The Crying Game Page #7

TOMMY:

Do you now.

FERGUS:

Need to lose myself awhile.

TOMMY:

Aha.

He looks at Fergus and lights a cigarette.

He puffs.

TOMMY:

There's a man I know ships cattle to

London.

EXT. DUBLIN BAY - EVENING.

The ferry, churning into the sunset.

FADE TO BLACK.

INT. BUILDING SITE - DAY

FADE UP into an elegant, empty Georgian room, covered in

clouds of dust. A figure among the clouds of dust, hacking at

a wall with a sledgehammer. It is Fergus, dressed in

laborer's overalls, covered in dust. He is knocking the

bricks from an outer wall. He works furiously and

relentlessly, like a machine.

We see the wall, with the hammer striking it. One brick falls

away, then another. Daylight pours through the clouds of dust

and the growing hole.

34.

Fergus's face, as he works.

The hole. More bricks falling away. Through the clouds of

dust and the streams of daylight we now see a patch of green.

Fergus's face, working. His rhythm slows.

The hole. More bricks fall away. Then the hammer stops. The

dust begins to clear.

His face.

The jagged hole. The dust drifts across it, revealing a

cricket pitch, with tiny sticklike figures running on the

green.

EXT. HOSTEL - DAY

Fergus, returning from work, crosses the street, and enters

through a white door.

INT. HOSTEL - DAY

Fergus dressing. He puts on a cheap suit, like any country

boy in a big city. He takes Jody's wallet from the trousers

of his overalls. He flips it open, sees the picture of the

soldier and Dil. He puts it in the pocket of his suit.

EXT. STREET - DAY

Fergus walking down a street looking for an address. Some

distance down the street is a sign -- MILLIE'S UNISEX HAIR

SALON.

EXT. STREET - DAY

Fergus, standing as the crowds go by him, looking in the

window. He has the picture in his hand. We see Dil from his

point of view, then Fergus walks inside.

INT. HAIR SALON - DAY

Fergus enters. The door gives a loud ping.

A GIRL:

We're closing. I'll see you tomorrow, Dil

She leaves the salon.

DIL:

You want something in particular?

35.

FERGUS:

Just a bit of a trim...

Dil checks her watch and stubs out a cigarette.

DIL:

Come on...

She gestures toward a chair. Fergus sits down. She comes

toward him and fiddles with his hair.

She pushes his head back into a basin behind him. She begins

to knead his hair in hot water and shampoo.

DIL:

Someone recommend you?

FERGUS:

In a way.

DIL:

Who?

FERGUS:

Guy I work with.

DIL:

What's his name?

Fergus can't think of an answer. The hands with the purple

nails run over his scalp.

FERGUS:

Doesn't the water get to your nails?

DIL:

What's it to you?

FERGUS:

Nothing.

Fergus, sitting up. She begins to cut.

DIL:

You American?

FERGUS:

No.

DIL:

Not English.

36.

FERGUS:

No.

DIL:

Scottish?

FERGUS:

How'd you guess?

DIL:

The accent, I suppose.

FERGUS:

And what's it like?

DIL:

Like treacle.

She imitates his accent saying it. Fergus laughs.

DIL:

Nice laugh.

Dil raises Fergus's head up, with his new-cut hair and holds

a mirror up behind his head so he can see the back. He looks

like a young London stockbroker. The hair salon around them

is empty.

DIL:

That should make her happy.

FERGUS:

Who's she?

DIL:

Don't know. Who is she?

EXT. HAIR SALON - EVENING.

Fergus emerges from the shop. He takes one last look through

the window where Dil is taking off her smock, touching up her

hair, etc. It is as if she has forgotten all about him. He

walks off through the crowds and then ducks into a doorway.

The doorway of the shop. Dil comes out, dressed in a pair of

high heels, a very short skirt, different, more raunchy

clothes on her than we saw inside. She locks the glass door

and walks down the street, across the road, and into a pub

called the Metro. Fergus follows.

37.

INT. METRO - EVENING.

Half full, with an after-work crowd. Dil makes her way

through it.

BARMAN:

Hi, Dil

DIL:

Hiya, hon.

She sits down at the bar. Fergus comes toward the bar and

takes a seat.

BARMAN:

What'll it be?

FERGUS:

A bottle of Guinness.

Dil, looking at Fergus.

DIL:

See that, Col?

COL:

See what, Dil?

DIL:

He gave me a look.

COL:

Did he?

Fergus blushes. He buries himself in his drink.

DIL:

Just cut his hair, you know.

COL:

Yeah?

DIL:

What you think?

COL:

Nice.

Fergus throws his eyes toward her again. She has her face

turned away, but sees him in the mirror.

DIL:

There, he did it again.

38.

COL:

Saw that one.

DIL:

What would you call it?

COL:

Now, that was a look.

She eyes Fergus in the mirror.

DIL:

Ask him to ask me what I'm drinking.

The barman, with infinite weariness, approaches Fergus.

COL:

She wants to know do you want to know

what she's drinking.

Fergus is about to talk when she pipes up.

DIL:

A margarita.

The barman mixes it. She stares at the mirror, staring at

Fergus, who is trying to avoid her eyes. The barman hands her

the drink.

DIL:

Now he can look.... Ask him does he like

his hair, Col.

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