Isn't She Great Page #3

Keep up your strength.

No. Not till I'm famous.

I'm going on a hunger strike, like

whatshisname? Gandhi. He got famous!

And thin. HE PANTS A book!

Huh? A book!

Oh, come on, Irving.

Reading never solved anything.

She's not gonna read a book.

What are you talking about?

You're gonna write one.

Ah, Irving, stop. You're crazy.

A book. I can't write a book.

You can. You can do anything.

You wrote a play.

It was a bomb.

You wrote articles

about Josephine.

People loved them. They went wild.

She's a dog!

You write beautiful

letters to Guy.

They read them to him like that one

where you described your mink coat.

I was inspired.

Writers get famous, world famous.

They get legendary.

You know, he's got a point there.

You think about Hemingway and, er,

Dickens, and... I'm sure there are others.

But, Flo, a book, a whole book.

What the hell am I gonna write about?

Mmm! I got it. What?

You write about me.

No, you write about

this beautiful actress

and all the handsome young

men who desire her.

Science fiction?

Ooh.

Do you remember the movie

I Remember Mama? Irene Dunne.

Right. She played a Swedish woman who

had a daughter who wanted to be a writer.

Can you believe she got a nomination

for that? It was a slow year. Flo!

The little girl was in the kitchen

with her wonderful, Swedish mother.

And the mother said,

"Write about what you know."

So she wrote about her Swedish

mother. It was a blockbuster.

But I don't have

a wonderful Swedish mother!

And all I know about

is show business.

All I know about are people

f***ing their way into movies,

popping pills and winding

up in the gutter.

All I know about are ageing stars,

hopeful whores and cheap studs.

All I know about are tits, ass,

and the truth.

And nobody writes books about that.

Why not?

Jackie?

Yeah?

You wouldn't use real names,

would you?

"He held her gently

and stroked her hair.

"Oh, Lyon, it happened."

"I was beginning to worry about

myself. Not at all.

"It's very rare for a girl

to actually feel anything,

or reach a climax,

in the beginning."

JOSIE BARKS:

"She stroked the beaver coat

one night with Robbie.

"That's what a great body was for,

to get things you wanted.

"She wondered what it would be like,

really to care,

"to love someone like Lyon Burke.

"Then she opened the bottle of pills.

"She took two of them.

"One worked, but two..."

Sally, she's taking to this writing

thing like a duck to water.

She calls me her literary advisor,

her muse. Irving! I don't know.

Yeah?

Can I write about having orgasms?

Yes.

You've never heard such typing.

She's a regular Shakespeare.

Irving?

Yes?

What about orgasms

in swimming pools? Even better.

Did you hear? Even Shakespeare did

not think of that, on his best day.

"The soft numbness began to slither

through her body..." KNOCK ON DOOR

Sweetheart. Chapter twelve,

Jennifer's wedding night.

She's marrying Tony Polar,

the handsome nightclub singer.

He wants her to perform an

unspeakable sexual act? I'm lost.

Up the butt!

Ah. Gotcha.

"An angry concrete animal

caught unawares in a hot spell.

"September had been a good month.

October brought Lyon Burke.

"He crawled on his knees after her.

She backed away again.

" 'Tony, all of this is not yours.'

" 'It's mine.' He came after her.

She eluded him again.

"She stroked her thighs, her

fingers touching between her legs.

" 'That's mine, too,'

she said softly.

" 'Who are you protecting?

A whore who contaminated my pool?

" 'You mean nothing to him.

He likes boys for his diversion.

" 'I can't believe it, every time

I touch them, I can't believe it.'

"His mouth, it was greedy.

She held his head gently.

" 'I never want to move,'

he mumbled." The end.

SHE SIGHS:

And so,

is it good? Is it great?

It's gotta be great. Is it

the greatest thing you've ever read?

Honey, it's incredible.

It's like...

..Madame Bovary.

Name a real book!

It's like Gone With The Wind.

Like the movie? You mean, it's like

a book that could win an Oscar?

Only filthier!

Irving!

Oh!

DOG BARKS:

Mr Hunter says to tell

you that your manuscript

is not what we're

looking for right now.

What?! So, sweetheart, tell me,

what are they looking for?

Quality.

Mm-hmm.

Please understand,

this isn't any fun for me.

But the fact is, there really isn't a place

for this sort of thing here at Putnam.

Why not? I want a reason.

We publish primarily classic

literary fiction

in the tradition of William

Faulkner and Herman Melville.

They're dead! They've stopped.

You've gotta be kidding.

This is a gold mine.

There might be some interest

at another house. Like which one?

Yours. You f***ing little

snot-nosed Ivy-League putz!

You're talking to a lady.

Oh!

Sweetheart, are you all right?

I'm f-f-fine. I'm just upset.

TV:
'We are delighted to present

James Brown on this show.

'So, let's have a fine welcome

to a very fine talent.' APPLAUSE

MUSIC PLAYS:

TV:
# Come here sister... #

Irving. Irving. Come in.

You gotta see this guy.

# He ain't too hip

# About that new breed babe

# He ain't no drag

# Papa's got a brand new bag. #

This guy's great!

# Wow! I feel good!

# I knew that I would now

# I feel good... #

Irving!

# So good!

# So good! I got you!

# When I hold you in my arms... #

This guy's gonna go far.

I'm telling you.

# When I hold you in my arms

# My love can't do me no harm... #

I need to talk to you.

Ah!

Is it that guy from Viking? The shithead

with the tweed vest and the bad teeth?

Like that proves he can read.

No, no. It wasn't about the book.

It was... Well...

Is it about Guy? Oh, my God.

What's wrong?

No, he's fine. Tops.

Is it the doctor? My doctor?

About the tests?

What...? What'd he say?

Baby, do you remember Greta Garbo

in Camilie? Yeah.

She was so beautiful, even with all

the coughing. What are you on about?

Or Bette Davis in Dark Victory?

It was one of your favourites.

Irving, what did the doctor say?

Do the warm-up.

Sit, sweetheart.

Sit for mommy!

You've got a lady waiting. She's got

something to say, a bone to pick.

Come on.

I give you Miss Jacqueline Susann.

F*** you!

Jackie! Don't interrupt me.

All I ever wanted was to be somebody.

And I was on my way.

Vaudeville, Schiffli, radio.

Then I have a baby, a gorgeous baby

who screams every time I touch him.

But that's OK. He's my baby.

I love him.

I want to make him proud, proud of

his famous mother. So I write a book.

A wonderful book. A fabulous book,

a bestseller, which nobody f***ing wants!

But I'm working on it. I'm out there.

I'm gonna show 'em all.

And then, whoops, ding-dong.

"Who's there? Why, it's cancer."

I get f***ing goddamn breast cancer!

Excuse us, we're in a meeting.

Sorry.

Were you bored?

Were you having a bad day? Did you

just say, "Hey, Jackie Susann,

"simply hasn't had enough sh*t

lately?" I have to agree.

You owe me!

Big time! So, cut the crap!

No more bullshit.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes