Bean Page #3

BEAN:

Ah.... Ahm....

BEAN realises that he has done something wrong and quickly shoves the

cable into another circuit. The Van Gogh appears happily on the

screen. BEAN and PROGRAMMER both give out a sigh of relief. BEAN

smiles and leaves quickly. But a second later the computer screen

disintegrates and the Van Gogh slides down the screen like a water-

colour in the rain. The PROG difficult to breathe.

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CUT TO:

INT. NATIONAL GALLERY. BOARDROOM - DAY

LORD WALTON:

You have your voting slips, gentlemen. Please remember the Americans

are looking for something quite high powered. A doctorate

preferably...

There is a knock at the door. BEAN enters. LORD WALTON smiles. The

rest of the faces in the room are looking dangerously close to smug.

BEAN is very nervous indeed.

LORD WALTON:

(gravely)

Ah, Mr. Bean. Please take a seat for a moment. I have some news which

will not, I'm afraid...

The phone rings. LORD WALTON answers. BEAN sits next to VINCENT and

sniffs at him. VINCENT's breath hasn't improved.

LORD WALTON:

(into phone)

Yes? Put him on... Timothy. The computer ... Yes... When? How? All

of it? Absolutely all of it? Did you back it up? How long will it ...

? Another six months. Fair enough. Come up here will you, dear boy.

He slowly hangs up. Everyone has got the gist of what has just

occurred with the new computer- The energy drains from them all as they

contemplate another six months with BEAN still on the staff. LORD

WALTON coughs politely.

LORD WALTON:

As I was saying, gentlemen. The Grierson Gallery. South California.

Great opportunity. Thousands-of miles-away though it is. Doctorate or

( IMPISHLY ) no doctorate, perhaps

All get the message at the same moment and hurriedly scribble on their

voting slips. The slips get handed down the line to LORD WALTON. We

see that every single slip has 'BEAN' on it.

LORD WALTON:

Mr. Bean. Wonderful news. You are going to America.

MR. BEAN

(overwhelmed)

Ooooh, how lovely.

There is a knock at the door. The fat, bespectacled,

PROGRAMMER puts his head round it.

LORD WALTON:

(beaming)

Ah, Timothy. You're sacked.

CUT TO:

INT. NATIONAL GALLERY. CORRIDOR - DAY

BEAN rounds a corner and walks towards us, imitating a bowlegged

cowboy. The Theme from Bonanza plays. He whips out his pair of

imaginary six shooters, spins them on his fingers and returns them to-

their imaginary holsters, making gun sound effects. He's very happy.-

He passes the Security Guard - he draws his gun on him - zero reaction

the Guard just raises his eyebrows and yawns.

BEAN heads on through the gallery merrily - but suddenly, his good mood

is broken, when he notices 3 schoolgirls entering a new exhibition,

called The Ultra-Human Form. This worries him - and we soon see why -

BEAN heads in to the room where all the paintings are very graphic

nudes, and the 3 girls are having a good giggle.

BEAN quickly rushes over and with his hand covers the breasts of the

painting they're inspecting.

Two girls then move on to the next painting - which unfortunately also

has breasts. BEAN stretches and just manages to cover them with his

other hand.

Now the third girl heads on, so BEAN can drop the hand on the first

painting - but now has to try to cover the breasts on the third

painting, which is a real long stretch away. He can't quite make it,

so he takes off his shoes, which gives him the extra 3 inches. Again,

safe. Just.

Now, all three girls leave the paintings - but, to BEAN's chagrin, head

over to a classical nude sculpture in the middle of the room. It's

like the 3 Graces, 3 naked women back to back. BEAN thinks fast. He

quickly whips off his

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Belt and rushes over to the statue, where he succeeds in looping it

round to cover all six nipples.

Unfortunately the girls have already lost interest and head over to the

other side of the gallery. To BEAN's horror. Because at that moment

we reveal what is on the other side of the room. A epic painting in

the style of the others - with literally 40 graphically naked people.

BEAN sprints across the room, stands on a chair, and desperately tries

to cover a particularly lurid example of a gentleman's manhood.

At which moment the teacher of the party and 40 other schoolgirls

appear and scream in chorus. BEAN thinks that it is the painting that

has caused offence and is in outraged agreement with them. He turns.

Cut wide to reveal that they are screaming because he's beltless

trousers have fallen down.

CUT TO:

EXT. GRIERSON GALLERY. AMERICA - DAY.

8.30 am California time. A modern building with plenty of glass.

Large, modern sculptures are spotted around its grounds, including a

dramatic one of two huge old cars, head down in the ground, backs

protruding into the air.

THOMAS GRIERSON, owner of the gallery, wearing a slick expensive suit,

walks with DAVE LEARY and BERNIE, both in casual jackets and ties.

GRIERSON is a vain, slightly pedantic and pompous man - maybe short -

always just trying to show he's Boss. The three are strolling towards

the main entrance. Huge sign: 'THE GRIERSON GALLERY' with a silhouette

of Whistler's Mother taken from the painting, as an incorporated logo.

GRIERSON:

Lord Walton assures me this guy's one of the very top scholars in the

English art world. Has a couple of doctorates no less.

BERNIE:

Great news.

BERNIE is smooth and smiley. DAVID LEARY, Vice President, is a very

pleasant, but slightly worried man, knocking on 40. Too nice for his

own good. The three pass a lone MIME ARTIST wearing a cheap vac-form

PRESIDENT CLINTON face mask. David can't help being just a little nice

to him and finds himself left behind. He scampers to catch up.

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First, catching under the handle - then the couch, then

Four other chairs - and finally the deep freeze. No-one's going to get

in through that door.

BACK IN THE HALL BEAN pushes the string back inside the letter box and

slaps his hand in satisfaction. He locks the door's enormous padlock,

looks about carefully to make sure no one's around, and then hides the

key under a garden gnome on the floor, standing amongst a row of

pathetic pot plants.

MIX THROUGH TO:

INT. AIRPORT. RECEPTION DESK. NIGHT

The lady checking in BEAN looks puzzled as she holds his passport. So

he pulls the shockingly stupid face. 0h yes, she sees, that's the guy

in the picture. She hands him his ticket.

CHECK-IN LADY

Here we go, sir. You've been moved to l st. class. Apparently your

friends at the Gallery were so delighted that you're finally on your

way.

BEAN is very touched.

CUT TO:

INT. AIRPORT LOUNGE - NIGHT

BEAN enters the first class lounge. It's fairly empty, but BEAN still

squeezes himself between an old lady drinking a cup of tea, and a very

grand looking American military man in a business suit.

The Grand Man lights up a cigar. This doesn't please Mr "No Smoking

BEAN. First, he waves the smoke away, in small, then big, then huge

wafting motions. Then he tries, miming, to cut it up into segments and

move them aside. The man pays no attention at all.

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