Philadelphia Page #4

SEIDMAN:

Andy, do you know who reps Kronos

Inc.?

ANDREW:

Bailey, Brackman.

WHEELER:

Get with the program, Andy. As

of this evening, about 8:05 this

evening, right after the soup

course... Kronos Incorporated is

represented by Wyant Wheeler

Hellerman Tetlow and Brown. Or,

more specifically, senior

associate Andrew Beckett.

A moment before it sinks in, then: Andrew clenches his fist

in a victory salute.

ANDREW:

Yes!

SEIDMAN:

You'll have to get right on it,

Andy, we're up against the

statute of limitations.

An ASSOCIATE LAWYER in shirtsleeves taps on the office door.

ASSOCIATE LAWYER

Tokyo on four, Bob.

SEIDMAN:

Great. Excuse me, fellas.

(picking up a phone,

speaking Japanese)

Connichiwa. Itsumo osewa ni nari

mashita. Arigato gozaimasu.

Andrew offers his hand to Walter Kenton.

ANDREW:

Thanks, Walter.

KENTON:

What's that on your forehead,

pal?

ANDREW:

Whacked with a racquetball.

(taking Wheeler's hand)

I appreciate your faith in my

abilities.

WHEELER:

Faith, Andy, is the belief in

something for which we have no

evidence. It doesn't apply to

this situation.

(slapping his shoulder)

Go home. I mean, get back to

work.

Andrew and Wheeler are eye-to-eye, an intimate moment.

ANDREW:

(warmly, softly)

Thanks, Charles.

WHEELER:

(with a father's

affection)

No sweat, buddy.

Smiling, Andrew exits the office.

CLOSE ON WALTER KENTON, THINKING...

CONTINUOUS CUT TO:

ANDREW STEPPING INTO THE EMPTY CORRIDOR, TAKING A FEW STEPS

away from Wheeler's office (INT./NIGHT), then...

... DOING a JOYFUL END ZONE DANCE, running in place the way

football players do when then score a touch down, saying

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" to himself, soundlessly.

The SOUND OF CLANGING METAL interrupts Andrew: HELENA, a

maintenance worker is emptying a trash can. She's seen his

little dance and starts to laugh.

Smiling, Andrew puts the unlit cigar into his mouth, WINKS

at Helena and says:

ANDREW:

(in a funny, kind of

medieval way)

It's good to be King.

CUT TO:

ESTABLISHING:
ANDREW'S LOFT BUILDING (EXT. DAY)

TITLE:
"Ten days later."

CUT TO:

CLOSE ON ANDREW'S FACE MARKED WITH FOUR BLOTCHES (WE'RE IN

Andrew's loft -- INT./DAY)

It's a mirror image. The BLOTCHES vary from the size of a

dime, to the size of a half-dollar. He looks awful.

A YOUNG, BLACK WOMAN'S FINGER applies makeup to Andrew's

face, trying to cover the blotches. This is his friend

CHANDRA.

CHANDRA (O.S.)

You want to apply the foundation

as evenly as you can, Andy. You

don't want to look like you've

thrown it on with a spoon.

ANDREW (O.S.)

Uh huh.

CAMERA PULLS BACK REVEALING Andrew sitting at a table in his

loft, a towel around his neck, protecting his shirt from makeup.

Chandra applies the makeup gently, supervised by another friend

named ALAN. (Andrew's loft has been turned into a lawyer's

command post:
stacks of books, documents, etc.). A third friend,

BRUNO, sits in the corner, flipping through channels on the TV.

CHANDRA:

Okay. You try.

Andrew tries applying makeup to his face.

ANDREW:

Chandra? Don't you think this

color's a little... orange for me?

CHANDRA:

Tahitian Bronze works best on

lesions.

ALAN:

Think of it as the "I just back

from Aruba" look.

IN THE BACKGROUND: Andrew's fax machine receives a fax in

Andrew's "work area": desk, personal computer, etc.).

BRUNO:

I got it.

Bruno removes the fax from the machine, walking it over to

Andrew, handing Andrew the fax, while munching an apple.

ANDREW:

(giving the fax

a quick scan)

Thanks, Bruno.

(to Alan and Chandra)

I've been out of the office four

days. I don't want them to

think I've been to the beach.

(searching for something)

Okay. Check this out.

Andrew puts on a pair of big glasses with tortoise shell

frames, meant to help conceal the blotches.

ANDREW (CONT.)

Hides everything, right? What

do you think?

CHANDRA:

You know who you look like,

Andy? That actor, in that

movie. Not the one where he was

autistic, the one where he

dressed up like a lady on a soap

opera...

ALAN:

Dustin Hoffman.

ANDREW:

(horrified)

Tootsie!

BRUNO:

Right.

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