Big Eyes Page #10

INT. APARTMENT - DAY

Margaret paints. Walter beams.

35.

WALTER:

Joan said "Marvelous"! MARVELOUS!

That's worth more than 1000 critics!

(he CLAPS his hands)

Hey, maybe she'll come to our opening.

MARGARET:

But... isn't it strange? Artists get

shown. They don't build their own

galleries.

WALTER:

Says who?! Like John Q. Public cares?

He's FED UP with abstract neoformalism!

She responds -- but he sexily puts his finger to her mouth.

WALTER:

He digs real art. Your art! It's

beautiful. You're beautiful...

Walter starts rubbing against her, dancing sensually. She

laughs, embarrassed, her wet paint brushes smearing his chest.

She relents and relaxes. They dance around...

CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREETS - EARLY MORNING

In the shadows, POSTERS of "The Waif" get glued up. Under her

woeful face, it says "KEANE GALLERY 494 Broadway." We WIDEN,

as Walter, Margaret and Jane hastily slap up the posters.

They carry glue buckets and a ladder.

WALTER:

Ruben's gonna choke when he sees this!

Little Jane tiredly glues another poster. She yawns.

JANE:

I remember when Momma painted that.

Huh?

Suddenly, Margaret freezes. She hadn't anticipated this.

Margaret looks to Walter. He stares back, waiting.

MARGARET:

Are you -- sure? That was a long time

ago.

JANE:

Sure I'm sure! It was in our old

apartment, and you had me sit on a

stool in the kitchen --

36.

WALTER:

(CUTTING IN)

No, dear, I'm afraid you're confused.

I painted that one --

JANE:

No, Mother did! Look! I'm wearing my

blue dress.

MARGARET:

L-lots of girls have that dress...

Margaret trails off, sickened. Not knowing how to lie.

Walter takes charge. He kneels, then smiles gently at Jane.

WALTER:

You have a good eye, sweetie. I

painted it, but I was trying to mimic

your mother's style. You know, the

style she USED to paint in.

CLOSEUP - JANE

A loooooong pause. She examines the print. Then... she nods.

JANE:

Well you did a really good job.

CUT TO:

EXT. SAN FRANCISCO NORTH BEACH - DAY

CU on the Waif. We widen, revealing the ENTIRE WORLD has been

hijacked, blanketed by THE POSTERS. People gape -- astonished

and captivated.

Disconnected from it all, strolling alone, is Margaret. She

is burdened by her own thoughts. Regretful...

Across the street, she sees a GOTHIC CHURCH. She stares up,

awed by the beauty. It's Catholic imagery in all its glory:

Saints... Jesus... Mary...

Suddenly -- the bells RING. Hm. Margaret takes a step...

INT. CHURCH CONFESSION BOOTH - DAY

Margaret tentatively enters and kneels. Beat -- then the

grille OPENS. She reacts, discomposed.

MARGARET:

Hello. I've -- never really done this

before. I'm not sure how you...

(WORRIED)

I was raised Methodist. If it's a

problem, I can go --

37.

She starts to stand. The Priest blurts out.

PRIEST'S VOICE

No, no! Please. We don't chase

people away.

(BEAT)

What is troubling you?

Margaret takes a breath.

THEN --

MARGARET:

I lied to my child.

Pause.

PRIEST'S VOICE

Why would you do that?

MARGARET:

My husband... he pressured me into

doing it.

(PAUSE)

I've never lied to her before. I'm

not that kind of person.

Beat.

PRIEST'S VOICE

Is your husband that kind of person?

MARGARET:

Ummm, no. I don't think of him that

way. I mean, he likes to tell

stories... maybe he exaggerates a

little... but he's a good man.

(SHE THINKS)

He takes care of us. He wants to make

enough money to buy our family a

house...

PRIEST'S VOICE

But what of the child? Will this lie

bring harm to her?

MARGARET:

"Harm"?? Oh! Not at all.

(BEAT)

I'm just looking for answers...

The Priest considers this.

PRIEST'S VOICE

Well, the modern world is a

complicated place.

(MORE)

38.

PRIEST'S VOICE (CONT'D)

Occasionally, children need to be

sheltered from certain truths.

MARGARET:

N-no. That's not what --

PRIEST'S VOICE

It sounds like your husband is trying

to make the best of an imperfect

situation.

(BEAT)

You were raised Christian, so you know

what we are taught: The man is head of

the household.

(BEAT)

Perhaps you should trust his judgment.

CUT TO:

INT. KEANE GALLERY - NIGHT

Opening night! The gallery is packed with the IN CROWD: Rich

and drinking. The space is cool -- the walls bright white,

the art hanging under spotlights. JAZZ plays on the stereo.

At one painting, a HIPSTER COUPLE stares at the image of a

sorrowful girl holding an armful of poodle puppies.

HIPSTER LADY:

I think it's creepy, maudlin and

amateurish.

HIPSTER MAN:

Exactly. I love it.

We move in tight on the painting. Underneath is a tag:

"BEDTIME, by WALTER KEANE. Oil on canvas."

We drift along, to another painting: "CALICO CAT, by WALTER

KEANE." Then, another: "IN THE GARDEN, by WALTER KEANE."

Every painting is now by Walter Keane.

We move along... finding the Tipsy Man chatting up Dick.

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