[first lines]
Narrator: This is the sad tale of the township of Dogville. Dogville was in the Rocky Mountains in the US of A, up here where the road came to its definitive end, near the entrance to the old abandoned silver mine. The residents of Dogville were good honest folks, and they liked their township. And while a sentimental soul from the East Coast had once dubbed their main street Elm Street, though no elm had ever cast its shadow in Dogville, they saw no reason to change anything. Most of the buildings were pretty wretched, more like shacks, frankly. The house in which Tom lived was the best, though, and in good times, might almost have passed for presentable. That afternoon, the radio was playing softly, for in his dotage, Thomas Edison senior had developed a weakness for music of the lighter kind.