Big Eyes Page #13

WALTER:

Good afternoon! Delighted!

(he reaches the SEXY BLONDE

CLERK and pinches her ass)

How many sales today?

BLONDE CLERK:

"Sales?" None with this crowd.

Walter's smile drops, surprised.

BLONDE CLERK:

These people are looky-loos! They

can't afford the paintings. But we

gave away a heap of posters!

Huh? Walter peers, baffled. Suddenly -- a loud FRWWIPPPP!

Walter whirls, startled. Outside, two GIRLS tear a big poster

off the front window.

Walter's eyes widen. Slowly, he turns back. At the counter,

FOLKS and KIDS are grabbing free posters from a box.

Walter stares. Processing this. And then... being struck by

an idea of absolute genius...

INT. STORAGE ROOM - SECONDS LATER

Walter is on the telephone, peering through the doorway.

Hiding from the customers. Spying. WHISPERING.

WALTER (ON THE PHONE)

It's the craziest thing. I started

charging for the posters! First a

nickel... then a dime.

(struggling to whisper)

YES, Maggie! It's cuckoo! So it got

me thinkin':
Would you rather sell a

$500 painting, or a million cheaply-

reproduced posters?!

(he LAUGHS, exultant)

(MORE)

47.

WALTER (ON THE PHONE) (CONT'D)

See, folks don't care if it's a copy.

They just want art that touches them!

CUT TO:

ANIMATION:

WALTER'S VOICE

And then... we could sell it

anywhere!! EVERYWHERE!

60's-style MADISON AVENUE GRAPHICS: A still of a HARDWARE

STORE. Mops, light bulbs, then -- BING! -- framed KEANES.

A PHARMACY. Aspirin, candy bars -- BING! -- framed KEANES.

A GAS STATION. Tires, motor oil, and -- BING! -- KEANES.

INT. SUPERMARKET - DAY

An aisle of Sundries: Plastic toys, beach balls... Waifs. A

sign says "WE HAVE KEANE!"

Around the corner, Margaret shuffles along, listlessly buying

banalities:
Cereal. Soap. She turns the cart... and runs

into her wall of teary-eyed kids.

Margaret peers, muddled.

Then she turns away -- to a RACK OF PAPERBACKS. They offer

fast hope, inspiration. Margaret seems disconnected. She

runs her hand down the options... a book of Numerology... a

book on Judaism... an Edgar Cayce prophecies manual...

AT THE REGISTER - Margaret gazes up. The CASHIER is a sad

Beatnik Girl. In a haze, Margaret notices the whole market is

full of LONELY WOMEN:

One LADY is her doppelganger -- same age, blonde, gripping a

cart. Next aisle over, a MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN stares into space.

Nearby, a YOUNG MOM wrangles her children.

We shift to Margaret. Face gaunt. Eyes empty. Troubled...

INT. APARTMENT PAINTING ROOM - DAY

Curtains drawn, Margaret frantically SKETCHES. She's cabin

feverish. In her robe. Hair dirty. And -- up to something.

These sketches aren't squat children with round eyes. They're

different:
Figures with long lines.

Margaret frowns and rips the paper. She tries again! Another

angular figure -- straight fingers... no!

Again! A woman... reclining. Then an indication of a face:

A slash... and then -- two small almond shapes for eyes.

48.

Hmm. Margaret's face brightens. She likes it.

LATER:

Margaret rabidly paints. Spurting globs of color. The woman

is blonde, almond eyes cool, lips curled with mystery...

Margaret glances in a mirror. It's a self-portrait. It's

Margaret, aloof. Alone at a table.

Suddenly the door opens. Margaret GASPS, startled, and spins

the canvas away. Walter barges in, dressed like a million.

He HALTS -- making a sour face.

WALTER:

Whew! Something smells in here. You

should open a window.

Margaret blinks, a bit dazed.

MARGARET:

What time is it?

WALTER:

I dunno. 6:
30, 7? ...Didn't Janie

get dinner?

Margaret shrugs. Walter leans in.

WALTER:

When's the last time you washed your

hair?

MARGARET:

I've been... busy.

WALTER:

(he notices the turned

canvas; he's intrigued)

What do you got back there? Lemme

see.

MARGARET:

No --! It's just... something I'm

working on. It's not for the world.

Walter gives her a funny look.

WALTER:

"The world"? Baby, it's me!

(stepping forward, a bit

MALEVOLENT)

I'm your number one fan.

MARGARET:

No, please! Walter, it's -- personal.

49.

WALTER:

(GETTING CLOSER)

But we're husband and wife. We

shouldn't have secrets...

Margaret gulps, fretting. Finally, without options -- she

flips over the canvas of the lonely blonde.

And -- Walter is taken aback. His eyebrows raise, shocked.

Margaret bites her lip. Will he go ballistic?

ANGLE - WALTER

He leans right up to the painting.

His expression is inscrutable. Studying the technique. We

have no idea what his emotion is.

WALTER:

It's a completely different style.

MARGARET:

Yes it is.

WALTER:

(BEAT)

It looks like you.

MARGARET:

It's a self-portrait.

Beat.

WALTER:

How am I gonna explain that?

She shifts about.

MARGARET:

I thought... maybe... I could sign it

myself.

Hmm. Walter's eyes narrow.

WALTER:

That seems a bit confusing. "Keane"

means me.

MARGARET:

Yes, I know... but... when people ask

me if I paint, I don't know what to

answer! I just want the pride of

being able to say -- that's mine.

Walter's wheels are ratcheting.

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