Harold and Maude Page #6

We see out the window that Harold has come back. He carries

a large can marked Kerosene. Candy sees him but returns

her attention to answering Mrs. Chasen.

CANDY:

Heavens no. I don't have to

worry about dates. You see,

the other girls in my sorority,

well, we decided that somebody

should try it, so we drew

straws and I lost.

(little giggle)

But I am looking forward to

meeting Harold.

She looks beyond Mrs. Chasen, out the window. She is a

little nonplussed. Harold is pouring the kerosene all over

himself.

MRS. CHASEN

I think I should mention, Candy,

that Harold does have his eccentric

moments.

CANDY:

(never let it be

said that she

isn't a good sport)

Oh, yes? Well, that's all right.

I've got a brother who's a real

cut-up, too. I'll never forget the

time we had this old TV set with

no parts in it. Well, Tommy stuck

his head behind it and started

giving a newscast before the whole

family. We were all hysterical.

And here's little Tommy pretending

to be Walter Cronkite.

She looks back at Harold out the window. He is ablaze.

Her mouth falls open.

MRS. CHASEN

Yes. I'm sure it must have been

very funny.

Candy jumps up, pointing out the window behind Mrs. Chasen.

CANDY:

Har -- Haro -- Haroldddd!!!

Mrs. Chasen rises, slightly disturbed but used to odd

behavior.

MRS. CHASEN

Yes, dear. Here is Harold now.

Harold enters from the side door.

MRS. CHASEN

(continuing)

Candy, this is Harold.

Candy is momentarily stunned. Harold nods his greetings.

MRS. CHASEN

Candy was just telling a funny

story about Walter Cronkite.

Candy begins hysterical babbling and collapses.

62INT. MAUDE'S APARTMENT - DAY

The front door opens slowly and Harold enters.

HAROLD:

Maude. Maude. Anybody home?

He gets no answer and steps into the room. He looks over

the fireplace, where a furled umbrella is hung up like a

rifle. Nearby he sees a glass cabinet full of sea shells

and glass work. He walks over to a large table and is

puzzled by the odd-shaped, machine-like boxes on top. He

looks over at the wood sculpture, a highly polished work

with very smooth curves and holes. Instinctively he puts

out his hand to touch it, but decides he shouldn't. He

walks over to the piano and examines the silver frames

standing on it. They have no photographs in them and this

interests him. He goes to the window. Over his shoulder

we see MADAME AROUET hoeing in her vegetable patch.

63EXT. THE BACK YARD - DAY

A MEDIUM SHOT of Madame Arouet. She is dressed in the

black peasant's dress of Southern France. She is thin and

wrinkled and wears a large straw sun hat. She is con-

tinually working. Harold comes up to her.

HAROLD:

Excuse me, have you seen Maude?

Madame Arouet looks up. She doesn't comprehend.

HAROLD:

Maude. Do you know where she is?

Still no understanding.

HAROLD:

Maude?

MADAME AROUET:

Ah! Maude.

She points to the building next door.

HAROLD:

(nodding)

Oh, thank you. Thank you very

much. Merci.

He goes off toward the building. Madame Arouet continues

hoeing.

64CLOSEUP - MADAME AROUET

She looks up from her work and watches Harold. There is a

strange sadness in her old weathered face - time lost,

pleasures past over, the resignation to a lifetime of work.

She turns back to her garden.

65INT. GLAUCUS'S STUDIO - DAY

Harold comes through the door, sees where he is at, and

becomes embarrassed.

HAROLD:

Oh. Excuse me.

66HAROLD'S POV - AN ARTIST'S STUDIO

The first thing we notice is the large block of ice in the

center of the room - seven to eight feet tall - and

through it, as if looking through the glass on a shower

door, we can see a naked female body posing as Venus. The

sculptor, GLAUCUS, a frail, little, white-haired old man,

dressed in winter clothing, turns from the ice with a

chisel and hammer in his gloved hand.

GLAUCUS:

What do you want?

HAROLD:

I'm sorry. I was looking for

Maude.

The nude figure behind the ice moves and we see her head

over the top. It is Maude.

MAUDE:

Harold?

HAROLD:

Maude???!

67INT. MAUDE'S APARTMENT - DAY

Harold sits in a chair, brooding. Maude is in her kitchen

alcove.

MAUDE:

How about some ginger pie?

HAROLD:

Eh, fine.

MAUDE:

I'll heat some up. My, it's nice

to see you again, Harold. How's

your hearse?

HAROLD:

Oh, it's fine. Fine.

MAUDE:

She seemed yare to me.

Maude lays out the table. Harold gets up. He has some-

thing on his mind.

HAROLD:

(nonchalantly)

Do you often model for Glaucus?

MAUDE:

Heavens no! I don't have the time.

But I like to keep in practice

and poor Glaucus occasionally needs

his memory refreshed as to the

contours of the female form.

(she stops)

Do you disapprove?

HAROLD:

Me! No. Of course not.

MAUDE:

(she wants

the truth)

Really. Do you think it's wrong?

HAROLD:

(thinks, decides,

and reports his

conclusion)

No.

(he smiles)

MAUDE:

Oh, I'm so happy you said that

because I wanted to show you my

paintings. This is the "Rape of

Rome" and, of course, there in

the corner is quite a graphic

depiction of Leda and the Swan.

Harold looks at the corner of the painting and then back at

Maude.

MAUDE:

(coquettishly)

A self-portrait.

(she walks on)

But over here is my favorite. It's

titled "Rainbow with Egg Underneath

and an Elephant." Do you like it?

HAROLD:

Yes. Very much.

MAUDE:

It was my last. I then became

infatuated with these -- my

"Odorifics."

She points to the odd-shaped boxes with the tubes and

handles attached to them.

MAUDE:

Give the nose a treat, I thought.

Have a kind of olfactory banquet!

So I began first on the easiest -

roast beef, old books, mown grass,

then I went on to these -

(she reads the

labels on the

boxes)

"An Evening at Maxim's." "Mexican

Farmyard." Here's one you'd like.

"Snowfall on 42nd Street." Put

it on.

She helps him put on the oxygen-type mask.

MAUDE:

(continuing)

Now I'll pump it up...

(she does so)

... and you just turn the handles.

(he does)

Okay. What do you smell?

HAROLD:

Subways... Perfume... Cigarette...

(gradually becoming

more excited)

... Cologne... Carpet... Chestnuts!

... Snow!

MAUDE:

It goes on and on.

HAROLD:

That's really great.

He takes it off.

MAUDE:

Thank you. I thought of continuing

- graduating to the abstract and

free-smelling - but then I decided

to switch to the tactile.

She gestures at the wood sculpture.

MAUDE:

What do you think?

HAROLD:

Oh. Eh, I like it.

MAUDE:

No, you have to touch it.

(she demonstrates)

You have to run your hands over it,

get close to it, really reach

out and feel. You try it.

Harold tries. He gingerly moves his hand over a rather

sensuous curve.

MAUDE:

That's right. How's the sensation?

A low RISING WHISTLE is heard.

MAUDE:

Oh, that's the kettle.

(she goes to

kitchen)

Go ahead, Harold. Stroke, palm,

caress, explore.

Harold watches Maude leave the room. He hears her invita-

tion and looks at the sculpture. A battle is going on

inside him. ("Go ahead touch it! - Better not!") Maude

begins humming in the kitchen. She won't be out for a while.

Harold begins moving his hand over the polished wood. His

face is expressionless, but he moves his body closer and

his hand becomes more daring. He brings his other hand

onto the sculpture. He is enjoying the sensations. He

looks at the large hole before him. His hand moves around

it. ("Go ahead - Better not!") His eyes scan the room.

Suddenly he sticks his head in the hole, pulls it out,

steps back quickly, and looks over to the kitchen. Maude

is still out there humming. Harold relaxes, straightens

his suit, looks at the sculpture, and braves a short smile.

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