Rushmore Page #13

Margaret turns away sadly and walks off down the sidewalk.

Max and Mr. Fischer sit in front of the TV having TV

Thanksgiving dinners as they watch a football game. Mr.

Fischer looks at Max. Max stares at the television set.

TITLE:

December.

INT. BARBERSHOP. EVENING

There is a wreath on the door and some blinking lights are

strung-up. The last customer of the day comes out and walks

away through the snow. Mr. Fischer is putting on his sweater

while Max washes some combs and scissors in the sink.

MR. FISCHER

It's been nice having your company here at the shop, Max.

Max nods.

MR. FISCHER

Have you put anymore thought into giving school another

shot?

Max shakes his head. Mr. Fischer puts on a hunting cap with

earflaps and a down parka. He zips it up. Pause.

MR. FISCHER

Max, I like being a barber. I'm good at it and I enjoy it.

But I always thought you'd try a different line of work.

MAX:

Like what?

MR. FISCHER

I don't know. You talked about being a diplomat. Or a

senator.

MAX:

Pipe dreams Dad. Nothing but pipe dreams. I'm a barber's

son.

Max turns on the radio and goes back into washing the combs

and scissors. Mr. Fischer sighs. He puts on his gloves. He

goes out the door.

Max flips the sign on the door from open to closed. He takes

off his barber's jacket and hangs it on the coatrack. He

goes into the back room.

He comes back into the room carrying a broom. He stops.

Dirk is sitting in one of the barber's chairs across the

room. Silence. Max starts sweeping the floor.

MAX:

(not looking at him)

Hello, Dirk.

DIRK:

Hi, Max.

MAX:

What can I do for you?

DIRK:

I thought I might get a haircut.

MAX:

We're closed.

Dirk nods. Max keeps sweeping.

DIRK:

Well, I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry I threw rocks at

you the other day.

(getting up) But I guess I'll go now.

Dirk sets a little gift-wrapped present on the counter.

DIRK:

Merry Christmas.

MAX:

Max stops sweeping and looks over at Dirk.

MAX:

What in the hell is that?

Dirk shrugs. Max goes over to the counter and picks up the

present. He unwraps it. It is a Swiss Army Knife with an

inscription on it.

INSERT SWISS ARMY KNIFE:

Max Fischer

Rushmore Yankee

1985-1997

Max looks at the knife for a minute. He says wearily:

MAX:

OK. Sit down.

Dirk sits back down in the barber's chair. Max puts his

white jacket back on and starts giving Dirk a haircut. There

is just a sound of scissors snipping for a minute.

DIRK:

Have you heard the news?

MAX:

I doubt it. I don't really follow the news anymore.

DIRK:

Dr. Guggenheim had a stroke.

MAX:

I'll send him a box of candy.

DIRK:

Maybe you ought to go visit him.

Max stops snipping. Pause.

MAX:

No, thanks.

Max starts snipping again.

EXT. BARBERSHOP. EVENING

Dirk comes out of the barbershop in a terrible haircut. He

waves to Max and rides off in his three-speed.

INT. BARBERSHOP. EVENING

Max waves back to Dirk. He reaches into the cooler and takes

out a bottle of Schlitz. He pops it open with the bottle

opener on the Swiss Army Knife. He drinks a sip and looks

out into the lightly falling snow. He says quietly to

himself:

MAX:

I always thought I'd be the one to give him a stroke.

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM. NIGHT

Dr. Guggenheim is in his hospital bed with his eyes

half-shut and a bunch of plastic tubes sticking out of him.

Mrs. Guggenheim sits in a chair at the foot of the bed

reading a biography on Churchill. She looks exhausted.

Max appears in the open doorway. He has a bouquet of violets

in his hand. He knocks.

MAX:

Mrs. Guggenheim?

Mrs. Guggenheim looks up. Her face brightens and she goes to

greet Max.

MRS. GUGGENHEIM

Hello, Max. How are you?

MAX:

(desolate)

Fine, thanks.

Max starts to shake hands, but Mrs. Guggenheim hugs him and

kisses him on the cheek. Max is caught a little offguard by

this. There is lipstick on his cheek.

MRS. GUGGENHEIM

These are glorious. Let me put them in some water. Sit down.

She takes the flowers and points to a chair beside the bed.

Max sits down and stares at Dr. Guggenheim while Mrs.

Guggenheim puts the violets in a vase.

MAX:

Should I say hello to Dr. Guggenheim? Or can he not hear

anything?

MRS. GUGGENHEIM

Oh, no. He can hear you.

MAX:

OK.

(sadly)

Hello, old timer. It's Max Fischer. I was just thing about

you the other day. And Rushmore. And I -

Dr. Guggenheim's eyes suddenly open. Max is taken aback. Dr.

Guggenheim looks at Max suspiciously and whispers:

DR. GUGGENHEIM

What do you want?

Mrs. Guggenheim looks up quickly. Max hesitates.

MAX:

I just came to pay my respects.

DR. GUGGENHEIM

(frowns) No, you didn't. You don't respect anybody.

Dr. Guggenheim tries to spit at Max, but his mouth is too

dry. Mrs. Guggenheim comes over to him.

MRS. GUGGENHEIM

Nelson?

Dr. Guggenheim mutters deliriously.

DR. GUGGENHEIM

Dammit. Goddammit.

Mrs. Guggenheim takes Dr. Guggenheim's hand and holds it. He

calms down. His eyes close and he relaxes. Silence.

Mrs. Guggenheim looks to Max.

MRS. GUGGENHEIM

That's the first thing he's said in ten days.

MAX:

You think he recognized me?

MRS. GUGGENHEIM

I'm not sure.

CUT TO:

Dirk hidden in the bushes across the street from the

hospital. He checks his watch. He raises his binoculars to

his eyes and looks on mysteriously as:

Mr. Blume pulls into the parking lot in his Bentley.

INSERT NOTEBOOK:

5:
25 Fischer arrives via old woman's bicycle.

5:
47 Blume arrives via black Bentley.

INT. ELEVATOR. NIGHT

Max rides down in the elevator with a NURSE and a wheezing

OLD WOMAN in a wheelchair. The doors open in the lobby and

Max waits while the nurse wheels out the old woman.

Then he sees Mr. Blume in front of him, waiting for the

elevator. He has a bouquet of carnations in one hand and a

diet Coke in the other. He has a black eye under his

sunglasses. He is very disheveled.

MR. BLUME

Hey, amigo.

MAX:

You look horrible.

MR. BLUME

You don't look too great yourself. Good to see you.

MAX:

You here to see Guggenheim?

MR. BLUME

Yeah. Your partner told me he was under the weather.

MAX:

(frowns) What partner?

Silence. Mr. Blume shrugs.

MR. BLUME

OK. If you want to play it that way. You getting off?

MAX:

I'll ride up with you.

MR. BLUME

(getting on) Suit yourself.

Mr. Blume presses the button for the 14th floor. The doors

close and they go up. Mr. Blume takes out the little airline

bottle of vodka and pours some into his diet Coke. He swirls

it around and drinks a sip.

MAX:

Who gave you the shiner?

MR. BLUME

Honestly? I don't actually know. It was either Ronny or

Donny. But I can't tell the difference anymore.

MAX:

Well, he really clocked you.

MR. BLUME

Yeah? Well, kids don't like their parents to get divorced.

MAX:

I don't blame them.

MR. BLUME

Me, either.

Silence.

MAX:

How is she?

MR. BLUME

I wouldn't know.

MAX:

Why not?

MR. BLUME

Because I haven't seen her in six weeks.

MAX:

(frowns) What happened?

Mr. Blume shrugs.

MAX:

She left you?

Mr. Blume nods.

MAX:

How come? I thought she loved you.

MR. BLUME

So did I. I guess maybe I am too old for her after all.

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