Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House Page #6

BETSY:

Certainly, mother. What some people

don't see is the whole sordid picture.

A poor, honest farmer, pushed to the

wall by hardship, soil erosion,

mortgages, everybody gobbling,

gobbling, gobbling, until finally,

in desperation, he is "forced to

sell," and stoops to the crass

commercialism of newspaper

advertising.

JIM:

(muttering)

Oh, indeed... crass commercialism...

advertising...

JOAN:

(nose in her magazine)

Miss Stellwagon says advertising is

a basically parasitic profession.

JIM:

(with extreme control)

Oh, she does?

JOAN:

Miss Stellwagon says that advertising

makes people who can't afford it buy

things they don't want with money

they haven't got.

JIM:

(elaborate sarcasm)

Perhaps your Miss Stellwagon is right.

Perhaps I ought to get out of this

"basically parasitic profession,"

which at the moment is paying for

her very fancy tuition, those extra

French lessons, her progressive summer

camp and for that matter, the very

braces on your teeth!

MURIEL:

I wish you wouldn't discuss money in

front of the children.

JIM:

Why not, they spend enough of it!

JOAN:

Bicker, bicker, bicker.

As Jim gives her a look and buries himself in his paper, the

downstairs buzzer rings. Gussie enters, squeezes by Jim who

automatically ducks, goes to the phone in b.g.

GUSSIE:

Hello. Who?

(calls)

Miss Blandings, there's a Mr.

Funkhauser wants to see you.

MURIEL:

Funkhauser?

(remembers)

Oh, Mr. Funkhauser!

GUSSIE:

That's what he says.

Muriel looks nervously at Jim who is preoccupied, reading

his paper. Then she turns back to Gussie.

MURIEL:

Uh -- better ask him to come up.

GUSSIE:

(into phone)

Says to come up.

Gussie hangs up, squeezes by Jim, exits into the kitchen.

Pause.

MURIEL:

(tentatively)

Oh -- uh -- darling, Mr. Funkhauser's

here.

JIM:

(looking up)

...Who?

MURIEL:

You remember, Bunny Funkhauser, that

clever young interior decorator we

met at the Collins' cocktail party?

JIM:

(distastefully)

What's he doing here?

MURIEL:

(nervously)

Well, I imagine he's brought the --

uh -- estimates.

JIM:

(blankly)

...Estimates?

MURIEL:

(rapidly; to conceal

a feeling of guilt)

Darling, you know how long we've

said we've got to do something about

this apartment, and, well, he called

last week, and I had him come over,

and he's got some simply wonderful

ideas!

JIM:

(quietly)

There couldn't be two Bunny

Funkhausers, could there?

MURIEL:

Why, no, dear.

JIM:

Then this is the same clever young

man who's responsible for that zebra-

striped monstrosity in the Collins'

living room?

MURIEL:

That couch is terribly functional.

JIM:

Phil Collins told me what he paid

for all that function!

(angrily)

If you think I'm going to --

SOUND of doorbell ringing.

MURIEL:

Darling, please!

(changing subject)

Children, you'll be late to school.

Run along and --

The children rise, pick up their school paraphernalia.

JOAN:

Miss Stellwagon says that

functionalism in modern furniture --

MURIEL:

Never mind, dear.

She hustles Betsy and Joan toward the foyer as Jim rises.

INT. FOYER

Gussie has just admitted Mr. Funkhauser. He is a tall,

slender, effete-looking, young man. He is loaded down with

sketches, samples of wallpaper, bolts of material. Betsy and

Joan brush by him on their way out.

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