Infinitely Polar Bear Page #10

AMELIA:

You’re probably sorry you married

him.

MAGGIE:

No. Never.

Amelia snuggles in closer.

AMELIA:

You know, he’s not usually so angry

like he just was. We yell at him

way more than he yells at us.

This information is not comforting to Maggie.

EXT. STREET. DAY

A cold winter day in a run-down part of Somerville,

Massachusetts.

Cam leans over the engine of a dented and rusty Plymouth

Valiant, gunmetal gray with white patches. He wears a grimy

green parka with a gray three-piece suit poking out

underneath. He wears nice leather shoes. A cigarette hangs

out of his mouth. His hair is combed.

He shuts the hood.

60.

Amelia and Faith watch apprehensively. Amelia wears a parka

over white tights. Her snarly hair is pulled back in two

barrettes. Faith wears a long wool coat and has her hair

neatly combed under a velvet headband.

Cam crosses to the driver’s side, gets in and turns the car

on, revs the engine. CHRIS, the unfriendly man selling the

car, doesn’t even try to give a spiel.

CHRIS:

Like I said in the ad, it runs.

Cam looks around the interior of the car.

CHRIS:

There’s been some wear and tear on

the seats.

A large flap of vinyl hangs down revealing the foam

underneath. In the front and the back.

CAM:

Get in, girls, see what you think.

Chris opens the back door and the unhappy girls start to

climb in.

AMELIA:

There’s no floor!

CHRIS:

It’s a little rusted. Don’t step

on it.

Amelia and Faith look at each other, sinking. They slide

onto the backseat without stepping on the floor.

Cam leans through the back door and looks at the floor well,

which is a rusty hole with ragged rusted edges.

CAM:

No floor? That’s dangerous. I

have two small children. I’ll give

you three hundred and you deal with

the Fiat.

He points to the Fiat which now has a broken driver side

window that’s been taped up with plastic and duct tape.

INT. VALIANT. DAY

As the Valiant pulls away, Amelia kneels on the backseat and

waves out the back window.

61.

AMELIA:

Goodbye, Fiat! Goodbye, Fiat!

Cam honks the horn in rapid succession for a cheerful,

triumphant goodbye. They drive out into the street. Faith

sits down and opens a “Harper’s Bazaar” but Amelia stays

kneeling on the seat, looking out the back window. Her eyes

fill with tears.

FAITH:

Daddy, Amelia’s crying.

AMELIA:

You always cry.

Faith looks out the window, an angry expression on her face.

FAITH:

Not anymore. I vowed never to cry

again.

Cam looks in the rear-view mirror with concern.

CAM:

My little Stoic? What’s wrong,

darling? Ma petite pamplemousse?

The tears roll down Amelia’s face and she can’t wipe them

away fast enough.

AMELIA:

It’s just... What’s going to happen

to the Fiat? Nobody’s going to

want it.

FAITH:

I thought you were crying because

this car sucks.

Amelia shakes her head and says in a small voice:

AMELIA:

That car sucked too.

She watches as the Fiat gets smaller and smaller and then

they turn a corner and it’s gone.

INT. VALIANT. DAY

The girls lie across the backseat, leaning against either

door, huddled beneath an old army blanket. They wear hats.

62.

Faith has the “Harper’s Bazaar” magazine on her chest and

Amelia holds a book called “Turning Your Dream Into A Small

Business”.

They are both mesmerized at the sight of the highway rushing

by through the rusty holes in the floor.

EXT. WESTON ESTATE. DAY

The Valiant turns onto a long driveway and drives past an

enormous lawn and a large weeping willow and an unattached

four car garage and parks in the circle in front of the

house, behind a maroon Bentley.

INT. DINING ROOM. DAY

A regal old lady sits at the head of a long mahogany table, a

little silver bell by her water glass. She is 92 and of

another era, extremely patrician. She wears a long-sleeved

black dress, pearls and a blonde wig that looks like hair

swirled into a bun. This is GAGA. Cam is at the foot and

the girls are in the middle. The table could sit twelve.

A BUTLER brings around a silver bowl of mashed potatoes.

Faith spoons a huge amount onto her plate next to the roast

beef and the peas. The butler continues around the table.

GAGA:

I propose a game of crazy eights

after lunch.

FAITH:

Yeah!

GAGA:

We don’t say ‘yeah,’ dear. We say

‘yes.’

CAM:

Thank you, Gaga. Their mother

keeps fighting that battle.

GAGA:

And how is their mother?

CAM:

She’s well. She’s been home every

weekend. But she has finals so she

stayed in New York to study. We’re

muddling through without her.

(to the butler)

(MORE)

63.

CAM (cont'd)

Tell Betty the roast beef is

divine.

The butler nods silently and disappears to the kitchen.

GAGA:

Do you girls think it’s unusual

that your mother is in New York?

AMELIA:

She wants to have more career

opportunities.

FAITH:

Mommy says women can do anything.

GAGA:

She’s quite a “striver,” isn’t she?

That hangs in the air for the moment.

CAM:

We prefer the word “fighter.”

FAITH:

(pointing)

Is that a painting of Grandma

Paulie when she was little?

GAGA:

Yes. And it’s pronounced

(very patrician)

‘Paulie.’

FAITH:

Polly.

GAGA:

Paulie.

FAITH:

(trying hard)

Polly. Polly.

GAGA:

She’s not a parrot!

FAITH:

Polly.

Amelia thinks she’s got it.

AMELIA:

Polly!

64.

GAGA:

(frustrated)

Paulie. Pauline.

The little girls are really trying but they are unable to

hear the distinction.

AMELIA:

Polly.

FAITH:

Polline.

GAGA:

What is the world coming to?

Faith is fiercely concentrating. She says with extreme self-

consciousness in a faux British accent:

FAITH:

‘Paul-ie.’

GAGA:

Yes!

INT. LIVING ROOM. LATER

The girls sit at a game table playing cards with Gaga. Cam

enters, wearing his parka, carrying two large ancient cookie

sheets under his arm and a large roll of duct tape.

CAM:

I’m going out to work on the car.

As Gaga shuffles the cards:

GAGA:

The girls tell me it has no floor.

CAM:

It had no floor.

(holding up cookie sheets)

I found these in your kitchen

vault. Betty said I could have

them.

FAITH:

Cookie sheets?

CAM:

You won’t be able to step on them,

but it’ll keep out the cold air and

detritus.

65.

Amelia sighs and shakes her head.

GAGA:

Cam, I’m very proud of you for

taking care of these darling girls

all by yourself. I mostly use the

Lincoln these days. I’d like you

to have the Bentley.

The girls scream and leap to their feet like Lottery winners.

INT. BENTLEY. MOMENTS LATER

Amelia and Faith are scrambling all over it, touching

everything. They push every button. They run their hands

over the smooth wood. They rest their cheeks against the

leather and inhale. Amelia sits in the driver’s seat and

waves through the windshield at her father, who is outside,

looking at the car with apprehension, smoking a cigarette.

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