PS: “Bitching” is as good as it gets. XXX
STEVE presses a button on the compad and climbs happily back onto his bike.
CUT TO:
INT. HENRY HALL, PRINCETON—SOME TIME LATER
MICHAEL emerges from his room clutching a bag. He closes the door and walks along the corridor.
He jumps down the stairs, five at a time, until he reaches the lobby. He goes to a door marked “Printing Room” and enters.
CUT TO:
INT. PRINTING ROOM, HENRY HALL—SAME TIME
MICHAEL, alone in the room, approaches a large printer and presses a button on the front panel. The message comes up: “Student number?”
MICHAEL punches in his number. A message says: “Hello, Michael D. Young. Please insert cart . . .”
MICHAEL gets out some carts from his bag, goes through them and inserts the first. A new message appears: “# of copies?”
MICHAEL punches “1.” Another message: “Collation method? 1 = LOOSE 2=PUNCHED 3=LAMINATE-BOUND.”
MICHAEL thinks about this for a moment. He looks around and sees, on a shelf above the printer, a small tray of green string document tags. He presses “2” on the control panel.
The message reads: “Now printing. Please wait.” There is a humming noise from the machine and the sound of paper being flicked and sucked and fed through rollers.
MICHAEL goes to a chair and gets out a book from his bag. We see the title: Darkness Falls by George Orwell. He starts to read.
MUSIC
FADE TO:
INT. HENRY HALL, PRINT ROOM—
TIME LAPSE SEQUENCE
A series of shots:
The printer’s control panel ejects a cart and the display comes up: “Next cart.”
MICHAEL jumps up from his reading, finds the next cart and places it in the machine.
He returns to the chair.
The control panel ejects the next cart.
MICHAEL replaces the next: the picture FADES to the next cart ejecting. Double and triple exposed images of MICHAEL standing up, sitting down, replacing carts, carts being ejected.
The machine beeps.
CLOSE on the display.
END MUSIC:
The display reads: “224 Pages. You have been billed $25.00. Thank you, Michael D. Young.”
MICHAEL stands looking stupidly at the machine. Where is the printout?
He walks round to the back. There is a molded plastic handle at the rear of the printer.
MICHAEL lifts the handle cautiously.
Nestling neatly, squared, a punched hole lined up exactly at the top left of each page, is a tall stack of printed paper.
The top page reads:
from brunau to vienna:
the roots of power
michael young, ma, m phil
Below it is a turn-of-the-century sepia portrait of the very young Rudolf Gloder.
MICHAEL looks at the manuscript lovingly and breathes quietly to himself . . .
MICHAEL
Das Meisterwerk!
CUT TO:
EXT. ALCHEMIST AND BARRISTER, PRINCETON—LATER
MICHAEL and STEVE are sipping beers in the corner of the courtyard at the table nearest the street. The tables on either side of them are empty. MICHAEL checks the other tables.
STEVE
Hey, don’t be so paranoid. It makes you look suspicious.
MICHAEL
22 Mercer Street. You’re sure?
STEVE
Sure I’m sure. I’ll show you on the map. Real easy to find. How’d the printing go?
MICHAEL pulls up his bag from the floor and opens the top. STEVE peeps inside.
STEVE (CONT’D)
Jesus, how long is that?
MICHAEL
It repeats and repeats. He’ll only see the first couple of dozen pages. I’ll make sure of that.
STEVE
You’re the boss.
They sip beer for a while. Suddenly MICHAEL starts.
MICHAEL
Hey! It’s Friday today. Jo-Beth!
STEVE nods glumly.
STEVE
I know. I’ve been thinking about that and it’s okay.
MICHAEL
“You’ve been thinking about that and it’s okay?” What does that mean?
STEVE
I’ll go. It’s no problem.
MICHAEL
You’ll go on the date?
STEVE
Uh-huh. I’ll go.
MICHAEL
But if she . . . you know . . . gets up close and personal?
STEVE
I’ll handle it.
MICHAEL thinks about this for a while.
MICHAEL
So now it’s my turn to be jealous.
STEVE is touched.
STEVE
Come on. You just said that to please me.
MICHAEL
Oh yeah?
STEVE doesn’t know whether to believe him or not.
STEVE
Another beer. I need one. For courage.
MICHAEL
Hey, she’s not gonna bite you, you know. You might even enjoy it. She’s a nice girl. There’s worse things.
STEVE
(standing)
Right.
CUT TO:
EXT. NASSAU STREET—NIGHT
STEVE is walking slowly along the sidewalk, now wearing a jacket and tie. He reaches PJ’s Pancake House. He looks through the window. He can’t see much. He swallows twice, straightens his tie and enters.
CUT TO:
INT. PJ’S PANCAKE HOUSE—NIGHT
JO-BETH is hanging up her waitress uniform. She turns when she hears the door.
STEVE
(shyly)
Hi there, Jo-Beth.
JO-BETH
(embarrassed)
Oh. Steve. Hi! Listen, um . . . I tried to get in touch with you . . . but . . .
STEVE
Is there a problem?
A MAN gets up from a seat and turns round. It’s RONNIE.
RONNIE
I am that problem . . .
STEVE
(staring in surprise)
Ronnie?
RONNIE
(shrugging cockily)
Sorry, pal. But, like they say. All’s fair in love and war, you know what I mean?
STEVE
Oh . . . you mean you and . . . ? Oh, I get it.
JO-BETH
Steve, I’m really sorry. Really I am. It’s just that Ronnie and I. We . . .
STEVE
(putting up a hand)
Hey! No, no. Really. It’s fine. I understand. Totally. I totally understand. Truly. Believe me.
RONNIE comes up to him grinning broadly.
RONNIE
Hey. Put it there, Burns. Taken like a man.
STEVE shakes RONNIE’s hand. Serious guy stuff.
STEVE
Sure. No problem. I’ll . . . I’ll see you guys around. Have a good time now, you hear? Enjoy the movie or . . . you know . . . whatever . . .
STEVE backs out, trying desperately to look at the same time bitterly disappointed and generous in defeat, whereas inside he is feeling exultant and relieved.
CUT TO:
INT. MICHAEL’S ROOM, BEDROOM, HENRY HALL—NIGHT
MICHAEL is lying in bed, reading Darkness Falls. He hears the sound of his door opening and sits up, alert.
The door to the bedroom opens and STEVE stands there.
MICHAEL looks surprised to see him and looks at his watch. It is only ten o’clock.
MICHAEL mouths the words, “How was the movie?”
STEVE shakes his head slow
ly and starts to kick off his shoes.
He mouths the word “Ronnie.”
MICHAEL switches on the radio next to his bed and turns up the volume. Country-and-western music fills the room.
MICHAEL
(under the music)
Did you say “Ronnie”?
STEVE
He got in there real fast, I’ll say that for him.
MICHAEL
So you’ve been chucked? Jilted. Passed over. I never would have thought Jo-Beth had such poor taste.
STEVE smiles at the compliment, sits on the bed and ruffles MICHAEL’s hair.
STEVE
(just loving the word)
You are so cool . . .
He reaches over and switches off the radio.
CUT TO:
EXT. MERCER STREET, PRINCETON—EARLY MORNING
We PULL BACK from Number 22, where LEO’s blue car is still parked.
We LOOK down the street, beautiful in the early light. Bird song, light dappling on the sidewalk, an idyllic summer morning.
MICHAEL is leaning against a tree on his bike. He has his bag in his hands and is checking the pages of the manuscript inside.
The first twenty or so pages are loose, the rest are firmly tagged.
He hears a noise and looks up the street to Number 22.
A door opens. LEO emerges, a briefcase under his arm.
MICHAEL stiffens, arranges the bag over his shoulder and crouches over his handlebars, ready to go.
LEO starts the engine of his car and switches on the radio.
MUSIC floods out. Beethoven’s Eroica.
Tumpty-tumming to himself, LEO shoots a cursory glance into the driver’s mirror and backs slowly out of the driveway.
CUT TO:
ANOTHER ANGLE:
Crouching low, tight to the tree line, MICHAEL pedaling furiously towards us.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
The trunk of the car slowly emerging from the driveway.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
LEO humming lustily to Beethoven.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
from WIDER and HIGHER, MICHAEL’s bike hurtling towards the emerging rear end of the car.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
LEO singing very lustily now: he accelerates the car backwards and . . .
THUMP! CRASH!
MICHAEL’s front wheel CRASHES into the blue metal of LEO’s car.
PAPERS fly in the air.
LEO slams on the brakes, aghast. Papers swirl about his head and flutter into the car itself.
LEO cuts the engine, the MUSIC dies.
LEO
(leaping from the car)
Oh my God. My God!
MICHAEL lies artistically on the road, the bulk of his manuscript still safely held in the bag.
LEO comes round and stoops anxiously. His accent is thickly Germanic, not a hint of American in it.
LEO
Are you all right? Oh, please God you are all right! I didn’t see you. I never saw you. Forgive me, forgive me.
MICHAEL
(getting to his feet)
Woah—that’s okay, sir. No bones broken. Whew!
He dusts himself off.
LEO
You are sure? You are not hurt?
MICHAEL
Guess I shoulda looked where I was going. It’s my fault. I was on the wrong side of the street . . . oh Jesus, my assignment!
MICHAEL looks in horror at the pieces of paper scattered all around and inside the car.
LEO
I get them for you. I get them, no problem. Please, stay where you are.
MICHAEL looks into his bag.
MICHAEL
They’re mostly still here. Sheesh! I thought I was really screwed then.
LEO leaps about collecting papers from inside the car and around the curb.
LEO
Here. They are fine. They are . . .
He breaks off. He has seen the title page. MICHAEL looks at him innocently.
MICHAEL
They all there, sir? I guess I need . . .
(he checks the bag)
. . . pages one through twenty-four.
LEO looks through the pages, counting. MICHAEL studies his face carefully.
LEO
(curious but watchful)
All there. You are history student?
MICHAEL
Me? Oh, no, sir. Philosophy.
LEO
Philosophy? But, the title of your work, it . . .
MICHAEL
Oh, right! You see, I’m doing a paper on evil.
LEO
Evil? A paper on evil?
MICHAEL
Um-hm. For my ethics course. I’ve been researching the early life of Rudolf Gloder. Every detail of his childhood. It’s not well covered. You’d be surprised what I’ve found out. Stuff about his mother, his birth. Everything. I have a theory that . . . oh, I’m sorry, sir. I’m boring you.
LEO
No, no. Not at all. Boring me? No.
MICHAEL holds out his hand.
MICHAEL
If I can have them, sir?
LEO
(distracted)
Excuse me?
MICHAEL
The pages?
LEO
Oh yes. Of course. Here. Forgive me.
(handing over the pages that MICHAEL tucks into the bag)
It is just that it seems so wrong. A boy like you, here . . . in this country. In America.
MICHAEL
Sir?
LEO
That you should worry your head with such a subject. What can you know of evil?
MICHAEL
Well, I guess we all know something about evil, sir. I mean, you only have to open a newspaper, am I right? Crime. Child murder. Corruption. And in history. The Moscow and Leningrad bombs. The JFS. The . . .
LEO
Excuse me? Tchay effess? What is this tchayeffess?
MICHAEL
That’s J - F - S, sir. The Jewish Free State?
LEO
Ah, of course. JFS. I understand. What do you know of this JFS?
MICHAEL
(shrugging)
Well, no more ’an anyone else, I guess. There’s rumors. But you know . . .
LEO
(nodding)
Yes. Always there are rumors.
MICHAEL
Well, I’m sorry about the accident, sir . . . guess I’d better be moving along.
MICHAEL looks ruefully at the front wheel of his bike which is buckled, tire flat, spokes dented.
LEO
Going? Good heavens, what are you talking? You must come in and clean up. I will have your bicycle to be repaired.
MICHAEL
Oh, that’s not necessary, sir . . .
LEO
No, no. I insist. Please. And afterwards I can give you a . . . what is the word? Wherever you need to go.
MICHAEL
A lift.
LEO
(surprised)
A lift? That is the English usage, no? Oops . . .
MICHAEL
(hastily)
We say lift sometimes. Or ride.
LEO
Ah yes, “ride.” That is what I wanted to say. Much more American. I give you a ride into town, pardner. First you clean up, please.
MICHAEL picks the bike up and leans it against the hedge. They walk together, MICHAEL limping bravely, up along the pathway, towards the front door of the house.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
LEO and MICHAEL, from a VERY LONG LENS, which wavers slightly, enter the house and the door closes.
ANOTHE
R ANGLE:
STEVE, perched up a tree, is looking through his camera, which has a big telephoto lens attached.
He puts it down and sits in the bough of the tree, swinging his leg beneath him. Everything seems to be going to plan.
Something catches his attention. He sits up again and puts the camera to his eye.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
FROM STEVE’S CAMERA’S POV: We look up the line of cars parked along Mercer Street.
We pass along, stop suddenly and return down the line of cars to a maroon sedan, facing us. The driver’s-side window of the sedan is open and an elbow is visible, jutting out. The arm straightens right out and flicks ash from a cigarette onto the street.
Too much light is reflecting off the windshield to make out the face of the man behind the wheel.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
STEVE scrabbles in his blue nylon bag and nearly falls out of the tree in his haste.
He steadies himself and fishes from the bag a small, silver box, which he opens. He pulls out a glass ring that he holds up to the light and looks through.
He polishes the ring with a silk duster from inside the box. He closes the box and returns it to his bag and, one arm hooked around a branch for safety, he carefully attaches this glass ring to the end of the telephoto lens. Now he lifts the camera to his eye once more.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
FROM STEVE’S CAMERA’S POV: Again we move along the line of cars. This time, the polarizing filter allows us to see through the glare of reflections on the windshields. We stop at the maroon sedan.
STEVE (OOV)
(under his breath)
Holy shit . . .
The man behind the wheel is familiar to STEVE. It is HUBBARD.
CUT BACK TO:
STEVE dropping the camera, which dangles from its strap against his chest. He opens the nylon bag again and frantically scrabbles for his compad.
CUT TO:
INT. LEO’S HOUSE, MERCER STREET—SAME TIME
MICHAEL is in the kitchen, one leg up on the table. LEO turns back from the sink, a piece of cotton lint soaked in water in his hand. He dabs at MICHAEL’s grazed knee.
MICHAEL winces slightly.
LEO
(anxiously)
There is pain?
MICHAEL
No, no. It’s fine. Just stings a little, that’s all. I feel like the boy in The Go-Between.
LEO
Excuse me?
MICHAEL
It’s a movie. A kid cuts his knee sliding down a hayrick and Alan Bates dabs at it just like this.
LEO
This movie I never saw.
MICHAEL
No. No, I guess not. Excuse me, I should tell you my name. I’m Michael Young.
LEO
How do you do, Michael Young. My name is Franklin. Chester Franklin.