Big Eyes Page #6

RUBEN:

Why are their eyes so big?! They're

like big stale jellybeans.

WALTER:

(SNIDE)

It's Expressionism. Surely you

recognize it.

RUBEN:

(LONG BEAT)

Well -- I'm just glad you two found

each other.

WALTER:

So... what do you say?

Ruben looks up, amazed. Walter seems oblivious.

20.

RUBEN:

I say, NO! It's not art.

WALTER:

(HORRIFIED)

Not -- "art"??

RUBEN:

It's like the back of a magazine!

"Draw the turtle! Send in a nickel

and win the Big Contest!"

WALTER:

How dare you! Lots of people would

like this.

RUBEN:

Well, nobody who's walking through the

door of this gallery!

(BEAT)

Now please! Clear out this clutter,

before the taste police arrives.

Walter's jaw drops.

CUT TO:

EXT. HUNGRY I MARQUEE - NIGHT

"The hungry i" -- the hottest nightclub around, so hip it's in

a basement. The marquee says "Cal Tjader, TONIGHT!"

INT. HUNGRY I SHOWROOM - NIGHT

A swinging mob of BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE -- suits, gowns and pearls.

CAL TJADER'S BAND is crazed: Vibes and bongo-driven JAZZ.

Margaret and Walter are squeezed at a table. She nurses a

Grasshopper. Walter's in a foul mood, CHUGGING cocktails.

WALTER:

We'll never break in...! Because

there's a CABAL. A secret society of

gallery owners and critics, who get

together for Sunday brunch in

Sausalito, deciding what's "cool."

(BROODING)

They're like Freemasons. No, worse!

McCarthy, in his hearings: "That

painter, I anoint. That painter, I

banish to nowheresville!"

Heartfelt, Margaret disagrees.

MARGARET:

I think people buy art because it

touches them --

21.

WALTER:

Heh! You're livin' in fairy land!

People don't get to discover a thing.

They buy art, because it's in the

right place at the right time.

O.s., MUSIC BUILDS. Muddled, Walter turns. He looks -- and

then -- his eyes light up. He is getting an idea...

ONSTAGE:

The band speeds to a climax, the percussion throbbing. Then,

a final, crazed note. BAM!!

The crowd APPLAUDS. The club's owner, ENRICO BANDUCCI, bounds

on stage. Banducci is a theatrical, natty Italian guy with a

skinny moustache and loud personality. He grabs a mike.

BANDUCCI:

Give it up for Cal Tjader! That set

was HUMMIN'! Al-aright, be sure to

stick around for the one a.m. show!

The house lights come up. Banducci hops down, greeting

guests, making his way out -- when Walter glides up.

WALTER:

Hey, Banducci. I love the music

tonight. It's a gas.

BANDUCCI:

Oh. Thanks, thanks.

WALTER:

I'm Walter Keane. I'm a painter.

(KNOWING)

I was looking at your walls, and

they're pretty plain.

BANDUCCI:

Really? Hm...! Maybe you're right.

What color were you thinking?

Huh? Walter holds his composure.

WALTER:

No -- I'm an artist. I used to be

based on the Left Bank. But now I've

relocated to the "States," and I'm

looking for an... exhibition venue.

Beat. Banducci frowns.

BANDUCCI:

I like my club the way it is. Your

stuff's so hot, go put it in a museum.

22.

WALTER:

Okay! I respect that. You're a

businessman, not a charity! So how

'bout if I, uh... rented your walls?

Hm?! Banducci raises an eyebrow.

CUT TO:

INT. BERKELEY APARTMENT - DAY

Walter's swanky pad is CHAOS, filled with cameras and lights.

A PHOTOGRAPHER runs around, tweaking equipment.

Walter's at an easel, putting the final touches on a PAINTING

of a French street scene. He gabs on the PHONE.

WALTER:

Yes! The paintings are available for

public viewing daily, from 7 to 3!

(an awkward beat)

Er, no. 3 a.m. It's in a nightclub.

(he hangs up)

Maggie! It's promotion time! We

gotta lay the racket!

Margaret puts on a smock, a bit dumbfounded. Walter spatters

some paint on his shirt. He grins, then holds up his brush

and SIGNS the painting: "W. KEANE"

Margaret forces a "cheese" smile, with her Waif. FLASH! The

camera pops.

CUT TO:

INT. HUNGRY I - NIGHT

CU - A cheery BROCHURE, "Meet the Keanes!" There's a staged

PHOTO:
Walter at his street scene, Margaret at her Waif.

Then -- a SHOE steps on it. We WIDEN... revealing the

brochure on the sticky floor of...

THE CLUB! It throbs with frolicking CUSTOMERS. We move

through the pack. To a rear concrete hallway... to a sign

with an arrow:
"TOILETS." We go down the hall... into...

A DINGY CORRIDOR

The Keane paintings hang here. The only human in sight is

Walter, forlorn at a card table. Brochures are stacked, and

he wears a sailor coat with a dandyish ascot.

The image is grim. Walter listens to the raucous mob. Until,

THUMP! -- a sloshed MAN stumbles in. Walter brightens and

stands.

23.

WALTER:

Ah, beautiful! An art lover! Yes

sir, how may I help you?

MAN:

(UNCLEAR)

I'm, uh, just looking for the john.

A terrible pause. Walter swallows his outrage... then points.

The guy smiles and tosses Walter a BUCK, as a tip. Walter is

stunned. The guy toddles away.

Beat. The Ladies Room opens, and TWO GOSSIPY WOMEN rush out,

oblivious to Walter. He glowers. ANOTHER MAN bounds in,

right up to one of Walter's paintings! He stops at it.

Walter gathers a moment of hope. Does he like it?

Then the man leans down and opens a CLOSET. He removes a tray

of bar glasses, kicks the door shut, and scoots away.

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