Big Eyes Page #5

WALTER:

I knew you'd love it.

16.

MARGARET:

Oh, can't we stay here forever??

WALTER:

Well, I don't know about forever. But

maybe... I can arrange another week.

EXT. HOTEL GROUNDS - DAY

Thatched umbrellas, Polynesian fun. Margaret is set-up,

drawing PORTRAITS of the GUESTS. Walter regales them as they

wait. Joking, gregariously handing out Mai-Tais.

Margaret finishes a picture. She beams at Walter... then

signs the picture "KEANE."

Walter gapes, astonished at this gesture. Margaret lock eyes

with him. She smiles girlishly, radiating happiness.

CUT TO:

INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY

Old school Cantonese: Dragons and red lacquer. Margaret eats

lunch with Dee-Ann, showing off SNAPSHOTS from the trip.

MARGARET:

This is a waterfall... the air was so

fresh you could taste it. Here's an

ancient altar... that statue is Kane,

the god of creation. I said a prayer

to him. Oh! Here's Walter and Janie,

building a sandcastle --

Dee-Ann raises an eyebrow.

DEE-ANN

This is all happening mighty quick.

In the time you moved here, I've had

two dates. You're already married.

MARGARET:

(SHE GIGGLES)

I thought there was a void in my life.

Well... Walter's filled it.

DEE-ANN

Walter's filled a lot of things. He's

diddled every skirt on the art circuit.

MARGARET:

You're talking about my husband!

DEE-ANN

I know! That's why I brought it up.

Margaret frowns, insulted.

17.

MARGARET:

I'm not naive.

(beat; she laughs)

Well, I am naive. But I know the man

I'm marrying. Walter can act rash...

but he's a good provider. And he's

wonderful with Jane.

(CLEAR-EYED)

Look -- we're both looking for a fresh

start. I'm a divorcee with a child.

Walter is a blessing.

Dee-Ann bites her tongue. The WAITER brings over the check.

Sitting on it are TWO FORTUNE COOKIES.

Hm. Margaret stares, utterly serious. She reaches for one...

then impulsively grabs the other. She cracks the cookie. Dee-

Ann waits, curious. Margaret reads... then slowly smiles.

MARGARET:

"You are on the threshold of untold

success."

INT. ART GALLERY - DAY

A Modish, happening gallery. The white walls are hung with

ABSTRACT EXPRESSIONISM: Slashing angles of color, painted over

rags and glued bolts. On the floor is SCULPTURE made from

wood and wire.

In charge is RUBEN, a fussy man in a goatee. He's schmoozing

a FANCY LADY. They look at a spattered, distorted painting.

RUBEN:

What's brilliant about the composition

is its spontaneity. The image has no

visual center of attention.

FANCY LADY:

It's quite gestural.

RUBEN:

Oh definitely! Strongly influenced by

the tachistes.

FANCY LADY:

I heard Tab Hunter was in here,

looking at one.

RUBEN:

Well... I'm not allowed to say...

He NODS HIS HEAD up-and-down: Yes, you're right.

OUTSIDE:

A car backfires. Ruben turns -- and winces.

18.

Through the windows is Walter, climbing out of his massive

white Cadillac. He's all done up, in beret and scarf. He

opens the giant trunk and removes a pile of paintings.

Ruben cringes knowingly. He whispers:

RUBEN:

Oh Christ, don't come in here. Please

don't come in here...

The door SLAMS. Walter loudly barges in.

WALTER:

Ruben, good day! Do you got a minute?

RUBEN:

Walter. In polite society, the word

is "appointment."

FANCY LADY:

(glancing back and forth)

Uh, I could come back later...

She anxiously hurries for the door. Ruben fumes.

Walter ignores it all and starts laying out his wares. First,

the Parisian street scenes, one after another...

WALTER:

You're gonna love my stuff today.

RUBEN:

Haven't I seen that one before?

WALTER:

Nah! That was painted in the Fifth

Arrondissement. This is the Sixth

Arrondissement!

RUBEN:

(SKEPTICAL)

I don't understand. You lived in

Paris for a week. How can you still

be cranking out paintings?

Walter laughs. He points to his head.

WALTER:

It's all up here.

(beat; a sentimental

FLOURISH)

And here.

He points to his heart. Ruben frowns and points to the wall.

19.

RUBEN:

Well, it's not going up here.

(CRUEL)

Walter, you know we don't go for that

representational jazz! You're too

literal.

WALTER:

(HURT)

Hey, Art isn't fashion!

RUBEN:

Yes it IS!

(CUTTING)

People want Kandinsky, or Rothko!

They don't want goopy street scenes.

CLOSEUP - WALTER

Ouch! This stings terribly.

Walter glares at the man, then softly slides aside his works.

Quietly, he pulls out Margaret's Big Eye paintings.

WALTER:

Would they want... this?

RUBEN:

(HE SHUDDERS)

Good God! You've entered a new

period.

WALTER:

No... they're my wife's.

Fascinated, Ruben glances through Margaret's oils. Canvas

after canvas of sad kiddies against gray, bleak backgrounds.

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