Pleasantville Page #17

DAVID:

(inhaling)

Mmmmgh.

MARGARET:

Do they have those ... Where you come

from?

DAVID:

Yeah ... I guess.

(beat)

I don't know.

MARGARET:

You don't know?

Margaret laughs like that isn't even possible. She shifts on

the grass hiking her skirt up above the knee. It reveals a

long tan leg beneath it. David watches as she kicks off her

shoes, rubbing her feet through the long cool grass.

MARGARET (CONT)

So what's it like?

DAVID:

What?

MARGARET:

(a whisper)

Out there.

She clings onto the words like they could transport her by

themselves. David thinks for a moment.

DAVID:

Oh. don't know ... It's different.

She leans forward.

MARGARET:

How?

DAVID:

Well it's louder ... And scarier I

guess ... And ... and a lot more

dangerous ...

MARGARET:

Sounds fantastic. You know some kids

came up here the other night to go

swimming--took off all their clothes.

She giggles. David looks at her in amazement.

MARGARET (CONT)

Do they have an Ocean? I've heard

about the ocean.

DAVID:

Yeah.

MARGARET:

What's that like?

DAVID:

Well it's big. And it's blue ...

(as if realizing it for the first time)

... It's really really blue.

MARGARET:

Mmmm.

(beat)

Boy. It's hot up here.

Suddenly and without warning Margaret unbuttons her cardigan

sweater. She slips it off, arching her back like the

figurehead of a ship and David just stares at her breasts.

She wears a light cotton blouse and even in the moonlight it

forms a translucent silhouette ... She lays the sweater

across the grass and leans back on it.

MARGARET (CONT)

You want some berries?

DAVID:

Hunh?

She unfolds a handkerchief revealing a handful of berries in

REDS AND BLUES AND PURPLES.

MARGARET:

I picked them myself. They grow wild

up here.

(eating one)

Mmm. So sweet.

DAVID:

(looking at them)

They just grow like that?

MARGARET:

(looking straight up)

Oh yeah. There's a lot of stuff.

Currants and strawberries ... Here.

I'll show you.

She hops up and scampers across the grassy bank, kicking her

heels behind her. Margaret reaches a tree in the distance and

reaches toward an upper limb, stretching out her body like a

piece of statuary. She picks a piece of fruit and scampers

back toward him, hiking up her skirt as she goes ...

MARGARET (CONT)

Here.

CLOSER.

Margaret sticks out her hand, offering him a BRIGHT RED

APPLE. It's brilliant and shiny and glistens in the

moonlight.

ANGLE. DAVID.

He hesitates just looking at it. Margaret speaks in a

whisper.

MARGARET:

Go on. Try it.

HIS POV.

She is lying on her stomach now, and behind the outstretched

apple he can see an ample view of her cleavage. Margaret is

smiling at him as the apple shines in the foreground. David

reaches out and takes it.

WIDER. DAVID AND MARGARET.

For this instant, they seem alone in the garden. He looks

down at it, then glances over at Margaret. David hesitates

for a split second then takes a bite of the apple ...

CUT TO:

EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT.

George heads home with his briefcase in hand whistling a

happy tune. He smiles at Mr. Simpson and swings the attache

case as he turns and heads up his front walk.

INT. FOYER.

George opens the door and sets the briefcase by the stairs

like he always does. He hangs his hat on the hatrack, his

coat on the coatrack, and beams as he hollers his nightly

greeting:

GEORGE:

Honey--I'm home.

There is no response. He looks a little perplexed but smiles

as he calls out again:

GEORGE (CONT)

Honey--I'm home ...

There is more silence. George looks around a little confused

when there is a BOOMING CLAP OF THUNDER ...

CUT TO:

INT. SODA SHOP. NIGHT.

Betty sits in a comer of the shop, next to the gray bowl of

fruit. She holds her head to the side, sitting gracefully

with her chin in the air. Mr. Johnson sits behind his easel,

painting her portrait from a few feet away. Betty looks

radiant with no trace of the makeup, the warm PINK OF HER

FLESH TONES lit softly by a bare forty watt bulb ...

CLOSER.

She looks over at Mr. Johnson when they hear the BOOMING CLAP

OF THUNDER. Each of them freezes. There is ANOTHER, LOUDER

BOOM ...

ANGLE. WINDOW.

The "Cubist Snowscene" lights up brightly, illuminated by the

sudden flash of lightning behind it. Betty leaps up from the

chair and crosses to the window looking out.

BETTY:

(frightened)

What is that?

MR. JOHNSON

I don't know.

Betty looks back at Mr. Johnson and suddenly sees the

painting. She flinches for a second. Her eyes go wide.

REVERSE ANGLE. INCLUDING THE PAINTING.

It is Cubist (like the rest of his recent work) but that

isn't the shocking part. Even though she sits in front of him

fully clothed, Mr. Johnson has painted a beautiful, sensual

nude. Betty just stares at the canvas, stunned to see herself

revealed like that. The COLORS are all hot pinks and oranges

and yellows--like some Fauvist celebration of summertime.

There is another even LOUDER PEEL OF THUNDER.

WIDER. BETTY AND MR. JOHNSON.

She looks over at Mr. Johnson and he glances down. After a

moment or two he looks back at her, but she doesn't turn to

run. Betty just stares at him, then without even realizing

it, moves slightly closer.

CUT TO:

EXT. LOVER'S LANE. NIGHT.

David and Margaret are locked in a deep passionate kiss. At

first they don't separate when they hear the BOOMING CLAP OF

THUNDER. It is only when they hear the SECOND ONE and the

RAIN starts to fall, that Margaret pulls back and looks up in

the sky.

MARGARET:

What is that?

ANGLE. DAVID.

He is still in an amorous daze and doesn't even feel the

increasing rain. It starts to pound harder and Margaret looks

to him in terror.

MARGARET:

What's going on?

DAVID:

Rain.

MARGARET:

Real rain?

DAVID:

Yeah ... You don't have rain either?

She looks at him frightened. David smiles.

DAVID (CONT)

Right. Of course you don't ...

He puts his jacket around her and starts to lead her up the

grassy slope. A dozen other couples go scurrying up the bank,

looking in terror at the water falling from the sky.

MARGARET:

What do we do?

DAVID:

(reaching the car)

We'll just put up the top.

He goes fishing around the boot of the car, looking for the

catch to release it. David leans into the back seat fishing

around as the rain starts to pound harder.

MARGARET:

What top?

He looks back at her. No top either. David smiles, drenched

in rain and puts his arm around Margaret who is starting to

shiver.

DAVID:

It's fine. Come on.

He leads her back to a thicket of bushes where several of the

kids are clustered together. They look at one another,

terrified, as they huddle for shelter beneath the ledge of an

overhanging rock.

DAVID (CONT)

It's alright. There's nothing to be

afraid of.

They look a little reassured and Margaret looks up at him

positively adoringly. She clings to his shoulder as the storm

howls a few feet away ...

CUT TO:

INT. JENNIFER'S ROOM. NIGHT.

She stands at the window looking out at the driving rain.

Jennifer still holds the D.H. Lawrence book in her hand.

There is a huge flash of lightning and another clap of

thunder.

JENNIFER:

Cool ...

She flops back down on the bed and continues to read ...

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