Five Easy Pieces Page #11

TITA:

I don't think I'd notice. I'm so

used to Carl.

BOBBY:

(wanting to go on about

it)

Yeah, well, he's...

She interrupts him, looking toward Spicer.

TITA:

Bobby? Do you think Spicer is

attractive?

He looks over at Spicer, polishing the frame of the

wheelchair.

BOBBY:

I think he's got a terrific

personality.

TITA:

You know, he was formerly a sailor.

Bobby gestures his paddle at Carl, on his way back

with the ball.

BOBBY:

Look, can't you see that, what I'm

talking about?

TITA:

Sailors are sadistic, I feel.

Carl comes up to the table, asserting:

CARL:

See? There's nothing wrong with the

way I walk. Now where are we?

BOBBY:

At game, Carl.

Carl serves and they volley briefly. Then BobbY

angles the ball sharply and puts it away.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

That's three games to none, Carl.

CARL:

All right, let's have a rematch.

BOBBY:

I thought you had to go to the

mainland today. Aren't you going to

miss the ferry?

Carl takes a quick glance at his watch, then drops

his paddle onto the table.

CARL:

Too bad. Just when I was hitting my

stride.

He starts away, then turns back.

CARL (CONT'D)

Say goodbye to Catherine for me,

will you?

As he moves off in the direction of the cars, Tita

comes up beside Bobby.

TITA:

Can I play now?

Carl calls over to them from his car:

CARL:

Tell her I'll be back sometime

tomorrow!

Bobby turns to Tita.

BOBBY:

Where is she, anyway?

TITA:

(ignoring the question)

My turn.

He hands her the paddle...

BOBBY:

Why don't you and Spicer play?

... and moves off toward the house.

INT. DUPEA HOME - UPSTAIRS HALL - DAY

Bobby knocks on Catherine's door and, hearing no

response, opens it and steps inside.

INT. CATHERINE'S ROOM - DAY

He wanders about, discreetly touching nothing, but

taking in some essence of Catherine from her

belongings and from the scent of her that lingers

in the room.

His journey brings him into proximity with the

windows and he pauses to look out at:

TITA AND SPICER BELOW

playing table tennis.

He starts to move from the windows, when he sees:

CATHERINE'S CAR

pulling into view and parking near the garage. She

gets out, and, carrying a shopping bag and a

wrapped bouquet of flowers, pauses on her way to

the house to have some exchange with Tita.

INT. DUPEA HOME - STAIRCASE - DAY

ON BOBBY:

quickly descending the staircase, and FOLLOWING

with him as he moves to the music room and goes

inside, leaving the door open.

INT. MUSIC ROOM - DAY

He crosses to one of the grands, seats himself and

rubs his hands together to warm them. Then,

scanning his mental repertoire, he places his hands

on the keyboard and begins to play a Chopin etude.

Presently, Catherine appears in the doorway. She

stands listening for a moment, then places the

shopping bag and flowers on a settee near the

doorway and crosses to a chair near the pianos and

sits down.

Bobby glances at her, then returns his eyes to the

keyboard.

ON CATHERINE:

her features intensely concentrated, as she listens

to his playing.

ON BOBBY:

apparently deep into the music. On the wall behind

him are the series of photographs seen in the

opening and the present ANGLE FAVORS an 8-year-old

Bobby in his dress suit, playing a recital.

THE CAMERA MOVES down to his hands...

... then to Catherine, profoundly moved.

ANGLE INCLUDING BOTH

as Bobby plays the concluding chords of the etude.

He lets his hands linger on the keys until the last

overtones fade, then he removes them to his lap.

After a brief silence:

CATHERINE:

That was beautiful, Robert. I'm

surprised...

BOBBY:

Thank you.

CATHERINE:

I was really very moved by the way

you...

Unable to keep up the "serious" musician pose, a

brief, derisive laugh issues from him.

CATHERINE (CONT'D)

Is that funny?

BOBBY:

It wasn't supposed to be, it just

struck me that way.

CATHERINE:

Why?

BOBBY:

Nothing. It's just that... I picked

the easiest piece I could remember.

I think I first played it when I

was 8 years old and I played it

better then.

CATHERINE:

It doesn't matter. It was the

feeling I was affected by.

BOBBY:

I didn't have any.

CATHERINE:

You had no inner feeling?

BOBBY:

None.

CATHERINE:

Then I must have been supplying it.

She gets up and crosses toward the settee.

BOBBY:

Wait...

CATHERINE:

Well, at least you're accomplished

at something...

BOBBY:

What?

CATHERINE:

At being a fake.

And as she picks up the flowers and the shopping

bag:

BOBBY:

Catherine...

CATHERINE:

No, you're very good at it. I'm

really impressed.

She goes out the door.

Bobby looks down at the keyboard. He closes the

cover and softly utters:

BOBBY:

Sh*t.

INT. CATHERINE'S BEDROOM - DAY

She stands in front of a dresser mirror, pinning up

her hair, preparatory to taking a bath. Her

attention is drawn to...

... Bobby entering, and as he crosses to her, she

quickly turns back to the mirror.

BOBBY:

You think I'm a fake.

CATHERINE:

I think it's what you think.

BOBBY:

No, it isn't what I think.

CATHERINE:

Look... You made a very calculated

move, and then made me feel

embarrassed for responding to you.

That wasn't necessary.

She moves away from him and he follows her.

BOBBY:

Yes, it was. You've made it clear

that if I can cut a little piano, I

might get a little response.

CATHERINE:

(stops and turns to him)

I don't think that's accurate...

BOBBY:

Up to now, what I've been getting

from you are meaningful looks over

the dinner table and a lot of vague

suggestions about the day after

tomorrow...

CATHERINE:

I'm not conscious of having given

you any meaningful looks. And as

for the day after tomorrow, this is

the day after tomorrow, and I am,

unfortunately, seeing you... Now if

you'll excuse me, I'd like to take

a bath.

She moves back to the dresser and as she begins

searching through an array of bath oils on top of

it, Bobby steps in beside her.

BOBBY:

It's convenient to fake looking for

something right now, isn't it?

CATHERINE:

I'm not faking anything. I'm

looking for some bath oil...

BOBBY:

Some bath oil?

He lifts up one of the bottles.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

What about this one?

(picking up another)

Or this one?

(and another)

How about some jasmine?

(and another)

What about some musk?

CATHFRINE:

What are you doing!

BOBBY:

(knocking the bottles

over)

What are you doing, screwing around

with this crap?!

A little intimidated by his aggressivity:

CATHERINE:

I don't find your language that

charming.

BOBBY:

It's direct, anyway, which seems to

be difficult for you.

CATHERINE:

I'd like you to leave now. Is that

direct enough?

He makes no move to go.

CATHERINE (CONT'D)

You're not a serious person, by

your own admission. And that may be

interesting, but it doesn't

interest me...

Needing the safety of distance, she moves over to

the windows next to the bed. Again, he follows

after her.

BOBBY:

Serious, that's what's important to

you?

CATHERINE:

Yes, that's what's important to

me...

He takes her by the shoulders...

BOBBY:

Okay, let's be serious...

... and forces her onto the bed.

CATHERINE:

No, don't do that...

BOBBY:

Shut up...

He hesitates for a moment, full of things he wants

to say and cannot. Catherine looks up at him,

uttering a quiet challenge:

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