The Ice Storm

EXT. TRAIN - DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN

Suburban Connecticut, outside of New York City, 1973. The

still after a terrible storm. Trees dripping, their branches

torn, the air warming just before the break of a new day. The

train lies dark and motionless, a few flashing yellow

emergency lights up front, as a work crew removes debris from

the track.

INT. TRAIN. PRE-DAWN

Various passengers, huddled uncomfortably, cold, asleep.

On Paul Hood, 15-and-a-half, stoner-preppie look, hunched up

in his seat under the faint emergency exit light. He reads

his Fantastic Four comic book by the pale light of the

emergency exit sign.

Suddenly, the lights begin to flicker on and the hum of the

train's engines returns.

The conductor enters the car, blasting forth in his classic

nasal voice.

CONDUCTOR:

Good morning ladies and gentlemen --

He sounds like a baseball announcer.

PASSENGERS:

(mumbling, ad lib)

What ladies?

CONDUCTOR:

-- this train originating at New

York's Grand Central Station is

back in service - next stop will be

New Canaan, Connecticut. New

Canaan, Connecticut, next stop!

He moves on to the next car.

The train begins to move.

Paul rubs his elbow against the window and looks out into the

still-dark early morning.

He looks back down at his comic book.

On the comic book: Reed Richards (also known as Stretch) has

zapped his young son with a cosmic ray gun to neutralize the

destructive energy that Annihilus has implanted in him.

The Thing, Medusa, Flame, and Richards' wife Sue Storm look

on, stunned.

"THEN YOU'VE TURNED HIM INTO A

VEGETABLE. YOUR OWN SON." "DON'T

YOU SEE, SUE? HE WAS TOO

POWERFUL... IF HIS ENERGY HAD

CONTINUED TO BUILD, HE WOULD HAVE

DESTROYED THE WQRLD!"

Paul looks up again, thinking.

PAUL (V.O.)

In issue number 141 of The

Fantastic Four, published in

November 1973, Reed Richards has to

use his anti-matter weapon on his

own son, who Annihilus has turned

into a human atom bomb. His son is

the result of Richards' coupling

with the earthling Sue Storm, and

the problem is that the cosmic rays

that infused Richards and the rest

of the Fantastic Four on their

aborted moon mission have made

young Franklin a volatile mixture

of matter and anti-matter.

EXT. TRAIN BRIDGE. PRE-DAWN

The train moves slowly through a suburban, semi-forested

landscape.

PAUL (V.O.)

And that's what it is to come from

a family, if you analyze it

closely. Each of them is negative

matter for the other ones. And

that's what dying is -- dying is

when your family, which is in fact

your personal negative matter from

which you emerge -- it's when the

family takes you back, thus hurling

you back into negative space...

INT. TRAIN. CONT'D.

On Paul, as the sun breaks over the horizon. His face glows

warmly in the yellow light. He looks down idly at the comic

book.

PAUL (V.O.)

So it's a paradox -- the closer

you're drawn back in, the further

into the void you're thrown.

EXT. CONRAIL STATION. EARLY MORNING

The train slowly pulls in.

The train doors open, and Paul, weary from the long night,

emerges. He sees his family gathered at the other end of the

platform -- Ben, 40, a bit worse for wear but still retaining

traces of his boyish looks; Elena, 37, distant and elegant

even in her oversized sweater; and Wendy, 14, a sullen

suburban Lolita.

He pauses, regarding them.

They stand, silent, even dignified, awaiting him.

EXT. ST. PETER'S SCHOOL. MORNING

To establish. A typical New England prep school.

INT. PAUL AND FRANCIS'S DORM ROOM. MORNING

Cramped, a mess, but quaint. Paul shares the room with

Francis Davenport IV, a dissolute, smart-ass son of money.

Paul's alarm clock rings. He slams his hand down on it and

jumps out of bed, fully clothed in his rumpled preppie

uniform of frayed khakis, loose tie, shirt with one tail

untucked in, etc. Across the room, Francis beckons from his

desk, as he finishes loading up a four-foot-high bong.

FRANCIS:

Arise and shine, young Hood.

PAUL:

I hope you changed the water in

that bong from last night.

FRANCIS:

(finishing a hit)

The water, as you call it, is a

special mixture of amaretto and

Ben&Ben blended for just the exact

chemical interaction with the last

of our precious Thai stick.

Paul reluctantly walks over and takes a hit. He coughs,

spewing uninhaled smoke.

FRANCIS (CONT'D)

Waste not Master Hood -- that was

$20 for the bag.

PAUL:

(gathering books, papers,

almost talking to

himself)

Man, Francis, you are one drug

addled elitist freak, and when the

revolution comes I do not want to

be lined up with you and shot,

'cause you're f***ing ripe for

political reeducation, you know,

like in the fields.

FRANCIS:

Paul, cancel your mental

appointments, baby. What are you,

like still stoned from last night?

PAUL:

(spraying some chloroform

mouth spray)

I gotta get to English class.

INT. ST PETERS' CLASSROOM. DAY

An English class in progress.

Paul Hood sits blankly, hardly listening, until he hears the

teacher call out.

TEACHER:

Libbets?

LIBBETS:

What Dostoyevsky is saying here is

that to be a Christian is to

choose, because you have to choose

of your own choice, but since you

can't choose to be good because

that would be too rational you have

to choose to be bad -- it's

existential.

TEACHER:

Thank you Libbets, that's a very

compelling summary, but --

Paul looks at her, smitten. Marge, Paul's friend, notices his

look.

INT. ST. PETER'S HALLWAY. DAY

As class lets out, Paul accosts Libbets.

PAUL:

Um, Libbets. Hey, Dostoyevsky, I'm

also really a fan, and what you

were saying, you know, have you

ever read The Idiot?

LIBBETS:

The Idiot?

PAUL:

If you liked Notes from

Underground, you'll love The Idiot.

LIBBETS:

(turning to go)

Great, thanks for the tip.

PAUL:

(after her)

The Idiot.

INT. ST. PETER'S HALLWAY. DAY

Paul walks with Marge.

PAUL:

I'm in love with Libbets Casey.

MARGE:

Yeah, well, you've been in love

with like every other girl here, I

was wondering when you'd get around

to Libbets.

PAUL:

It's beyond mere physical

attraction.

MARGE:

That's good, because I don't think

Libbets is capable of the sex act.

PAUL:

Truly? Do speak.

MARGE:

My diagnosis is messed in the head.

A poor little rich girl -- I mean

check out the jeans and fur look.

And lend your ears to this

brutality. Like her mom and step

dad and her step-sisters are going

to Switzerland to ski over

Thanksgiving break -- and like they

didn't invite her!

PAUL:

How do you know this sh*t?

MARGE:

They did it last year too. It's

like traditional or something.

They've got this humongoid Park Ave

apartment and she just holes up

there with a wad of cash.

(beat)

Aren't the hugely wealthy sad?

PAUL:

(pause)

You think Francis is going to beat

me to the punch here?

MARGE:

Since he sleeps with every girl you

ever show an interest in, why don't

you just keep your Libbets thing a

secret from him?

PAUL:

Good thinking Marge.

INT. SCHOOL PARTY. NIGHT

Paul, Francis and friends enter the dark, crowded room.

Various kids are awkwardly dancing to some progressive fm

style undanceable rock (Jethro Tull, etc.) Francis hands Paul

the tail end of a joint, but Paul waves it away.

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