Big Eyes Page #20

WALTER:

How's SALES?

REDHEAD CLERK:

Oh, you know. Mondays --

Walter MUTTERS strangely. He snatches some paper and starts

scribbling. Then he runs into the

74.

STORAGE ROOM:

Walter agitatedly paces, circling the stacks of PRINTS.

WALTER:

How many posters are back here?

REDHEAD CLERK:

Exactly? I dunno, 3,000 or --

WALTER:

Does the printer owe us more? Do we

owe him??

REDHEAD CLERK:

Uh, let me --

WALTER:

What about the OILS?! Are there more

at the warehouse?

REDHEAD CLERK:

Mr. Keane, I'd have to make a --

WALTER:

For the LOVE OF MUD! What am I PAYING

you for?

The girl freezes, rattled. Walter spins, flipping out.

WALTER:

Hypothetical question: If you were a

man, would you marry Kim Novak or my

wife?

What?

WALTER:

Okay! Different question! If I got

crippled and had to stop painting, how

long before the gallery ran out of

inventory and went belly up??

REDHEAD CLERK:

(RATTLED)

Do you want a glass of water, Mr.

Keane?

Walter sighs. His thoughts drift away...

WALTER:

What's it all mean? Why are we put on

this earth? A 100 years from now,

will people even know we existed...?

75.

REDHEAD CLERK:

(UNCOMFORTABLE)

I -- I don't understand. You'll

always be famous. You were on the

Jack Paar Show...

(she glances away)

Er, excuse me, sir.

The girl hurries away, to ring up some customers.

Walter silently watches. At the register, the Tourists buy a

print. A "Madonna and Child," MDH-style.

BAMMM! Walter's eyes bulge, like he's been stung.

WALTER:

It's not even mine! It's one of hers.

Aching, he staggers off. Sweating, woozy, he sits at a table.

Distracted, he glances down at a newspaper...

INSERT - NEWSPAPER

There's an article on the 1964 NEW YORK WORLD'S FAIR. A

headline says "CONSTRUCTION RACES TOWARD APRIL OPENING"

TIGHT - WALTER

His eyes narrow, piqued. World's Fair??? He leans in...

CUT TO:

INT. BISTRO - NIGHT

A return to the charming bistro Margaret and Walter went to

all those years ago, on their first date. The Maitre'd BEAMS.

MAITRE'D

Ah! Monsieur and Madame Keane!

Delighted! Always such an honor!

ANGLE on the Keanes. They are sullen. At wit's end.

AT THE TABLE - LATER

They stiffly sit at their old table. He snarls, eyes black.

WALTER:

This doesn't change anything.

MARGARET:

(trying to hold her ground)

I know the truth.

76.

WALTER:

Who cares?! This is all your fault!

Maybe it's time to shake things up.

Start puttin' my name on the MDH's.

Margaret is astonished. A fury crosses her face.

MARGARET:

NO! Absolutely NOT!! I still hate

myself for giving you the Waifs!

WALTER:

Quiet! Lower your voice --

MARGARET:

Oh, I'll talk as LOUD AS I WANT --

WALTER:

NO YOU WON'T! Or --

(FLAILING)

I'll have you whacked!

She jerks, flabbergasted.

MARGARET:

What??!

WALTER:

If you tell ANYONE, if you squeal,

I'll take you out! I -- I know

people. Remember Banducci's cousin?

The liquor wholesaler?

Pause. Margaret breaks into tears.

MARGARET:

You're threatening me...?! Fine, kill

me! My God, I've kept our secret for

years! I've never once --

(CRYING)

Do you know what it's been like for

me? I don't have any friends. I've

lied to my own child...

Margaret shudders, distraught. Mascara runs down her cheeks.

Walter squirms, uneasy with this.

WALTER:

Christ, wipe your face! You look a

mess.

(BEAT)

It's life imitating art! A crying

Keane!

He hands her his handkerchief. She dabs at her eyes.

A looming quiet.

77.

MARGARET:

What do you want, Walter? Everything

with you is calculated. We're back

where we had our first date...

Walter's eyes widen.

We MOVE IN TIGHT on them. He drops his voice. Dead serious.

WALTER:

Look, I don't deny I need you. You're

the one with the gift.

(BEAT; HUSHED)

Right now there's a shot... God, I'm

shaking I'm so excited. The New York

World's Fair. 70 million visitors.

Opening day, I unveil my MASTERPIECE!

She is flummoxed.

MARGARET:

What masterpiece?

WALTER:

Exactly! What have I been missing all

this time?! Da Vinci has his Mona

Lisa... Renoir has his Boatmen's

Lunch... but where's my defining

statement?

MARGARET:

You sound insane. Artists don't

announce a masterpiece --

WALTER:

Why not?! Didn't Michelangelo know he

was hittin' a homer, when he was on

his back painting the Sistine Chapel?

MARGARET:

He worked on that for FOUR YEARS!

WALTER:

Posterity, baby...!!

She empties her drink.

WALTER:

And here's the best part. It's for

Unicef! Unicef is sponsoring the Hall

of Education. Aw, we can finally give

back to the children of the world!!

Margaret stares, wavering...

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