Crash Page #5

He, in turn, has trouble taking his eyes off her facial scars,

which she now makes no attempt to hide.

She pulls a cigarette packet from the pocket of her raincoat. She

searches the instrument panel for the lighter, her right hand

hovering above his knees like a nervous bird.

Having found the lighter, her strong hands tear away the

cellophane from the cigarette pack.

HELEN:

Do you want a cigarette? I started to

smoke at the hospital. It's rather stupid

of me.

JAMES:

(suddenly very agitated)

Look at all this traffic. I'm not sure I

can deal with it.

HELEN:

It's much worse now. You noticed that, did

you? The day I left the hospital I had the

extraordinary feeling that all these cars

were gathering for some special reason I

didn't understand. There seemed to be ten

times as much traffic.

JAMES:

Are we imagining it?

Helen waves her cigarette in a gesture that takes in the whole

interior of the car.

HELEN:

You've bought yourself exactly the same

car again. It's the same shape and color.

EXT. FIRST CRASH SITE - DAY

They are now passing the spot where their crash took place.

Intimidated by the aggressive traffic around him, James allows the

front wheel of the car to strike the curb of the central

reservation, throwing a tornado of dust and cigarette packs onto

the windshield.

INT. JAMES' S CAR - DAY

The car swerves from the fast lane and veers towards an airline

coach coming out of the exit ramp. Helen quickly shifts to the

left of her seat and, pressing her shoulder against James's,

closes her hand over James's hand on the wheel.

With Helen's help, James just manages to pull the car behind the

coach.

They watch the cars swerving past on both sides of them, horns

sounding.

HELEN:

Turn up here into the car park. It won't

be busy this time of day.

INT. AIRPORT CAR-PARK - DAY

The car winds its way slowly up the rampways leading to higher and

higher parking levels. James finds the rhythm soothing and begins

to calm down.

HELEN:

I've found that I enjoy burying myself in

heavy traffic. I like to look at it.

Yesterday I hired a taxi driver to drive

me around for an hour. "Anywhere", I said.

HELEN (CONT'D)

We sat in B massive traffic jam under an

off-ramp. I don't think we moved more than

fifty yards.

(pause)

I'm thinking of taking up a new job with

the Road Research Laboratory. They need a

medical officer. The salary is larger

something I've got to think about now.

There's a certain moral virtue in being

materialistic, I'm beginning to feel.

Well, it's a new approach for me, in any

case.

JAMES:

The Road Research Laboratory? Where they

simulate car crashes?

HELEN:

Yes.

JAMES:

Isn't that rather too close...?

HELEN:

That's the point. Besides, I know I can

give something now that I wasn't remotely

aware of before. It's not a matter of duty

so much as of commitment.

They have now reached the top level of the multi-storey car-park

and James pulls into a parking spot overlooking a major runway. An

immense jumbo jet is maneuvering into its take-off position.

James turns off the car and puts his arms around Helen. She offers

no resistance, as though the whole scenario were well understood

and agreed upon. James kisses her mouth, her eyelids, unzips her

dress.

With the jet engines screaming for accompaniment, Helen lifts her

right breast from her brassiere, pressing James's fingers against

the hot-nipple. Helen now straddles him and, awkwardly meshing

with the technology around them, they make love in the driver's

seat of the car.

INT. BALLARD APT. - NIGHT

James and Catherine make love in the same position as in the

preceding scene.

James keeps flashing back to himself and Helen in his car, the

images mixing confusingly with his present lovemaking to

Catherine.

INT. FILM STUDIO - JAMES'S OFFICE - DAY

James is back in the office, but it is obvious that he is only

nibbling at the work that has piled up in his absence. Renata

comes in.

RENATA:

I almost forgot to give you this. Probably

because I know you're going to like it.

Renata hands James a brown manila envelope with no markings on it.

JAMES:

What is it?

RENATA:

A complimentary ticket for a special

stunt-driving exhibition. Definitely not

part of the big auto show. There's a map

in the packet and a note requesting you be

discrete about the location.

JAMES:

Really? What kind of exhibition is it?

RENATA:

I suspect it involves reenactments of

famous car crashes. You know, Jayne

Mansfield, James Dean, Albert Camus...

JAMES:

You're kidding.

RENATA:

Serious. But you'll have to take your new

friend, the female crash-test dummy. She

dropped it off for you.

JAMES:

You're not jealous, are you? You have to

understand... Helen and I had this

strange, intense... experience together.

Renata kisses him hard, then bites his lip. James pulls away in

surprise.

RENATA:

We've had a few of those ourselves,

haven't we?

Renata turns on her heel and floats out the door, leaving James to

contemplate the contents of the envelope.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - NIGHT

We are looking at the words Little Bastard. written in black

script on silver metal, enamel on unpainted aluminum. We pull back

to reveal the entire metal object, which is a less Porsche 550

Spyder race car. It is small and curvaceous, and is being fussed

over by several men in overalls. The number .130" is painted on

its hood and doors.

The Porsche sits on a country road, two-lane blacktop, heavily

wooded, lit by a series of movie lights. On the hills lining the

road have been erected a few rough wooden stands.

A blonde man - Vaughan - stands near the rear of the Porsche, a

microphone-in his hand. His voice floats eerily out of the woods

from speakers mounted on a series of pine trees.

VAUGHAN:

(speakers)

"Don't worry, that guy's gotta see us!"

These were the confident last words of the

brilliant young Hollywood star James Dean

as he piloted his Porsche 550 Spyder race

car towards a date with death on a lonely

stretch of California two-lane blacktop,

Route 466. Don't worry, that guy's gotta

see us". The year, 1955; the day,

September 30th; the time: Now.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - GRANDSTAND - NIGHT

Helen and James sit in a half-empty stand, looking down at the

road from amid the trees. Helen has her arm around James's waist,

her face touching his shoulder.

JAMES:

It's strange - I thought all this would be

far more popular.

Helen is consulting a yellow programme sheet.

HELEN:

The real thing is available free of

charge. Besides, it's not quite legal.

They can't advertise.

VAUGHAN:

(speakers)

The first star of our show is Little

Bastard-, James Dean's racing Porsche. He

named it after himself, and had his racing

number, 130, painted on it.

JAMES:

Who is that? The announcer. Do I know him?

HELEN:

That's Vaughan. He talked to you at the

hospital.

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