The Crying Game Page #8

COL:

She wants to know, sir, do you like your

hair.

FERGUS:

Tell her I'm very happy with it.

DIL:

He's Scottish, Col.

COL:

Scottish?

FERGUS:

Yeah.

DIL:

What'd he say, Col?

39.

COL:

He agreed that he was.

DIL:

What do you think his name is?

COL:

I've no thoughts on the subject.

FERGUS:

Jimmy.

DIL:

Jimmy?

COL:

That's what he said. Jimmy.

DIL:

Hi, Jimmy.

FERGUS:

Hiya, Dil

A burly man sits down beside her. He puts his hand on her

knee.

MAN:

Sing the song, Dil --

She slaps the hand away.

DIL:

F*** off, Dave.

DAVE:

C'mon, babe! You know what I like...

Easy!

She turns back to Fergus and finds his seat empty.

EXT. METRO - NIGHT.

Fergus, standing across the road from the pub. He is

sweating. Dil comes out of the pub. She looks this way and

that, as if searching for Fergus. Fergus stands back into a

shadow.

Dave, the burly man, comes out. He grabs her by the elbow.

She shrugs him off. She walks off. Dave follows, grabs her by

the elbow again. The sense of an old argument. Dave suddenly

strikes her across the face with his open palm.

40.

She leans her head against a wall. Dave then puts his arms

around her, consoles her.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT.

Dave walking, holding Dil by the arm. The street is

dilapidated, full of squats. They stop outside a door. Dil

opens the door with a key from her purse and they both walk

inside.

Fergus stands there, observing.

A light comes on in an upstairs room. Dil enters; we see her

shadow in silhouette behind the curtain and the shadow of

Dave coming in behind her. He begins to remove her blouse.

She stands absolutely still as he does so.

Fergus backs away, then walks off.

INT. HOSTEL - NIGHT.

Fergus, in bed. Fade to black as we see Jody as a bowler,

running in slow motion, toward the camera. He releases the

ball; we see Fergus in bed, breathing heavily.

INT. SITE - NEXT DAY

Fergus takes a break and watches the batsman hit a ball. He

imitates the batsman's motion with his sledgehammer. Then a

voice interrupts him.

DEVEROUX:

So Pat's a cricket fan, eh?

Fergus turns. We see Tristram Deveroux, a young Sloane type

in a three-piece suit, whose house it is. Beside him is

Franknum, the cockney foreman.

FERGUS:

It's not Pat. It's Jim.

DEVEROUX:

Jim, Pat, Mick, what the f***. Long as

you remember you're not at Lords.

Fergus resumes work.

INT. METRO - NIGHT.

It is now crowded with people, black, white, punky and street

chic, a lot of leather All the women are heavily made-up.

Someone is singing from the tiny stage and rows of cheap

colored bulbs are flashing around it.

41.

From the way Fergus walks through, it is obvious he has never

been here at night. He seems most out of place in his cheap

suit, making his way through the crowd to the bar.

AT THE BAR.

Fergus looks through the odd crowd, but can't find Dil. Col,

the barman, sees him and smiles.

COL:

So can we consider you a regular, sir?

FERGUS:

Is that good or bad?

COL:

Well, you get to say, The usual, Col.

Things like that.

Col pushes a colored cocktail with one of those Japanese

umbrellas toward him.

COL:

So let's call this the usual.

FERGUS:

Thanks.

Fergus reaches for his wallet to pay, but Col interrupts.

COL:

No, no. It's on me.

Fergus tries to pretend he's familiar with the drink, and by

implication, whatever are the norms of the place. He lifts

the glass to his mouth, but the umbrella keeps getting in the

way.

COL:

Take it out, if you want.

Fergus takes out the umbrella. He holds it in one hand and

drinks with the other.

COL:

You came to see her, didn't you?

Fergus shrugs. He takes out a cigarette. A guy in leather to

his left smiles at him.

COL:

Something I should tell you. She's --

42.

FERGUS:

She's what?

The barman looks up toward the stage.

COL:

She's on.

THE JUKEBOX.

A hand presses a button. The needle selects a disk. A song by

Dave Berry, "The Crying Game."

AT THE BAR.

Fergus looks up. Close-up of Dil's hand, as music begins,

making movements to the music. We see Dil, standing on a

stage, swaying slightly. She seems a little drunk. She mimes

to the song. She mouths the words so perfectly and the voice

on the song is so feminine that there is no way of knowing

who is doing the singing. She does all sorts of strange

movements, as if she is drawing moonbeams with her hands.

The crowd seems to know this act. They cheer, whether out of

approval or derision we can't be sure.

Fergus watching.

Dil singing, noticing him. She comes to the end of the song.

The crowd cheers.

Fergus, watching her make her way through the crowded bar,

toward him.

DIL:

He's still looking, Col.

COL:

Persistent.

DIL:

Good thing in a man.

COL:

An excellent quality.

DIL:

Maybe he wants something.

COL:

I would expect he does.

43.

DIL:

Ask him.

COL:

Ask him yourself.

She looks at Fergus directly, sits down next to him.

DIL:

So tell me.

Fergus says nothing. He shrugs.

DIL:

Everybody wants something.

FERGUS:

Not me.

DIL:

Not you. How quaint. How old-fashioned

and quaint. Isn't it, Col?

Col shrugs.

DIL:

You old-fashioned?

FERGUS:

Must be.

The burly man comes up to her.

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