Big Eyes Page #2

MARGARET:

Deirdre, look at you!

DEE-ANN

(CORRECTING)

"Dee-Ann."

MARGARET:

"Dee-Ann"?!

DEE-ANN

Yeah, I know. But I hit this scene...

and "Deirdre" just sounded like

something my mother would call me.

Margaret giggles.

DEE-ANN

So are you flipping for all this?!

Are you settled? How's Jane?

MARGARET:

Jane -- is swell. She's started in a

sweet little school.

(PAUSE)

Though... it's hard without her father.

I'm not sure we can do this...

The thought hangs, and Margaret gets emotional. Teary-eyed.

5.

DEE-ANN

Oh stop that. You're better off.

Between us, I never liked Frank.

MARGARET:

(SHOCKED)

You were a bridesmaid!

DEE-ANN

Exactly. That's why I couldn't speak

up. But if I ever see you wrong off

again, I will tell you.

(LONG BEAT)

Now come on. Let's have some fun.

WIDE - They start WALKING. Dee-Ann gestures.

DEE-ANN

Toss off your middle-class

preconceptions! This is Pompeii!

We're livin' in the volcano!! For

jazz, check up the hungry i. For

Italian, Vanessi's. For salvation,

try the Buddhist temple. For art, the

Six Gallery --

They pass a GALLERY. The displays are stark, Calder-like

MOBILES and found-object SCULPTURES. Margaret stares, unsure.

MARGARET:

Do they only show Modern?

DEE-ANN

Everyone only shows Modern!

(SHE POINTS)

In the basement, they've got espresso.

MARGARET:

What's espresso?

(WORRIED)

Is that like reefer?

Dee-Ann LAUGHS, astounded.

DEE-ANN

You've got a lot to learn!

EXT. ART SHOW - DAY

A Sunday ART SHOW. It's picturesque, amateur ARTISTS

displaying their paintings, jewelry, sculpture...

The modern stalls are crowded with trendy BOHEMIANS. Abstract

lines, speckles of color. We drift away... and find Margaret,

alone in her stall with Jane. Margaret sits patiently,

surrounded by Big Eye paintings and charcoal portraits. In

contrast with the neighbors, her work seems... quaint.

6.

A pink, chubby TOURIST FAMILY ambles over. Margaret brightens

hopefully.

TOURIST GUY:

Your stuff is cute. How much?

MARGARET:

Today's a special: Two dollars.

TOURIST GUY:

I'll give you one.

Beat -- then she nods, agreeing. She gestures.

The little BOY sits. Margaret clips a fresh sheet of paper,

sharpens her charcoal... and... goes motionless. Studying the

boy's face. He gazes back.

Then -- inspired, she begins sketching his EYES. Large and

exaggerated. Then she fills in the shape of his head. His

ears. His jaw.

In a rush, his likeness appears. The parents come over to

peek -- then gasp. Margaret is good. She sketches faster.

Focused. Until a LOUD, PLUMMY VOICE drifts in...

MAN'S VOICE

Monet? "Monet"?! Whew -- that's a

hell of a compliment. Though, if I

may respectfully disagree, I'm more in

the tradition of Pissarro.

Margaret looks up, distracted. She resumes her work.

MAN'S VOICE

C'mon, get closer. Closer! Look at

that sunlight coming through the

mottled leaves. That's a bold yellow!

Curious, Margaret casually peers over...

HER POV:

Holding court in another booth is WALTER KEANE, 40. Walter is

astonishing:
Hugely confident. Charming. Waggishly

handsome. And dressed like an "Artist" -- striped turtleneck,

with hands full of brushes.

Walter's stall is filled with oils of Paris street scenes. He

casually flirts with TWO YOUNG COEDS. They admire a painting.

WALTER:

You wanna touch it? Do it! I lay it

on thick -- you're not gonna break it!

(UNWAVERING)

I poured myself into that painting.

It's thirty-five dollars.

7.

Walter glances over -- and notices Margaret watching him.

Shy, she quickly turns away, back to her portrait.

Walter smiles rakishly. He's found a new interest.

WALTER:

Excuse me, Ladies.

WIDE:

Walter strides up to Margaret. She peers nervously... trying

to ignore him. She sketches faster. Shading...

Walter watches. Admiring... and discreetly smelling her hair.

Margaret pays no attention. Done, she blows into a can of Fix-

It. Poosh! A fine mist sprays, setting the portrait.

Without fanfare, she humbly turns the picture.

MARGARET:

All finished.

Her customers gape, impressed. She smiles. The guy counts

out four quarters, then happily leaves.

MARGARET AND WALTER

are left together. An unspoken frisson, until --

WALTER:

You're better than spare change. You

shouldn't sell yourself so cheap.

MARGARET:

I'm just glad they liked it.

WALTER:

Ahhh! You're past that point! Your

heart is in your work...

He leans in, too close. Margaret shivers. Breathing faster.

WALTER:

What's your name?

MARGARET:

M-Margaret...

Mmm. He grins, checking her out... her loose sexy blouse and

tight black capris. She flushes.

MARGARET:

Wouldn't you rather flirt with those

dolls over there?

8.

WALTER:

Mm, no.

(BEAT)

I like you, Margaret...

He zeroes in on the artworks' signature: "M. Ulbrich"

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