Lord of Illusions Page #6

Valentin gives him an inquisitive look.

HARRY:

I've signed on for them all in my

time. Hindu. Catholic. You can't

have too many saviours.

Harry's gaze is on the mausoleum now; or rather on the woman

in white standing in its cool shadows: Dorothea Swann. She

wears a wide-brimmed hat.

HARRY:

Who is she?

VALENTIN:

Swann's wife.

CUT TO:

VALENTIN sitting on the mausoleum steps reading a book. He

glances up.

Harry and Dorothea are wandering between the graves, deep in

conversation.

DOROTHEA:

I want you to help me help my

husband. I know he's in some kind

of trouble. And it's something to

do with the man you saw murdered.

HARRY:

Did your husband know Quaid?

DOROTHEA:

Yes. They weren't close, but they

saw each other once in a while. I

think Philip believes all that

stuff with the tarot cards.

HARRY:

You don't?

DOROTHEA:

I think we make our own futures.

Harry makes an approving MURMUR.

HARRY:

What's the connection?

DOROTHEA:

(covering now, but well)

I don't exactly know.

Philip doesn't like to talk about

the past.

HARRY:

Why not?

Dorothea stops talking. Takes off her sunglasses. Her gaze

is troubled, but direct. There is an attraction between the

two of them that simmers beneath the dialogue.

DOROTHEA:

He's a secretive man.

HARRY:

And you don't ask questions?

DOROTHEA:

We don't share our lives the way a

lot of people do.

HARRY:

Does that mean...?

DOROTHEA:

We haven't slept in the same bed

for years.

HARRY:

But obviously you still care what

happens to him.

DOROTHEA:

We wouldn't be having this

conversation if I didn't. Swann's

one of the most remarkable men

alive.

Harry, frowns.

DOROTHEA:

You don't believe me.

HARRY:

He's an illusionist. It's not

exactly brain surgery.

Dorothea stares at him.

HARRY:

Sorry. You asked.

DOROTHEA:

No. You're right. He could have

been something more. Maybe a lot

more. But people get lost. Even

good people. Too much fame. Too

much money,

HARRY:

Where do I sign?

Dorothea LAUGHS lightly.

DOROTHEA:

Will you take the job, Mr. D'Amour?

HARRY:

Harry.

DOROTHEA:

Harry.

HARRY:

I'm no bodyguard.

DOROTHEA:

That's not what I'm asking for. I

want somebody who can find out what

Philip saw in those damn cards.

And stop it from happening.

HARRY:

When do you want me to start?

DOROTHEA:

Come to the show with me. Tonight I

want you to see him with an

audience. They love him.

HARRY:

Do you?

The question catches Dorothea off guard.

DOROTHEA:

I didn't marry him for love, Mr.

D'Amour. Tonight?

HARRY:

Sure.

Dorothea makes a little smile, and walks away. Harry watches

her go, exhaling an appreciative breath at the sight of her

departing figure.

CUT TO:

INT. HARRY'S HOTEL ROOM - DUSK

Harry's talking on the phone while he dresses for the

theatre.

HARRY:

You're not listening to me, Loomis.

CUT TO:

INT. LOOMIS' OFFICE - MEW YORK - NIGHT

LOOMIS, a slob of a man, is in his office, eating pizza.

INTERCUT PHONE CONVERSATION

LOOMIS:

The case is closed. Harry. Tapert's

given us a full confession. Get

your ass back to Mew York.

HARRY:

No. I'm taking a couple of weeks'

vacation.

LOOMIS:

You never took a f***ing vacation

in your life, Harry. What's going

on?

HARRY:

I got to go. I'm late.

LOOMIS:

Call me tomorrow.

HARRY:

There's other guys as good as me,

Loomis.

LOOMIS:

Yeah. But not as cheap. Call me.

HARRY:

A couple of weeks.

LOOMIS:

One question.

HARRY:

What?

LOOMIS:

Who is she?

Harry can't help but smile to himself.

LOOMIS:

I thought so. 'Night, Harry.

Click. Harry puts down the phone. Glances at himself in the

mirror. Raises a rueful eyebrow.

CUT TO:

EXT. WILTERN THEATRE - NIGHT

CRANE DOWN from a looming STANDEE of Swann, perched above the

theatre marquee. SPOTLIGHTS rake the skies. The sidewalk

below is jammed with AUDIENCE MEMBERS, STAR-SPOTTERS and

PHOTOGRAPHERS. This is a flashy, prestigious event. LIMOS

are disgorging scantily- dressed STARLETS and smiling MONEY

MEN; a NEWS TEAM is interviewing audience members as they

file in.

The atmosphere is noisy and excited. Amid the throng, Harry.

He makes his way inside.

INT. WILTERN THEATRE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

The atmosphere, is closer to a rock concert than a

conventional stage show. Security people with walkie-

talkies roam the aisles; the audience buzzes with barely

controlled hysteria.

Harry heads down the aisle, eyes on the stage. A star-lit

CURTAIN covers it. Six rows from the stage is Dorothea,

already in her seat. She smiles lavishly, happy to see him.

DOROTHEA:

I'm glad you could make it.

Harry takes a seat beside her.

HARRY:

Hey, this is a big deal for me. You

know what seats like this cost in

New York?

INT. WILTERN THEATRE - STAGE - NIGHT

Center-stage, behind the closed curtains, Swann is ready for

the opening of the show. TECHNICIANS buzz around him like

flies.

SWANN:

Valentin!

Valentin emerges from the wings, patting the PANTHER that is

waiting there.

SWANN:

(irritated)

Valentin!

VALENTIN:

I'm here.

SWANN:

The guy with Dorothea. Is that who

I think it is?

Valentin nods.

ON SWANN, his expression unreadable.

SWANN:

He's young.

MUSIC strikes up. A dramatic, Wagnerian chord. Valentin

hurries away. Swann's expression becomes very focused.

1ST TECHNICIAN

(to Swann)

Ready?

SWANN:

Ready.

Swann rises up into the flies.

1ST TECHNICIAN

How the f*** does he do that?

2ND TECHNICIAN

It's wires, man.

1ST TECHNICIAN

I never seen no wires.

2ND TECHNICIAN

(sarcastic)

So what is it? Magic?

INT. WILTERN THEATRE - AUDITORIUM AND STAGE - NIGHT

The LIGHTS are DIMMING. Harry glances across at Dorothea,

whose gaze is intent.

The LIGHTS go OUT. The MUSIC SWELLS, and the CURTAINS fly

apart. A spectacle worthy of Seigfried and Roy is about to

blast our senses! Magic for the 90's: a wild, erotic ride

into mystery.

SWANN (V.O.)

Ladies and gentlemen. You are

standing on the threshold of a

miracle...

A vortex of SMOKE and LIGHT swirls in the middle of the

stage.

The vortex BLAZES --

And suddenly Swann SWEEPS DOWN out of the flies, as the floor

of the stage opens and the head of a glittering, razor

toothed DRAGON emerges in a cloud of CRIMSON SMOKE.

Swann raises his hands above his head and a SPEAR

miraculously appears in his grasp. He descends on the

dragon. It's a classic image: St. Michael smiting the

Devil. Swann drives the spear down the throat of the dragon.

The theatre SHAKES at its dying ROARS. Then the head cracks

open, and out of the dragon's mouth emerge a dozen scantily

dressed DANCERS, male and female. Swann throws down the

spear, and where it strikes the stage his PANTHER appears.

A ROAR of APPLAUSE from the audience. Swann's plain white

tunic falls away from him as he descends. By the time his

feet touch the stage he is dressed in a star- shot TUXEDO.

The PANTHER licks his hand in welcome. The MUSIC comes to a

crescendo. The DANCERS freeze in their erotic dance. In the

sudden hush, Swann speaks in a whisper.

SWANN:

My friends ... come with me...into

the Great Beyond.

A barrage of LIGHTS and MUSIC erupt.

The AUDIENCE APPLAUDS wildly.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes