The Ice Storm Page #4

ELENA:

(without opening her eyes)

You're staring at me.

BEN:

I wasn't star--

ELENA:

I've been thinking, Ben, about

Wendy. I was going to ask if she'd

come with me sometime to meet Dr.

Woolens.

BEN:

That shrink -- the one you always

wanted me to see? I thought you

dropped him.

ELENA:

I did, but -- somebody should

probably see her, talk to her...

You think she's ok?

BEN:

Why shouldn't she be?

Elena just gives him a look, more sad than angry.

BEN (CONT'D)

(pause)

Then again, why should she be? I

mean with us, with our...

ELENA:

So maybe you'll come too?

BEN:

Oh not again Elena! If we've got

problems, why can't you just come

out and talk about them.

ELENA:

It's you Ben who needs to talk.

I've had my say, and I'm waiting to

hear back from you.

BEN:

Yeah but Elena, even you don't

believe all that "I'm OK. You're

OK" stuff you keep babbling about --

you say so yourself. I've been all

ears for about ten years now on his

subject, and --

ELENA:

-- And you haven't moved out yet.

It's because you're too lazy, Ben.

Too scared or lazy to either deal

with us or simply make a decision --

BEN:

Elena.

Silence.

ELENA:

(sighing)

Sleep in the study? Please.

Ben picks up a pillow and walks out, pausing wistfully at the

door.

BEN:

Good night.

ELENA:

Good night.

INT. WENDY'S ROOM. NIGHT

Wendy hears her parents' door close and sees a strip of light

illuminate under her door as the hall light goes on, then

off.

EXT. MANHATTAN OFFICE BUILDING. DAY

A nondescript, cleanly "modern" building. Engraved on the

doors:
"Shackley and Schwimmer, Securities Brokerage -

Established 1964"

INT. SHACKLEY AND SCHWIMMER CONFERENCE ROOM. DAY

Ben, seated, is finishing a brief presentation to a small

group of men, which includes George Clair, mid-thirties,

unctuously handsome.

BEN:

But what, exactly, is stagflation,

this mixture of inflation and

stagnation, and how should we in

the securities industry understand

and accommodate it? Well -- and I

hope I'm not out of bounds here -

think of the money supply as a

large male organ, continuously

inflating, and yet, the societal

vaginal cavity simply wants more.

As the vicious circle of higher

returns without real satisfaction

continues, the money-organ may seem

to be in demand, but in fact even

the most inflated capital is

unwanted. This is why I suggest

that while we engage this mawing

abyss for the highest returns, we

at the same time fantasize, so to

speak, of the safe harbor of

capital appreciation.

The aging boss nods agreement.

SHACKLEY:

(more or less mumbling)

Brilliant, brilliant.

George Clair just grins.

INT. BEN HOOD'S OFFICE. DAY

Ben is gathering papers, readying to leave. He looks up to

see George Clair in his doorway.

GEORGE:

Hey there Benjie, you're becoming

quite the in-house philosopher.

When do you have time to think up

all that stuff -- Shackley sure

eats it up.

INTERCUT HALL IN FRONT OF BEN HOOD'S OFFICE

As we see that Clair is deftly fondling Hood's attractive

secretary as she is seated in the cubicle beside the door to

his office. She looks up coyly at Clair, hidden for the

moment from Ben's view.

Ben comes out of his office, pulling his coat on. Clair and

the secretary pull back, but it's clear that Ben has some

sense of what's transpiring between them.

BEN:

George, I'm just trying to get a

global view of things -- can't just

look at the small picture.

There's an obvious rivalry between the two of them.

GEORGE:

And speaking of which, you have

those market share charts Mr.

Shackley was asking about?

BEN:

Gotcha George, not a problem.

Tomorrow. Hey, you want to start

covering the old filmed

entertainment sector yourself?

GEORGE:

Ben you know that's your territory

- and I wouldn't dream to trespass

- you're the expert. Hey, how do

you think Paramount's gonna do with

that Blatty novel, what's it

called? The Exorcist?

BEN:

Overpriced bomb, cost over $6

million -- no stars, and no one's

into the horror genre these days

anyway. I'm advising the company

recommend reducing positions there.

It's disaster films that are gonna

stay at the top.

GEORGE:

Brilliant. Hey, you heading out a

little early today?

BEN:

Got a meeting uptown.

GEORGE:

(already moving off)

Right o'.

BEN:

Up the organization!

(then, to himself)

Bastard.

The secretary pretends not to hear.

EXT. UNIVERSITY CLUB. DAY

An august New York institution. To establish.

INT. CLUB RESTAURANT. DAY

A stuffy, Ivy League atmosphere. A decades-old tradition of

serving overcooked American food. Ben is seated across from

his father, Harold Hood, a retired curmudgeon. There is a

walker parked by Harold's chair.

HAROLD:

(waylaying a passing

waiter)

I'd asked for that double martini

about three hours ago!

WAITER:

Coming right up, sir.

HAROLD:

So asking me out for lunch -- what

prompted this exceptional event? --

Of course I'm paying.

BEN:

We don't have to always go to your

club, dad.

HAROLD:

And why are you still calling me

dad? You're forty years old

already, and --

BEN:

-- Well what am I supposed to call

you?

HAROLD:

That's besides the point.

The martini arrives, along with Ben's beer.

BEN:

I was actually trying to see about

getting a little advice, you know --

HAROLD:

Advice? I'm supposed to be getting

the stock tips from you, Ben.

Unless - have you quit your job?

They fired you?

BEN:

You know, dah--

He looks up and sees his father slurping his martini, not

paying attention.

BEN (CONT'D)

Actually it's not about work, it's

advice about --

HAROLD:

Oh for crying out loud Ben, you

don't mean to tell me that your

marriage is going down the drain

now --

BEN:

Well, Elena and I have kind of been

talking, not really talking, but --

HAROLD:

-- Your mother, God bless her,

stood by me for forty-two years --

we never once contemplated divorce

- I assume you're talking here

about divorce? The very thought --

BEN:

But dad, you guys truly hated each

other, I mean really hated each --

HAROLD:

-- Waiter! Where's my cobb salad?

(back to Ben)

You want advice Ben? If your big

brother were still alive I'd have

him go out into the back yard and

beat some sense into your head.

Look kid, you married that woman

against my advice --

BEN:

-- What advice? You never --

HAROLD:

That's besides the point. The point

is if I'd had any sense in me I'd

have divorced your mother 40 years

ago, and that's the truth, and here

it is, 1972 --

BEN:

-- 73

HAROLD:

-- 73, and divorce is as easy as

paying off a traffic ticket, and

for crying out loud, Ben, be a man

and just get it over with. I would

have if I'd had the chance.

Ben ponders, as the food arrives.

BEN:

(weakly)

But...

HAROLD:

But what?

BEN:

But I -- well maybe I love her.

Elena.

His father rolls his eyes and stabs his salad with a fork.

HAROLD:

Christ Ben! Make up your mind and

eat your lunch.

INT. BOOK STORE. DAY

Elena browses the self-help section. A longish-haired,

slightly gone-to-seed, but still handsome clergyman pauses

next to her. He's wearing an ecclesiastical collar and bell

bottoms.

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