Lord of Illusions Page #5

�- and DRAW OUT from the letter to a different interior, a

different domestic circumstance.

On the screen:
Miami.

BARBARA - the blonde girl who carved the cult's sigil into

her chest - is washing her hands. She casually dries them,

and picks up the letter, walking past her HUSBAND and SON,

both DEAD at the breakfast table, BLOOD spreading around

their heads. When she gets to the door she steps over the

body of her DAUGHTER, who has also been shot trying to escape

her mother's murder spree.

ON THE RADIO, George Harrison sings "My Sweet Lord."

RADIO:

"I really want to see you, Lord,

And it won't take long, my Lord, My

sweet Lord..."

CUT TO:

EXT. SAN ANTONIO 200 - REPTILE HOUSE - DAY

On screen:
San Antonio.

A ZOO-KEEPER wanders into the darkened interior of the

Reptile House.

INT. REPTILE HOUSE - DAY

The Zoo-keeper's benign expression changes at the sight of

the chaos inside. The glass cases have been SMASHED. Another

KEEPER lies on the ground, his face pulped. A few SNAKES

slither around his body, but most of them have gone.

CUT TO:

EXT. SNAKE-HANDLER CULTIST'S CAR - DAY

The Snake-Handler Cultist drives at speed.

INT. SNAKE-HANDLER CULTIST'S CAR - DAY

PAN UP from another letter'- with the same message - on the

dashboard, to the crazed face of the Snake-Handler. PAN TO

the back of the car. IT SEETHES WITH HUNDREDS OF SNAKES.

EXT. SWANN'S MANSION - DAY

It's early morning in Bel-Air. The sun shines down on a

millionaire's paradise: a huge house surrounded by a jungle

of trees and blossoms.

EXT. SWANN'S MANSION - POOLSIDE - DAY

The blue water glitters in the noon-day sun. And a WOMAN --

her body perfectly proportioned -- glides under the surface,

emerging at the shallow end, where the housekeeper CLEMENZIA

is setting a tray on a table.

CLEMENZIA:

Coffee, Mrs. Swann?

Mrs. Swann's name is DOROTHEA. She is a beautiful and

sensual woman.

DOROTHEA:

Thank you.

She dries off.

DOROTHEA:

Where's Mr. Swann?

CLEMENZIA:

In his study.

(a beat)

He got something on his mind?

DOROTHEA:

Why?

CLEMENZIA:

Bad mood today.

INT. SWANN'S MANSION - STUDY - DAY

Venetian blinds shut out most of the sunlight, but a lamp

burns on the desk (huge), showing us the furniture (leather),

the books (innumerable), and the figure of SWANN, sitting

behind the desk smoking a CIGAR. He's lost some hair and

some colour over the years, but he still has the same

hypnotic eyes.

He studies the L.A. TIMES in front of him.

ON THE OPEN PAGE

"Fortune Teller Brutally Murdered," the headline announces.

Underneath, a PHOTOGRAPH of Quaid's wrecked room. WE CLOSE

IN on the photograph, and catch a glimpse of Harry, standing

looking at the chaos. CAMERA. MOVES DOWN to the text

beneath, and on to the name "Harry D'Amour."

ON SWANN, pensive as he studies the paper.

DOROTHEA (V.O.)

(softly)

Hey...

He looks up, startled.

DOROTHEA The sun's shining out there. Dorothea is dressed in

a white robe now. She literally brings light into this

gloomy room. On the shelves behind Swann are a number of art

brut figurines, vaguely recalling the idols outside Nix's

"temple."

DOROTHEA:

Bad show last night?

SWANN:

(wearily)

The usual. Full house. Standing

ovation. I tell them it's magic...

DOROTHEA:

(distastefully)

... they believe you.

SWANN:

Yeah.

(a beat)

Remember Quaid?

DOROTHEA:

Sure.

SWANN:

Somebody killed him.

DOROTHEA:

Oh God.

SWANN:

(disturbed)

I just saw him.

A difficult silence. Then Swann crosses to the door.

SWANN:

I'm putting in a new illusion

tonight. Will you be there?

DOROTHEA:

Sure. You want me to find out

about Quaid? I mean, the funeral?

SWANN:

No.

(superstitiously)

I'm not going near him.

INT. SWANN'S MANSION - LOBBY - DAY

VALENTIN is overseeing the hanging of a new piece in Swann's

collection:
a huge, framed POSTER from a late nineteenth

century magic spectacular. Valentin is fifty or so, his gray

hair combed back close to his scalp. Immaculately dressed in

a distinctively European fashion. Precise. Cautious.

Elegant.

He orders the TWO PICTURE-HANGERS in a clipped fashion.

VALENTIN:

Higher. Another inch. The left

hand side's too low.

Dorothea descends the stairs, dressed for the day.

DOROTHEA:

Valentin?

VALENTIN:

(to Hangers)

Good. There.

(to Dorothea)

Yes?

DOROTHEA:

(gives him the newspaper)

You saw this?

Valentin nods. They walk back through the house together,

while the picture-hanging goes on behind them.

DOROTHEA:

I want you to find this man D'Amour

for me.

She passes the newspaper to Valentin. He looks down at it.

ON NEWSPAPER.

C.U. of Harry's blurred PICTURE.

INT. HARRY'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY

Harry is sprawled on the bed, in his under shorts. A shaft of

sun darts between the drapes, missing his face by inches.

Somebody is knocking on the door, hard.

HARRY:

(waking)

What...?

He rolls over. The sun strikes his eyes. He winces.

HARRY:

Sh*t.

VALENTIN (V.O.)

Mr. D'Amour?

HARRY:

Go away.

VALENTIN (V.O.)

It's one in the afternoon.

HARRY:

What are you, my mother?

VALENTIN (V.O.)

I need to speak to you, Mr.

D'Amour. About last night.

Harry gets up and stumbles to the door. He opens it a

little. The face of VALENTIN is visible through the crack.

HARRY:

Whatever I said, I didn't mean it,

okay? I get a few drinks inside me --

VALENTIN:

We've never met.

HARRY:

Then what do you want?

VALENTIN:

I'm here to offer you a job.

HARRY:

I'm going back to New York in--

(consults his watch)

Sh*t! I'm outta here.

VALENTIN:

Have you got a job that'll pay you

five thousand a day?

A beat. Then Harry takes the chain off the door.

HARRY:

Do I get lunch?

CUT TO:

EXT. SANTA MONICA BLVD. - DAY

A white SEDAN glides along the boulevard. At the wheel,

Valentin. Beside him, Harry.

INT. SEDAN - DAY

Harry is eating a burrito and sipping coffee.

HARRY:

Whose is the car?

VALENTIN:

Mine.

HARRY:

Nah. You're driving it too

carefully.

VALENTIN:

(sparring)

Maybe I just bought it.

HARRY:

Somebody's been smoking in here for

months.

He pulls open the ashtray. Pulls out a cigar-butt.

HARRY:

Havanas. You're not the

smoker. So who is?

VALENTIN:

(laughs)

You could almost pass for a

detective, D'Amour.

(a beat)

I work for the best illusionist in

the world.

HARRY:

Philip Swann?

VALENTIN:

You know of him?

HARRY:

I saw him in Vegas once.

VALENTIN:

Are you a gambling man?

HARRY:

When I can afford to lose. Swann's

quite a magician.

VALENTIN:

Never call him that. He's strictly

an illusionist.

HARRY:

What's the difference?

VALENTIN:

Illusions are trickery. Magicians

do it for real.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD CEMETERY - GATES - DAY

The sedan turns into a driveway.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD CEMETERY - DAY

The sun beats down on a pristine panorama of palms and white

marble tombs. Harry and Valentin walk towards a large

mausoleum.

HARRY:

Any movie stars buried here?

VALENTIN:

Probably.

HARRY:

It's not a bad place. Warm.

Great view.

VALENTIN:

I don't think the dead much care.

HARRY:

Are you sure?

VALENTIN:

Are you a believer, then?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes