The Help

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WILLIAM FAULKNER wrote of Mammy Callie after her death:

"...she gave to my family a fidelity without stint or

calculation or recompense and gave to my childhood an

immeasurable devotion and love".

JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI 1963

INT. AIBILEEN'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT

AIBILEEN, black, 53, sits at a table in a small, green

kitchen. She wears a yellow dress with black piping and

grips a tattered spiral notebook.

Although cracked, the window behind her is crystal clear.

Three framed portraits hang on the wall above her: John F.

Kennedy, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and an UNKNOWN YOUNG

BLACK MALE wearing thick glasses.

Aibileen swallows hard.

AIBILEEN:

I was...born in 1911...on Piedmont

Plantation in Cherokee County.

An UNSEEN WOMAN interviews Aibileen.

WOMAN (O.C.)

Did you know as a girl, growing up,

that one day you'd be a maid?

AIBILEEN:

Yes, ma'am. I did.

WOMAN (O.C.)

And you knew that because?

AIBILEEN:

Momma was a maid. My grandmother

was a house slave.

WOMAN (0.C.)

Oh.

The woman repeats Aibileen's answer slowly as she writes.

WOMAN (O.C.) (CONT'D)

A...House...Slave. Uh-huh. Okay.

Aibileen squeezes the notebook in her lap.

WOMAN (O.C.) (CONT'D)

Now, did you ever dream of being

something else?

Aibileen gulps. She doesn't answer. The room is quiet.

WOMAN (O.C.) (CONT'D)

Well then, what's it feel like, to

raise a white child when your own

child's at home...being looked

after by somebody else?

2.

Aibileen's hand trembles as she sips from a glass of water.

She glances sadly up to the picture of the young black male.

FADE TO BLACK:

AIBILEEN (V.O.)

I done raised seventeen kids in my

life. Lookin' after white babies,

that's what I do.

INT. LEEFOLT HOME - MAE MOBLEY'S ROOM - MORNING

MAE MOBLEY LEEFOLT, 2 1/2 years old, lies in a crib, crying.

AIBILEEN enters. Her dark black skin contrasts angelically

with a brilliant white work dress, white panty hose and shoes

AIBILEEN (V.O.)

I know how to get them babies

asleep, stop cryin' and go in the

toilet bowl before they mommas even

get outta bed in the mornin.'

Aibileen lifts Mae Mobley out of her crib and pulls her into

her expansive bosom.

AIBILEEN (V.O.) (CONT'D)

Babies like fat. They like big fat

legs too. That I know.

Aibileen sits with Mae Mobley in a rocking chair.

AIBILEEN (V.O) (CONT'D)

I work from eight to four, six days

a week. Ninety-five cents an hour

comes to a hundred seventy-two

dollars ever month. I do all the

cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing

and grocery shopping, but mostly, I

take care a baby girl...And law, I

worry she gone be fat. Ain't gonna

be no beauty queen either.

Mae Mobley reaches up and touches Aibileen's face. Aibileen

kisses her and whispers in her ear.

AIBILEEN (CONT'D)

You is kind. You is smart. You is

important.

Mae Mobley's mother, ELIZABETH LEEFOLT, 21 and lanky, enters

wearing a green dress very much under construction. Pins and

double-stick tape hold it all together.

Elizabeth has pointed features and a nest of teased, brittle

hair.

ELIZABETH:

Aibileen, bridge club's in an hour!

Did you finish the chicken salad?

3.

ELIZABETH (CONT'D)

Oh, and Hilly's deviled eggs. No

paprika!

Elizabeth rotates around like the Tin Man.

ELIZABETH (CONT'D)

Does this dress look homemade?

AIBILEEN:

I reckon when you finish, it won't.

Elizabeth exits with her pinned hemline sloping at a good

twenty degree angle. Aibileen shakes her head.

AIBILEEN (V.O.) (CONT'D)

Miss Leefolt still don't pick Baby

Girl up but once a day. The

birthin' blues had got holt a Miss

Leefolt pretty hard. I done seen it

happen plenty a times...once babies

start havin' they own babies. And

the young white ladies of

Jackson...Oh, law, they was havin'

some babies.

INT. JACKSON JOURNAL NEWSPAPAER - OFFICE - SAME DAY

A smoking RECEPTIONIST, 50, leads EUGENIA "SKEETER" PHELAN,

23, across a smoke-filled news office. Even the light bulbs

have yellowed.

AIBILEEN (V.O.)

But, not Miss Skeeter...

Skeeter has very frizzy blond hair cut short above her

shoulders. She carries a red satchel.

AIBILEEN (V.O.) (CONT'D)

No babies...No man...And not

lookin'.

She wears flats, careful not to add more than a centimeter to

her towering height. Dressed well, Skeeter tugs on her

unfamiliar attire.

INT. MR. BLACKLY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

The receptionist and Skeeter enter the office of MR. HAROLD

BLACKLY, 68. He has greased, grey hair and the face of a

mean man. Smoke pours into the room.

MR. BLACKLY

Shut the Goddamn door!

He snaps his fingers over a chair. Skeeter sits down.

MR. BLACKLY (CONT'D)

They announced last week

cigarettes'll kill you.

4.

Mr. Blackly pours a pack of nuts into his mouth.

MR. BLACKLY (CONT'D)

(CHEWING)

Okay, let's see what you got.

Skeeter quickly hands Mr. Blackly a resumé. He skims it

over, marking it violently with a red pen.

MR. BLACKLY (CONT'D)

"Murrah High Editor, Ole Miss Rebel

Rouser Editor, double major, Junior

League editor...Damn girl, didn't

you have any fun?

SKEETER:

Is that...important?

Mr. Blackly sighs, hands the resumé back to Skeeter.

MR. BLACKLY

You got any references?

Skeeter nods slowly. She takes a deep breath and pulls a

letter out of her satchel. She hands it to Mr. Blackly.

Mr. Blackly snatches the letter and reads it quickly,

mouthing the words as he does. He drops the letter on his

desk, and looks to Skeeter, flabbergasted.

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