Mother!

FIRE:

Everywhere.

We see just a WOMAN’S EYES: defiant... sad... defeated...

but free...

Her eyes close as everything becomes

WHITE:

And from the light a

CHARRED BOOKCASE

Hands place a CRYSTAL FORMATION on a burnt shelf.

They belong to HIM. His eyes torn with misery and sadness.

He calms down. Closes his eyes. Wishes.

Slowly color repairs the shelf, returning it to an un-burnt

state.

Now, dawn light reveals glimpses inside a

HOME:

Repairing itself from a fire: the front door, a hand rail, a

window onto the porch, the plaster work along the ceiling,

the ruffled sheets on a comfortable bed in the

MASTER BEDROOM:

They come back to life. A body emerges before us. A young

woman in that comfortable bed reaching for her man. Empty.

She turns into camera. This is MOTHER alone, her partner now

gone.

She sits up and looks around.

MOTHER:

Baby?

A moment of concern. She slips on her robe and heads down

the stairs past a

2.

STUDY:

The door is open but the room is empty. She closes the door

and continues down the open

STAIRWELL:

The front door is closed. The dining room is empty. So is

the drawing room.

She rushes through the

HALLWAY:

Peeks into an empty bedroom and marches into the

KITCHEN:

She looks out the window. Dawn reveals the rolling hills.

No one is out there.

She rushes past the pantry and the dining room and into the

FOYER:

She opens the door, steps out onto the porch, and stares intothe blinding morning sun.

She doesn’t see anyone. It is chilly, so she quickly turns

to head inside and bumps into HIM.

MOTHER:

You scared me.

HIM:

Sorry. Didn’t mean to.

He kisses her. She melts into it. Happy. Nowhere she’d

rather be. She sees the dirt on his shirt.

MOTHER:

You were outside?

He nods.

MOTHER:

Why didn’t you wake me?

HIM:

I wanted to be alone.

3.

That stings a little. He keeps going.

HIM:

I mean, I needed to clear my head,

get the ideas flowing.

MOTHER:

And did they?

His face says it all:

HIM:

No.

MOTHER:

They will. Don’t worry, it’ll

come.

He starts to pull away, doesn’t like this kind of talk. She

grabs him and hugs him hard. Tries for another kiss.

But he pulls away.

HIM:

I must stink.

She smiles at him, inviting.

MOTHER:

I like it...

HIM:

I’d better shower.

He smiles, turns, and leaves. She watches him go to the

stairs. Something creeps into her bliss. She steps inside

and closes the front door.

Later in the

DRAWING ROOM:

She mixes plaster. A perfectionist when it comes to details,

she carefully makes sure the tone is the perfect off-yellow.

But she can’t seem to get it quite right.

None of this is a chore. She enjoys every moment. But still

she is frustrated a bit.

She walks to the blank wall. She puts her hands against it.

She breathes the scratch coat as she closes her eyes to the

4.

DARKNESS OF HER IMAGINATION

She hears air breathe between the home’s walls, the deeprhythmic beat of its mechanical systems, the fluids flowingthrough its pipes. We see the house, we see her, we see

them. Back in the

DRAWING ROOM:

She looks back at her mixture. She knows exactly what is

wrong. She opens a small old wooden box filled with vials ofcolored powders. She adds some from one filled with a

yellowish tint.

As she mixes it a smile creeps in. The color is right. She

starts to plaster. Later in the

KITCHEN:

Mother finishes cleaning dishes at the sink. She has justprepared two beautiful plates of food but the kitchen isspotless, there’s no mess. HIM enters and reaches for a pair

of drinking glasses.

HIM:

Can I grab these?

MOTHER:

I got it.

He carries the glasses to the table by the windows. He sits

down and opens up his napkin. She serves him.

HIM:

Perfect. You didn’t need to do all

of this.

MOTHER:

I wanted to. You’ve been working

so hard.

HIM:

(sarcastic)

Yeah, right.

He digs in, barely looking at her. Later, in the

5.

STUDY:

The room is mostly finished. The shelves are filled with

autobiographies of all shapes and sizes. One shelf is filled

with citations and BRASS awards.

She adds a log to the fire then settles into a comfy chair

with a thick book.

HIM stares out the window. An idea comes to him. He goes to

his desk and sits down.

She sneaks a peek, hopeful.

He looks at a blank page. Nothing comes to him. He fiddles

with his pen and looks at his awards. Then he looks out the

window.

She starts to read again.

There’s a KNOCK at the front door.

They look at each other. That’s strange. She starts to rise

but he gets up quicker.

HIM:

(slight concern)

Wait here.

He heads out of the room. She waits a few moments.

She looks at the papers on his desk. BLANK.

All the pages are BLANK. She heads towards the

FRONT DOOR:

She can’t see who it is because the front door blocks her

view, but HIM stands listening to whoever is there.

HIM:

Please, come in.

He opens the door wider and MAN enters, sees Mother, andremoves his cap.

MAN:

Oh, hello.

MOTHER:

Hello.

6.

HIM:

So this gentleman here just startedworking at the hospital and hethought we were...

(curious, to Man)

What do you do there?

MAN:

I’m an orthopedic surgeon.

HIM:

Really?

MAN:

But mostly now I do research. And

teach.

HIM:

Research?

MAN:

Yes I know, it’s bit boring...

HIM:

(laughing)

Not boring at all. Sit for a

second. Can we get you anything to

drink?

MAN:

No, that’s fine...

MOTHER:

Some tea?

MAN:

No, I don’t want to be a bother.

HIM:

You must. A guest, and a doctor,

who knows I might trip down thestairs one day.

MAN:

Let’s hope not.

MOTHER:

(smiles)

I’ll go make some.

MAN:

Thank you.

7.

HIM:

This way please. Sorry for themess, we are moving in after monthsof construction.

Mother heads out of the room.

MAN:

It’s an incredible place.

HIM:

My wife loves having company.

MAN:

Your wife? I thought it was your

daughter.

She looks back aghast. Buries it, and heads into the

KITCHEN:

Behind her, HIM invites Man to sit in the partially finisheddrawing room.

She turns on the kettle and prepares three cups. One slips

and shatters on the floor.

HIM (O.S.)

You all right?

MOTHER:

(barely squeaks)

Fine.

But she’s not. Her chest tightens --the space right beneath

her STERNUM. Her breaths get shallow. She feels real

discomfort.

The house shifts slightly, her reality on fire. She fights

to re-find her breath. Some sweat on her brow.

After a moment the pain passes. She cleans up the broken tea

cup. She replaces it as the kettle whistles.

Then, she carries everything back to the

DRAWING ROOM:

Where Man and HIM sip whiskey.

8.

MAN:

...There was this one case, it was

an opera singer, late twenties.

Her femurs were rotated so far

inward that she couldn’t spread herknees more than a foot apart.

HIM:

Really?

MAN:

(to Mother)

Why, thank you.

Mother lays down the tray.

MOTHER:

(re:
whiskey)

You upgraded. Where’d that come

from?

MAN:

I always carry a supply.

HIM:

I’ve never tasted something likethis.

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