Youth Page #19

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After a while.

MICK BOYLE:

I talked with Lena a bit this

morning. She’s worried about you.

Fred stares at the mountain peak, impassive. Mick waits, but

Fred doesn’t respond.

MICK BOYLE (CONT’D)

It's years since you went to see

Melanie. Why don't you go? Venice

is so close.

85.

Fred is impassive. He doesn’t say a word. Mick turns to look

at him, but Fred keeps staring straight ahead, his eyes on

the mountain. Mick tries again.

MICK BOYLE (CONT’D)

Lena told me about this story with

Queen Elizabeth. You didn’t breathe

a word to me about it. Well, it

could be pretty nice, no? I’d be so

happy to hear Simple Song No. 3

played live one last time.

FRED BALLINGER:

I wouldn't.

MICK BOYLE:

You don't want to betray the memory

of Melanie, but sometimes, in order

to remain faithful, you have to

have the courage to betray. Don't

you agree?

Fred, after a silence, as he looks at the mountain.

FRED BALLINGER:

Mick, there’s something that I just

can’t get out of my head.

MICK BOYLE:

What?

FRED BALLINGER:

What it would have been like to

sleep with Gilda Black!

MICK BOYLE:

(embarrassed) Yeah! I wonder too!

Fred turns to scrutinize Mick, because he doesn’t trust the

truth of his words. In a hiss halfway between serious and

humorous, he says.

FRED BALLINGER:

Liar!

Mick avoids his friend’s gaze.

58. EXT. MOUNTAIN. DAY

It’s so beautiful here, the silence and the pure air of the

mountains at 10,000 feet.

Fred and Mick are sitting on a grassy slope that gives on to

a valley far below. There’s no one there, only the two of

them and all this nature and silence. Fred unwraps a candy

and pops it in his mouth.

86.

After a sizeable silence, Fred pierces the soft mountain

breeze.

FRED BALLINGER:

Hey Mick.

MICK BOYLE:

Yeah?

FRED BALLINGER:

Why are we dressed like this?

Mick sniggers.

There in that immense silence, Fred starts rubbing the candy

wrapper in time to some inner music. Mick casts a sidelong

glance at his friend’s fingers.

MICK BOYLE:

That’s not so great.

FRED BALLINGER:

What?

MICK BOYLE:

The piece you’re playing with that

candy wrapper. You’ve done a lot

better than that in your lifetime.

Now it’s Fred who sniggers a bit. Then he turns serious.

58A. EXT. HOTEL GARDEN. NIGHT

The hooker's tiny mother, hand in hand with her plump, clumsy

daughter. They walk under the long canopy that runs through

the garden. The neon "Hotel" sign looms above them.

They arrive at the hotel entrance. As always, the mother

kisses her daughter and then tells her.

HOOKER'S MOTHER

Do good things.

The daughter enters the hotel. The mother gives her one last

look.

59. INT. PRIVATE SAUNA POOL. DAY

Mick and Fred are the only ones sitting on the boiling wooden

benches. Skinny little towels cover their private parts.

They’re sweating like pigs. It seems as if they could die at

any moment.

They sit in silence, exhausted from the infernal heat, when a

vision brings them back to the spectacle of life.

87.

A statuesque woman appears, wrapped in a robe. She takes it

off. Naked. Her beauty and corporeal perfection are the

epitome of sensational. With utmost elegance and femininity,

this creature - for that is what she is - places a towel on

the wooden bench and gently reclines. Indifferent to her own

nakedness and to the two old men, she closes her eyes and

relaxes.

Not only is this woman completely comfortable, but she seems

to have been created to make the rest of world uncomfortable.

Fred and Mick, ill at ease, stare at her the way one stares

at those paranormal - and therefore inexplicable - phenomena

in nature.

It takes them an unreasonable amount of time to regain any

semblance of rational thought. They begin whispering to each

other, so as not to be overheard by that perfect creature.

FRED BALLINGER:

Who is she?

MICK BOYLE:

What do you mean, who is she? Miss

Universe.

FRED BALLINGER:

She looks completely different,

unrecognizable.

MICK BOYLE:

She’s been transformed, from

watching all those robot movies.

Fred doesn’t laugh. He can’t. He has to gaze dizzily at Miss

Universe, whose beauty drains him.

MICK BOYLE (CONT’D)

You know something, Fred? By dint

of all our piss talk, we’ve

forgotten that that organ is also

made to fulfill other functions.

FRED BALLINGER:

Take it easy with those illusions,

Mick.

MICK BOYLE:

Illusions? You know they make these

little pills now...

FRED BALLINGER:

Yeah, but it distorts the reality

of the situation.

MICK BOYLE:

And so? And what have I been doing

my whole life making films?

88.

Miss Universe languidly shifts her legs a few inches, just

enough to inflict further despair on our two old men.

FRED BALLINGER:

Anyway, she’s not interested, Mick,

She’s interested in a body that

corresponds to hers. Sex is like

music, it wants harmony. And

rightly so. We’re no longer in any

condition to harmonize with anyone,

Mick.

They could cry at this point, and they might have, if an

attendant hadn’t come into the sauna just then.

ATTENDANT:

Excuse me, Mr. Boyle, there’s

someone here to see you.

MICK BOYLE:

(snorts) Can’t you see that we’re

living the last great idyll of our

lives? Well, who's the pain in the

neck?

ATTENDANT:

Brenda Morel.

60. INT. PANORAMA HALL/ BALLROOM. DAY

Here she is, the genius, Brenda Morel. Who was once a deeply

mysterious femme fatale. Impeccable, sitting up straight in a

small armchair. Over eighty years old. Numerous face lifts. A

delicate diamond choker sparkles among her wrinkles, which

are more obstinate than her plastic surgeon. A cascade of

blond hair that make us wonder about her hairdresser.

While she waits, she expertly runs her tongue over her entire

dental arch, making sure that her lipstick hasn’t stained her

perfect dentures.

Mick enters, sparking an orgy of joy and affectation. But not

Brenda. She is serious. Aloof.

MICK BOYLE:

Brenda! What a fabulous, marvelous

surprise!

BRENDA:

Hi, Mick.

They kiss each other on the cheek.

MICK BOYLE:

You look fabulous, Brenda. The very

picture of radiance and sex appeal.

89.

BRENDA:

You're getting mixed up with last

millennium, Mick.

Mick laughs theatrically.

MICK BOYLE:

What, you just couldn’t wait any

longer? We just finished the latest

version, you know. We were having

trouble with the ending, but then

yesterday, eureka! it came to us.

So now that you’re here in the

flesh, we can hand it to you. But

didn’t you tell me you were going

to be in Los Angeles? What are you

doing in Europe?

Brenda looks Mick in the eyes.

BRENDA:

How long have we known each other,

Mick?

MICK BOYLE:

Jesus, you’re putting me on the

spot! Let me count...

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