Youth Page #15

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Mick, Jimmy, and Fred can’t believe their eyes. Rightly so.

After five or six feats of such amazing acrobatics, he stops,

completely exhausted. He has trouble catching his breath.

66.

Jimmy spots his briarwood cane, leaning against the fence. He

grabs it and rushes over with it.

The South American thanks him, eyes brimming with gratitude,

body dripping with sweat. Without saying a word, he slowly

walks away, leaning heavily on his cane.

Two guitar notes, melancholy and discreet, accompany the

South American’s broken, belabored gait.

Jimmy, Fred, and Mick just stand there, scattered around the

tennis court, and watch the best ex-soccer player in the

world leave the field.

FADE TO BLACK.

38. INT. ROOM. AFTERNOON

FADE IN:

The two guitar notes float in here, without developing

further.

A flowered wall, English style. In front of it is a small

table with a magnificent silver tea service.

A women’s purse, flung by who knows whom, crashes into the

tea set. Everything ends up on the floor. The purse tumbles

open. It’s empty.

After a moment, the Queen's emissary enters the frame. He is

very distraught. He says in a whisper.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

Your Majesty, you nearly hit me!

QUEEN ELIZABETH’S VOICE

Yes, Mr. Bale, I nearly hit you.

The devastated emissary sighs. It’s as if the whole universe

were going to hell in a handbag.

39. INT. HOTEL RESTAURANT. EVENING

The two guitar notes die softly during this scene.

The German couple is silent again. They eat serenely, their

eyes never meeting.

The hippy mountaineer looks dejected, as if all his hopes

have been dashed as he steals glances at Lena, sitting with

Fred and Mick. She doesn’t even notice him.

67.

Jimmy Tree is dining with Mark Kozelek and other friends.

They’re laughing at Jimmy’s perfect imitation of Marlon

Brando.

Sushi tonight. Everyone’s using chopsticks.

Fred, Mick, and Lena dine in silence.

Lena says routinely.

LENA:

The French called again. They

really want to do that book with

you... your memoirs, everything

about your work, your life. What

shall I tell them?

FRED BALLINGER:

(reflects) Tell them...

He doesn’t know what else to say. Silence. Lena and Mick

wait.

LENA:

What?

FRED BALLINGER:

To forget me! Tell them that. I'm

retired! I’m done! With work and

life.

Mick raises his eyes heavenward, as if he knew this "song"

all too well and can’t stand it anymore.

FRED BALLINGER (CONT’D)

I have nothing to say, and what’s

more, I'm not interested.

MICK BOYLE:

Will you cut the crap? Your music

conveyed surprising, new emotions.

FRED BALLINGER:

But emotions are overrated too,

Mick.

Mick throws his chopsticks onto the table. He’s really pissed

off.

MICK BOYLE:

You're really unbearable when you

play the depressed cynic, Fred.

It’s a mystery how I managed to be

your friend all these years.

FRED BALLINGER:

You're a man of much patience,

Mick.

68.

MICK BOYLE:

And you're an idiot.

FRED BALLINGER:

That's for sure!

Lena is about to say something but Mick cuts her off.

MICK BOYLE:

A book about your work, life your

experiences - it would last

forever. It would be a help to

young musicians, to everyone. It's

important...

FRED BALLINGER:

(interrupts him) Important!...

Preserve your memory for posterity,

pass on your knowledge. I've been

hearing the same old tune for years

now, but it’s just an excuse, Mick,

a way of ignoring the real problem.

MICK BOYLE:

And what’s the real problem, Fred?

FRED BALLINGER:

Death, Mick! Death, it’s so close.

LENA:

So, instead of living you're

thinking about death coming closer.

Even though you’re still alive.

Mick nods vigorously. He addresses Lena.

MICK BOYLE:

Do you see why it pisses me off?

FRED BALLINGER:

Yes, Lena sees.

LENA:

But doesn’t the idea of reliving

your life, your work, fascinate

you?

FRED BALLINGER:

No. It only hurts me. Can’t you see

that? And besides, there's nothing

more to say. Stravinsky already

said it all. He composed simple

music and everyone attacked him.

“He’s abandoned modernism! He’s not

respecting tradition!” the critics

thundered. But he was merely

rediscovering the past, his mirror.

(MORE)

69.

FRED BALLINGER (CONT'D)

That’s when he uttered that

beautiful phrase: "You may respect,

but I love." What more can I add?

Lena and Mick have nothing else to say. Fred picks up his

chopsticks and holds them in the air, not eating. Lena stares

at him.

Out of the blue, the boy violinist comes over. Fred doesn’t

even notice him.

The child gently adjusts Fred’s hand - the one holding the

chopsticks - raising it an inch. As if correcting his

position.

Fred gazes at the boy and smiles sadly.

The boy simply smiles back at him, and then runs off, the way

children do. Always running, they are.

40. EXT. HOTEL GARDEN. NIGHT

A fakir is lying on a bed of nails on the stage.

Lena, Fred, Mick, and Jimmy Tree are sitting together at one

of the tables, impassively watching the show.

JIMMY TREE:

These shows are really pathetic.

All that’s missing is a mime.

FRED BALLINGER:

We usually get one of those by the

end of the summer as well.

The fakir levitates, rising above the bed of nails.

The audience applauds.

The fakir's back is very red. He spits fire from his mouth

and says.

FAKIR:

Thank you, everyone. And now, I

hope you will enjoy some

traditional horn music, played by a

local ensemble.

Eight old men carrying long horns come onto the stage. They

begin a gloomy litany.

A man whom we assume to be the hotel manager comes over to

our characters’ table. He addresses Jimmy Tree, but Fred,

Mick, and Lena listen in as well.

70.

HOTEL MANAGER:

Excuse me, Mr. Tree, but a new

guest has arrived. Her name is

Joyce Owens, she has just won the

Miss Universe pageant. She’s a

great admirer of yours and would

like to meet you.

JIMMY TREE:

Ok, here I am.

The manager gestures, and Miss Universe appears from a dark

corner of the garden.

Our characters wait for her to arrive, their hearts aflutter.

But Miss Universe turns out to be an unbelievable

disappointment. She’s wearing a cheap, oversize track suit

that ruins her figure and makes her look plump, and - even

though it’s dark - a pair of violet-tinted sunglasses with

vulgar frames that are too big for her face. Her skin is bad,

her hair stringy and dirty. What’s more, she has an awful

voice, which we hear when she shakes Jimmy’s hand.

MISS UNIVERSE:

It’s such a pleasure to meet you.

I’m a huge fan of yours. I

literally went crazy when you

played Mister Q.

Jimmy Tree raises his eyes heavenward. He’s had more than

enough of Mister Q.

MISS UNIVERSE (CONT’D)

I never miss a robot movie, but

that one’s my favorite.

JIMMY TREE:

(teasing) Thank you. And do you

ever watch any other kinds of

movie, other than robot movies?

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