Housekeeping
- PG
- Year:
- 1987
- 116 min
- 256 Views
Grandpa was born in the plains.
It was absolutely flat, all around,
for hundreds of miles.
was like that.
Even the house
was dug out of the ground.
Then, one momentous day,
He must have found
a picture in a book.
He was amazed.
It became an obsession.
He drew and painted mountains
endlessly.
Mount Fujiyama,
the Alps, the Rockies.
He painted mountains all his life.
Before we were even born, he was
lying at the bottom of Fingerbone Lake.
in the wreckage of a train.
There were lots of mountains there.
That's the way
It was a good enough story,
we wanted to know.
For instance,
where was our father?
Nobody even mentioned him.
Where are the seagulls, Lucille?
I don't know.
Let me put the bread
right down here.
Hey!
Hi, Charlie!
You girls get inside.
Get inside, now.
Hey.
If you get inside
I'll bring you some custard.
Okay, Bernice.
Hey.
Guess what.
We're going to see Grandma.
In Bernice's car.
Didn't know I could drive,
did you?
No.
You shouldn't be smoking, ma'am.
Nice kids.
Sometimes they are.
Sometimes I live in the town
Sometimes I take a great notion
to jump in the river and drown
Eleven!
What are you counting?
- Horses.
- And cemeteries.
Come on, girls.
Come on. This way.
Years later, Lucille and I still
talked about the trip to Grandma's
Lucille would remember one thing,
and I another,
until we'd pieced together
the whole journey.
We tried so hard that we ended up
not knowing what we really remembered
from what we had just imagined.
And we often fought
over the details.
Grandma's at church,
but you're gonna wait here
and give her a nice surprise.
She'll be home in a little while,
okay?
Hm-hmm.
Where are you going?
I have to go
somewhere in the car.
But you're going to be good girls,
now, aren't you?
Here are some cookies.
And don't fight over them.
You'll stay inside, now,
won't you?
Ruthie?
can tell her you've been good girls.
Now, tell me "Cheerio".
Cheerio.
Can't we come, too?
But, then, nobody
would be home for Grandma.
Stay here.
Where's she going?
Oh, she was
about 5'8" and three quarters.
Very nice looking.
Dark hair.
The little girl looks
quite a little bit like her.
Her features are much the same.
- I'll just ask them.
- I see.
What kind of car is Mummy's?
It's Bernice's car.
Okay.
What kind of car is Bernice's?
Erm...
Green.
Ruthie?
Blue.
I could use some help.
Could you boys give me a push
onto some solid ground?
Sure.
Stick this under the wheel.
This, too.
- No, you don't want to waste that.
- Take it, it's okay.
No, we have some old clothes.
Sandy put your jacket
under the wheel on your side.
- No.
- C'mon Sandy.
I'm not moving
till you take this.
Use it!
Ah, yuck!
Thanks boys.
You've been a help.
Here. Take it.
I put the last of the white cake
on the table out there.
It won't last long.
Shall I fetch you a piece?
No, thanks, Etta.
The soup was enough.
How is she doing?
She's quiet enough.
Lucille and Ruthie.
No, George.
It's Ruthie and Lucille.
Have you shown the girls
the orchard yet?
Yes, we had a walk
in the orchard this morning
Have you shown them
your Indian knife?
Yes, I have.
Have you shown them
your Spanish coin?
No, it's in my other pants' pocket.
Grandmother
looked after us for seven years.
The paperboy was the only
person under 60 that we saw regularly.
It seemed as if,
all her life,
she was destined to be
braiding hair and whitening shoes.
And she worried for us.
Once, she told us she'd dreamed that
she'd seen a baby fall from an airplane.
in her apron.
And once, in a dream,
she had tried to fish a baby
out of a well with a tea strainer.
She never talked about Mother,
or any of the family,
except Grandpa and his mountains.
It was only after she had died
that we were able to delve
amongst the treasures
in her room.
There, I found Mother
and her sister, Sylvie,
both banished
to the bottom drawer.
I had high hopes
of Grandma's treasures,
but most of the people in the photographs
remained strangers with no names.
I returned to the album often,
until the faces became familiar
and comfortable, like family.
It was comforting to find
Lucille and Mother and me there, too.
It seemed to suggest
that we belonged.
Although Grandma's death
made the front page of the Dispatch,
it was only because of her connection
with the spectacular derailment
that had widowed her
twenty years earlier.
It didn't even mention
the time or place of her funeral,
the Fingerbone wreck was retold.
My grandfather's death
had made him famous.
The disaster wasn't
strictly speaking spectacular
because nobody
saw it happen.
a moonless night.
The train was about
a mile out on the bridge
when the engine
nosed over toward the lake
and then the rest
like a weasel
sliding off a rock.
The bridge was
built on submerged hills.
On either side, the lake
slid away to unknown depths.
Who could tell where
the train might've come to rest?
down and down.
All that was ever found was a suitcase,
a seat cushion and a lettuce.
All that day
the people of Fingerbone
were reluctant to leave
the hole in the ice.
It could only have been
out of politeness,
for there was really
nothing they could do
for the two hundred
souls on the train.
So, they built fires
and stood around
discussing how the train
might've settled in the lake.
Some imagined it
sinking like a stone,
while others saw it sliding
through the water like an eel.
By the evening, the ice
was already beginning to heal.
All in all, it was a memorable day
in the history of Fingerbone.
It was reported in newspapers
as far away as Denver and Saint Paul.
Relax your arms, Ruthie.
The stiffness goes
all the way down to your feet.
I hate those dogs!
When Grandmother died,
the house and her savings
became Lucille's and mine.
Our great-aunts, Lily and Nona,
came from Spokane to look after us.
They were almost destitute and
appreciated the savings in rent,
but they didn't
take to Fingerbone at all.
This is much too late
The time went by so fast.
We're really sorry.
You see, we can't
go out looking for you.
We might get lost.
Or fall in the ice.
There are no street lights,
and they never sand the roads.
Dogs aren't on chains.
And the cold is so bitter.
We feel it even in the house.
We won't come back
after dark anymore.
You weren't on the ice,
were you?
No.
It's just a broken branch.
Oh, my!
It's just
a cable down. It happens.
Don't worry.
I'll fetch some candles.
Oh, dear!
If you dream
about somebody dead,
does it mean
they're haunting you?
I don't know.
It feels like it.
Translation
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Housekeeping" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/housekeeping_10276>.
Discuss this script with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In