The Ice Storm Page #2

PAUL:

No more man. I'm about to drop as

it is.

FRANCIS:

See ya.

PAUL:

Where you going?

FRANCIS:

Paul, let me enlighten you about

something.

You and I exist on two opposite

sides of a great existential

divide, that being your pathetic

virginity on the one hand and my

astonishing number of sexual

conquests on the other. I'm off to

get laid. See you.

PAUL:

Flame on, a**hole.

FRANCIS:

And remember, with your erogenous

zones lubricated as such with the

mighty herb, do not attempt

terrestrial contact with members of

the opposite sex -- because you

drone on like a motherf***er when

you're stoned.

He waves his fingers toward Paul's eyes, in the classic

"stoned" gesture, then wanders off.

Paul looks on at the gathering. Marge waves to him from the

dance floor.

LATER:

INT. SCHOOL PARTY. CONT'D

Paul wanders, stoned, through the party. He sees Libbets from

across the room. She seems to be surrounded by friends.

INT. PARTY. CONT'D

Paul has cornered Libbets and is talking over the music.

There are just a few people left, most of them making out

with each other.

PAUL:

(stoned)

-- because I've been reading

Kerouac and Ginsberg and those guys

were creating beat culture and

traveling and sleeping wherever,

and, of course, with all kinds of

people, but when you read carefully

the various contemporary accounts

of their lives, and, uh, these guys

didn't bathe much, I mean they were

really filthy, with like genital

crabs, lice, exceptionally strong

body odor...

Libbets smiles through her yawn.

EXT. SCHOOL BENCH. NIGHT

Paul sits alone on the bench, freezing cold, eating a donut.

Some kids from across the lawn yell good-night to him.

INT. DORM ROOM. EVENING.

Paul is at his desk. Francis enters, wrapped in a towel,

fresh from the shower.

PAUL:

How can you do that man?

FRANCIS:

Do what?

PAUL:

Sleep all day. I mean, look, it's

already getting dark outside, and

you're just getting up.

FRANCIS:

(beat)

Um, Libbets Casey.

PAUL:

What?

FRANCIS:

Aha! I could sense the vibe.

PAUL:

What do you mean?

FRANCIS:

Am I right or am I right?

PAUL:

Sh*t. You're not planning --

FRANCIS:

My man, I speak to you solely as a

comrade in arms offering

unconditional aid. I've been giving

this one a lot of thought, and I

believe that the two of you

together might just reach that

higher ground that --

A knock at the door.

STUDENT (O.S.)

Hood, telephone.

Paul rolls off his bed, opens the door.

PAUL:

Don't mess with Libbets. I mean it!

INT. DORM HALLWAY. NIGHT

Paul walks to the pay phone at the end of the hall.

PAUL:

Hello?

INTERCUT - HOOD HOUSEHOLD. NIGHT

It's a modern (shag carpet, geometric-patterned wallpaper,

etc.) suburban house.

Ben Hood talks on the phone, a drink in his hand.

BEN:

Paul?

In the background, we can see Wendy watching Richard Nixon on

TV.

PAUL:

Hi dad.

BEN:

Hey guy. Things ok up there? You

all right?

PAUL:

I'm fine dad.

BEN:

Well good. Just confirming. You'll

be on the 3:
50 Wednesday afternoon.

PAUL:

Well dad, actually I thought I'd

take the morning train on

Thanksgiving -- got a lot of

studying, papers, you know, lab

experiments --

BEN:

Lab experiments? Right smart guy --

Paul, you know your mother's gonna

be disappointed not to see more of

you -- In fact, let me make this

more than a simple request guy, I

think you should...

IN THE BACKGROUND:

NIXON:

(on TV, from San Clemente

press conference)

Well, with regard to the questions

as to why Americans feel we were

wrong to make the tapes, that is

not particularly surprising. I

think that most Americans do not

like the idea of taping

conversations and, frankly, it is

not something that particularly

appeals to me...

BEN:

Hold on for a second.

(turning)

Wendy, you want-to say hi to your

brother?

She frowns.

BEN (CONT'D)

Come on!

She gets up sullenly and goes to the phone.

WENDY:

Charles.

PAUL:

Charles. Have you been keeping out

of my sh*t? Have you refrained from

entering the sacred precincts of my

room?

WENDY:

I have not touched your sh--

(looks at father)

Stuff. You watching this?

PAUL:

Watching what?

WENDY:

Nixon, doofus! It's incredible. He

should be shot.

BEN:

(overhearing)

Hey, that's the president of the

goddam United States you're talking

about, Wendy!

From the kitchen, Elena overhears. She's dressed to go out,

but in the process of making a Kraft macaroni and cheese

dinner for Wendy.

WENDY:

He's a liar!

(still talking more to her

father than into the

phone)

Dean told him on March 21st about

Kalmback and Hunt, all about the

payoffs to the Watergate burglars,

so you tell me where the so-called

"Dean Report" is, but you can't

because it doesn't exist, because

he lied about Haldeman and

Erlichman and the April 17 tape,

that's why! Liar!

Ben retreats, going to the wet bar to pour another drink.

BEN:

(muttering)

OK, OK, the defense rests.

(to Elena in the kitchen)

Want another?

ELENA (O.S.)

No thank you. We should be off.

BEN:

Gotcha.

He puts the bottle back down without pouring.

INTERCUT BACK TO PAUL:

PAUL:

(on the phone)

Hey Charles. Charles, calm down --

I wasn't in on it.

Elena, putting on her coat, comes into the den and gives

Wendy a kiss on the forehead as Wendy mumbles her good-byes

to Paul on the phone.

ELENA:

Dinner's on the counter. We'll be

at the Williams's -- you know the

number.

(takes the phone from

Wendy)

Paul. Hi. Is there anything you'll

want, any particular kind of food

or snack or anything we can stock

up on?... You're all right? ... OK.

See you next week. I love you.

Back to Nixon on the TV.

NIXON:

We must recognize that one excess

begets another, and that the

extremes of violence in the 1960s

contributed to the extremes of

Watergate...

On Wendy as she regards the TV, hearing her parents'

farewells as they leave through the front door.

EXT. WILLIAMS HOUSE. NIGHT

A large New England Colonial, with a few modern additions and

touches. We hear the sound of dinner chatter.

INT. WILLIAMS DINING ROOM. NIGHT

The kitchen door swings open into the dining room, and Mikey

and Sandy Williams emerge, each holding platters of food.

Mikey, 15-and-a-half, lost in space, and Sandy, 14, a sullen

and barely pubescent boy, each have towels draped over their

forearms -- they are the evening's "waiters".

They move unsteadily to the table, at which sit their parents

Janey (38, a hard-edged, sharp-witted beauty) and Jim (43,

large and a bit goofy, a genius inventor), together with

their guests, Ben and Elena Hood, and neighbors Dorothy and

Ted Franklin.

We jump cut through the evening's conversations, seen mostly

from the furtive POV's of the boys.

BEN:

His brother came back --

DOROTHY:

From where?

BEN:

Vietnam.

DOROTHY:

Oh. Are we going to talk about

this, about...?

ELENA:

You should hear. It's very sad, he

was --

JUMP CUT:

Janey is whispering something into Mikey's ear, who returns

to the kitchen.

JIM:

It was a benefit for the ACLU or

something, and Harry Reems himself

was there --

DOROTHY:

The man with the -- from Deep

Throat?

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