Paris - When It Sizzles Page #4

l mean, he's a perfect... stranger.

Miss Simpson, nobody's perfect.

Why, he asks, as they dance

and dance and dance,

are you so sad

when everyone is so gay?

And then a suggestion

from the mysterious stranger.

lf you try raising your upper lip,

you might at least create

the illusion of a smile.

That being somewhat of a disaster,

he really has to turn on the charm.

Do you know the word serendipity,

he asks. She shakes her head.

- What does it mean?

- Why, Miss Simpson, l'm surprised.

lt means opening your eyes

each morning

and looking at the bright new day

and going absolutely ape!

- Serendipity?

- Right.

- Are you making it up?

- No, serendipity's a real word.

Actually, it means the ability

to find pleasure, excitement

and happiness

in anything that occurs.

No matter how unexpected.

Serendipity!

He explains the word, in a much more

fascinating way than l did,

and at the right moment proposes

a glorious lunch in the Bois.

She's tempted.

But don't you think...?

Miss Simpson, he's not asking her

for a weekend at a motel

in Asbury Park, New Jersey.

He's inviting her to lunch!

Now, don't you think if he were

terribly terribly charming, she'd go?

- Well...

- Serendipity.

Alright, maybe. lf he promises it's

just lunch and that's absolutely all.

He promises. Unless she can think of

something she'd like to do after.

- Which she won't!

- Seren... Alright, then.

He hails a horse and carriage and

they go off to the Bois. Settled?

Settled. And now l suppose

we ought to write it.

Not at all.

The audience is ahead of us.

They've known she'll have lunch

with him for an hour.

But how do we get from the square

through the charm and serendipity

you do so brilliantly?

ln motion pictures

we have a simple device

which takes care of

exactly this situation. The dissolve.

Over the years,

the audience has been conditioned

to understand

that when a scene fades away,

like an old soldier,

before their very eyes,

and another scene gradually appears

to take its place,

a certain amount of time has elapsed.

So, Miss Simpson,

we dissolve...

We dissolve slowly

and lingeringly...

..to the Bois.

A hansom cab

bearing our handsome couple

clippety-clops its way

past waterfalls and trees

toward a magnificent restaurant.

Notice, Miss Simpson,

how cleverly I play

our suspense-filled melodrama

against a background

of holiday serendipity

in ''gay Paris''.

We will spare the audience

the pages of dreary small talk,

and get to the heart of the matter

by the simple use of the device

I'vejust explained, the dissolve.

Who are you? What do you do?

Who am l and what do l do?

l'm nobody

and l've done everything

and nothing.

Driven racing cars,

white hunter for a while,

piano player in a rather curious

establishment in Buenos Aires.

This and that,

everything and nothing.

The curse

of having been born too rich.

Oh, l know what you mean. The curse

of having been born too rich.

That's why l left the castle

for Paris.

The castle?

We've got houses all over the world,

but my favourite

was our summer place in Deauville

with its own private zoo.

As a little girl, on Sundays, if l'd

been good, l could feed the giraffes.

Giraffes? Don't tell me

that you had giraffes, too?

- You mean, you...?

- But of course.

Oh, what fun! Both of us

having had giraffes as children.

lt's a small world, isn't it?

Voil! Madame. Monsieur.

- To Rick.

- To Gabby.

lf l may recommend...?

l prefer to do it myself.

To begin, we'll have paper-thin

slices of prosciutto ham

wrapped carefully around well-ripened

sections of Persian melon.

To follow, a touch of Dover sole

sauted lightly

in champagne and butter.

With that, a bottle of...

Pouilly-Fuiss?

'59 will do. And after that...

..we'll have a Chateaubriand for two.

Erm, make that for four.

Charred and brown.

Nay, black on the outside

and gloriously rare on the in.

With the beef,

we'll have white asparagus

and a bottle of

Chteau Lafite Rothschild '47.

And for dessert, an enormous order

of fraises des bois...

Served, of course,

with globs of heavy cream

so thick you can put it on with

a shovel, s'il vous plat. Mwah!

You heard the lady.

And make it snappy, we're starving.

Now, while awaiting

the paper-thin slices of prosciutto,

so skilfully wrapped around

perfect sections

of ripened Persian melon...

Please, stop, l can't stand it.

Do you think they'll really do

the sole in champagne and butter?

Mm-hmm. ln any case,

while we're waiting,

l wonder if the lovely

Miss Gabrielle Simpson

would join the very talented

Mr Richard Benson

for a small dry aperitif? l think

she's earned it. They both have.

Alright. l think

that would be very nice.

l didn't really like Rick at first

but he's beginning to grow on me.

Mmmm...

So, you find Rick growing on you?

Oh, yes,

l think he's very attractive.

lmportant. The reaction

of the female audience.

Alright. Lunch is over. The martinis,

the two different wines and brandy

have had their effect,

and a glorious dream-like glow

is settling over them.

The pages, Miss Simpson.

Those that we have covered so far

with our fabulous prose.

Here you will notice, as advertised

in our discussion earlier on today,

the opening, a series of

interestingly photographed

establishing shots.

And here, the boy and the girl,

if a middle-aged mysterious stranger

can indeed be called a boy, meet.

You're not middle-aged, Mr Benson.

ln fact, l think you're remarkably

well preserved.

As chilling a compliment as

l've ever received, Miss Simpson.

However, to continue,

pages eight, nine,

ten of romantic chitchat.

- Which you do so brilliantly.

- Why, thank you.

Now you can feel the unconscious

attraction between the two,

the tremulous beginnings of love.

You see how easy it is

with professional know-how

and experience on your side?

Miss Simpson,

l don't think you realise this,

but a writer's life

is a terribly lonely one.

- Mr Benson.

- Hmm?

Have you any idea at all

what happens next?

Do you, Miss Simpson,

have any idea what will happen?

Well...

We've got to remember

that no matter how charming he seems,

he is a liar and a thief.

lt says so right here.

Mr Benson...

l do know what happens next.

What happens next

is the second switch.

The audience gasps as they realise

they have been fooled.

He has plied her with martinis,

white wine, red wine, brandy,

for only one reason.

To make her drunk!

Which incidentally she is not.

Not at all, whatever he thinks.

Now, as he forces one last brandy

to her unwilling lips...

Poor ingenuous girl. Charmed

and serendipitied into believing

she was safe in the hands of

this suntanned handsome American.

Alas, things are not

what they seem. Not at all.

The music turns ominous.

And she becomes aware

of the danger that she is in.

The mysterious stranger. Who is he?

What is he really like?

And why does he keep

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes