Wonder Boys

All IS A BLUR. . .

...then WORDS appear, twisting and vaguely transparent,

reflected on the window GRADY TRIPP stands before as he

reads from a sheaf of NEATLY-TYPED PAGES.

GRADY:

'The young girl sat perfectly still in the

confessional...

1INT. CLASSROOM - UNIVERSITY - AFTERNOON

Grady--45-year-old novelist, professor, and insomniac--is

in the midst of reading a story to the dozen college

STUDENTS who make up his Advanced Writing Workshop.

GRADY:

...listening to her father's boots scrape like

chalk on the ancient steps of the church, then

grow faint, then disappear altogether.'

As he finishes, GRADY ponders a PAIR of MAINTENANCE MEN,

perched on ladders in the quad below, stringing a LARGE

BANNER between two bare trees. The BANNER reads:

WELCOME TO WORDFEST

GRADY turns, peers at his students. They look as if

they've been on a field trip to the DMV.

GRADY (cont'd)

(a wave of the pages)

So. .Anyone?

A GIRL with jet-black hair turns to a PALE YOUNG MAN

sitting at a desk in the back of the classroom. He is JAMES

LEER, 19. Like GRADY a moment before, he is staring out the

window.

CARRIE MCWHIRTY:

Let me get this straight. The girl with the

big lips is depressed because, each night, when

her father goes off to work at the bakery, her

mother sneaks some mysterious lover into the

house. Not only does this girl have to listen

to her mother working this guy in the next

room, she has to wash the sheets each morning

before Daddy gets home. After a few weeks of

this, she starts to go a little nutty/ so Daddy

takes her to confession--only, once she gets in

the box, she gets a whiff of the priest and

realizes he's the mother's secret lover. Is

that it?

James Leer says nothing, huddling lower in the PATTY

OVERCOAT he wears.

CARRIE MCWHIRTY:

I mean, Jesus. What is it with you Catholics?

GRADY:

All right. Let's try to keep it constructive,

shall we? Howard, what about you?

HOWARD:

I hated it.

GRADY:

That's not exactly what I meant by

constructive, Howard.

HOWARD:

I think James should try to be more

constructive. This is my second semester with

him. His stories are brutal, man. They make me

want to kill myself.

GRADY glances at James, but his face remains impassive.

Then--with a visible sense of relief--GRADY notices the

raised hand of the achingly beautiful HANNAH GREEN.

GRADY:

Yes, Hannah?

HANNAH GREEN:

I think maybe we're missing the point. It

seems to me James' strength as a writer is that

he doesn't take us by the hand. He treats us

like adults. He respects us enough to forget

us. That takes . . . courage .

GRADY nods, smiles subtly. Appreciative.

GRADY:

Well put, Hannah. And a good note to end on, I

think.

(as the students rise)

Don't forget about WordFest this weekend. And

remember:
those of you driving V.I.P.s to

tonight's cocktail party need to have them at

the Chancellor's house no later than 5:30.

Hannah Green gathers her things, pauses by Grady.

GRADY:

Thanks for that. He all right?

HANNAH GREEN:

I think so. ..What about you?

GRADY:

Me? Sure. Why?

HANNAH GREEN:

Just checking.

GRADY watches her glide away in her CRACKED RED COWBOY

BOOTS, then starts to exit himself.

JAMES LEER:

Turn out the light, please.

GRADY pauses, studying the wan figure sitting at the back

of the classroom, then--reluctantly-hits the switch on the

wail, leaving James Leer alone in the DARK.

2INT. STAIRWELL/CORRIDOR - AFTERNOON (MOMENTS LATER)

GRADY hurries down the steps, then spies SARA GASKSLL,

45, standing below. She is talking to a BOY with an armful

of SLICK PROGRAMS.

SARA:

(calm but firm)

No, Elliot, I said five hundred programs for

today. This means we have no programs for the

weekend. This means that tomorrow morning, at

9AM, several hundred people will walk into Thaw

Hall and have absolutely no idea where they are

going.

(shaking her head)

It's all right, Elliot. I'll take care of it.

GRADY watches Sara take the programs, turn, and spot him.

There is the slightest of hesitations, then....

SARA:

Professor Tripp.

GRADY:

Chancellor.

SARA:

I got the message you called.

GRADY:

I got the message you called too.

This hangs in the air, awkward somehow, then both nod and

continue on, without so much as a backward glance.

3INT. GRADY'S CAR - MOVING

The RADIO BLASTS as GRADY pops the glove box, removes a

JOINT as big as his pinky, and wheels his DARK MAROON '66

GALAXIE RAGTOP away from campus, cruising under another

BANNER:

WELCOME TO WORDFEST FEBRUARY 26-28

4EXT. GALAXIE - MOVING.. - PITTSBURGH

GRADY cruises past the three rivers and modest

skyscrapers of downtown, sipping at the weed.

5INT. PITTSBURGH AIRPORT

GRADY rides the long, automated treadmill that runs half

the length of the terminal, until...

6INT. ARRIVAL GATE - PITTSBURGH AIRPORT

...TERRY CRABTREE--Grady's editor and friend-exits the

tunnel with a STUNNING YOUNG WOMAN in a skin-tight black

dress, bright red topcoat, and three-inch spike heels.

Grinning devilishly, Crabtree whispers something in the

woman's ear, then spots Grady.

CRABTREE:

Tripp!

GRADY:

How are you, Crabtree?

CRABTREE:

Brimming. Say hello to my new friend, Miss

Antonia. . .uh. . . .

WOMAN:

Sloviak.

CRABTREE:

I took the liberty of inviting Antonia to

tonight's festivities. You don't mind, do you.

Trip? ?

GRADY:

(a slight beat)

The more the merrier.

MISS SLOVIAK:

Terry was telling me about you on the plane.

It was ail so interesting.

CRABTREE:

I was explaining to Antonia how a book comes

to be published. What you do as a writer, what

I do as an editor...

GRADY:

I sweat blood for five years and he checks for

spelling.

MISS SLOVIAK:

(indicating Crabtree)

That's exactly what he said.

CRABTREE:

We know each other pretty well.

(to Grady)

So where's Emily?

GRADY:

Emily?

CRABTREE:

Your wife.

GRADY:

Oh. We're picking her up. Downtown.

CRABTREE:

Perfect. Well then, shall we?

GRADY nods, but lingers briefly--studying the

architecture of Miss Sloviak's ankles as she CLICKS off in

her spike heels, arm in arm with Crabtree.

7INT. BAGGAGE CAROUSEL - AIRPORT - MOMENTS LATER

GRADY and Crabtree watch suitcases tumble as Miss Sloviak

sits across the way, inspecting her face in a compact.

CRABTREE:

Do you know how many times I've boarded an

airplane praying someone like her would sit

down beside me? Particularly while I'm on my

way to Pittsburgh.

GRADY:

Lay off Pittsburgh. It's one of the great

cities.

CRABTREE:

If it can produce a Miss Sloviak you'll get no

argument from me.

GRADY:

She's a transvestite.

CRABTREE:

You're stoned.

GRADY:

She's still a transvestite.

CRABTREE:

Mm.

GRADY:

Isn't she?

Crabtree ignores Grady's question, smiling placidly as he

watches the carousel spin.

CRABTREE:

So how's the book?

GRADY stiffens. He had been expecting this, but not so

soon. He tries to act casual.

GRADY:

It's fine. It's done. Basically. I'm just sort

of. ..tinkering with it.

CRABTREE:

Great. I was hoping I could get a look at it

sometime this weekend. Think that might be

possible?

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