Big Eyes Page #19

70.

MARGARET:

I don't want you sleeping in this room

any longer. I -- I can't keep living

these lies.

(SHARP)

There's three extra bedrooms. Go pick

one.

He nods.

INT. HOUSE - LATER

Margaret sits, unmoving, trapped in the big house. Outside, a

JAPANESE GARDENER trims the hedges.

Margaret stares at the walls, a smothering Walter Hall of

Fame:
Framed magazine articles on Walter, smugly posed with

the Waifs.

She swallows, then gently opens a dresser drawer. Inside is

an ORIGINAL WAIF from long ago. A small oil of Jane, when she

was a toddler.

Margaret stares... and then her face slowly crumbles.

INT. PAINTING ROOM - DAY

Margaret huddles with a SKETCHPAD. Rembrandt is at her feet.

She's drawing. She looks up, as Walter anxiously enters.

He's holding a drink. He clears his throat.

WALTER:

What are you working on?

MARGARET:

A new MDH. Something for me. It's

about a woman trapped in an uncaring

world. I call it, "Escape."

Walter bites his lip, afraid to talk.

WALTER:

I figured out a solution to our

problems.

MARGARET:

What?

WALTER:

Teach me.

(BEAT)

Show me your tricks. Then you can

pass off the Waifs, and we won't be

lying anymore.

She looks up in disbelief.

71.

MARGARET:

And then -- YOU'LL paint them?

WALTER:

Sure! Why not?

MARGARET:

(OFFENDED)

Walter, this isn't paint-by-numbers!

You think it's easy?! It took me

years to learn --

WALTER:

Y-you're right!

(SHEEPISH)

But you know me! I'm a quick study.

And I've got the basics...

He trails off, unsure where this is going.

Trying to rouse her, Walter rushes to an easel and throws up a

blank canvas. She eyeballs him.

MARGARET:

If you knew the basics, you wouldn't

be at the easel. You have to sketch

it first!

Walter tightens, feeling stupid. He lets go of the canvas.

Margaret stares, deciding. Then, she tosses him a PAD.

Walter catches it. Slowly, he crosses over...

ANGLE - MARGARET AND WALTER

They peer at each other, like a Mexican standoff. Then, he

nervously picks up a pencil.

WALTER:

So...? What's first?

MARGARET:

I dunno. You tell me. You're the

creator.

He frowns.

WALTER:

It's a -- Keane.

MARGARET:

Oh, a Keane! How witty.

(SARCASTIC)

You know, when we met all those years

ago, I never would've imagined in my

wildest dreams that one day --

72.

WALTER:

YEAH YEAH! Point taken. I'm standing

here naked and humiliated in front of

you. Look... can we just do a crying

child?

She gazes at him. Fingering her pencil...

Trying to jump-start things, he starts to draw a circle --

MARGARET:

How old is the subject?

WALTER:

Huh? C'mon, it's a head --

MARGARET:

It matters! A young child's head is

round. An older child's head is oval!

He feels pressured. Hand shaking, he draws a crooked circle.

WALTER:

The child is this old!

(ANGRY)

You're trying to make this difficult --

MARGARET:

NO I'M NOT! Every line is a decision!

(IMPASSIONED)

It's easy to talk about art, but it's

not easy to MAKE art!!

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. PAINTING ROOM - MONTAGE:

Margaret easily outlines a head, then two circles for eyes.

Walter tries copying, but his eyes are misshapen.

Again, Walter copies, but he's wobbly. Angry, he scratches it

out.

Margaret tries to help, guiding his hand. Insulted, he pushes

her off. He CRUMPLES the page.

NEW TACTIC:
Walter grabs her sketch. He puts it on a LIGHT-

TABLE. Despairing, he starts to trace it..

LATER:

Walter finally paints. We can't see the canvas, but he's very

meticulous. His expression quite earnest. He adds a final

flourish... and then... a flicker of pride crosses his face.

He smiles.

73.

We slowly MOVE AROUND... to REVEAL HIS PAINTING. And...

it's... absolutely dreadful. Kindergarten quality.

Walter stares.

Then, he furtively glances at Margaret's work. Comparing...

The realization slowly sinks in. He has no ability.

A sadness swells into fury... and suddenly Walter GRABS HIS

CANVAS and SMASHES IT AGAINST THE EASEL. CRASH!! The canvas

SHREDS. The frame blasts into pieces!

Walter spins. He glares at one of Margaret's finished

Waifs... then explodes, even more enraged. HE PICKS UP

MARGARET'S PAINTING AND STARTS TO SWING IT AT THE WALL --

MARGARET (O.S.)

Walter!!

Huh? He lurches, startled.

ACROSS THE ROOM:

Margaret stares him down.

Sweaty, chest heaving, Walter staggers towards her. His face

scowls, untamed. He clenches his fist, like he might attack

MARGARET --

Then -- he SCREAMS and smashes her CANVAS. BAM!!! The

painting RIPS apart. Walter KICKS his foot through the

remains, then spins and charges from the room.

CUT TO:

INT. KEANE GALLERY - DAY

TOURIST FAMILIES mill about. Suddenly the door SLAMS open.

Walter bolts in, wild-eyed. A bit deranged.

The families gawk -- glancing from Walter to his photograph

all over:
"WALTER KEANE! THE WORLD'S TOP-SELLING ARTIST!"

Walter ignores them. He rushes a buxom REDHEADED CLERK.

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