Ignatz fashions himself a boomerang brick and shows it to Officer Pup. Ever mindful of Krazy’s welfare, Pup “get’s rid of it” by hurling it off a magic mesa. From that point, or even before, we know what will happen, and here it is in the image above.
Somehow, without explanation or comprehensible mechanism, the scene has shifted. This primal drama of love, longing, and anxiety is being played out…on a stage! See the boards, the curtains drawn aside, the lamp? And Ignatz, like the character in Bunuel’s Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie who suddenly realizes that the dinner party he is attending is in front of an audience, catches the situation and tries to apprise Krazy of it. “Pssst…let’s go!” Pup will suffer the dramatic consequences of the prologue, and they don’t want to be around for it.
As they make their escape, the theater seems to have disappeared, or is it always there? May I paraphrase Marlowe’s Mephistopholes in his response to Faust, who asks him, “Tell me, where is this place that men call hell?”
The Stage hath no limits, nor is circumscrib’d one self place; for where we are is our stage, and where this stage is, there must we ever be.