Poe- (glaring at Miller) What the hell is wrong with him?
Molly- I know. He looks dead.
Jude- He’s depressed, maybe. He’s afraid you don’t like him.
Poe- I don’t. I don’t like him.
Molly- He looks dead.
Poe- Are you high?
Jude- He’s not dead.
Molly- But he’s not breathing.
Jude- It’s a Buddhist thing.
Poe- That would explain the funny hat.
Jude- Anyway, the joke concerns Billy the Kid…
Poe- Enough of this shit. Where is the boy?
Jude- Do you want to hear this joke, or not?
Poe- Please. Tell us a fucking joke.
Jude- Billy the Kid was in a shootout with his pal Charlie. Billy shot Charlie in the throat, but didn’t kill him. Charlie fell in the dirt and started rolling around like he was drowning in yellow dust. He was taking forever to die. While he was thrashing, a chicken waddled over to Charlie where he lay and grabbed hold of this exposed vein in his neck, grabbed it up in his beak and just yanked it out like a purple rope, then tugged and tugged until it was like ten feet long. And what do you think Charlie said?
Molly- I don’t…I don’t know.
Jude- Get away from me yer stupid chicken.
Molly- That’s not a joke.
Jude- No. It’s kind of a poem, by Michael Ondaatje. He wrote the English Patient.
Poe and Molly exchange glances.
Jude- Come on. You can’t tell me that’s not funny.
Molly- I hated that movie.
Jude- Don’t even think of fucking with me, honey.
Molly- Yeah, well. I just kept wishing the English guy would die, already.
Poe- Where is the boy, Jude?
Jude- I can’t tell you.
Jude begins to laugh. Molly chews a thumbnail, worried. As Poe exits the room, Miller opens his eyes and draws a finger across his throat.
Cut to black-and-white overhead surveillance cameras and follow Poe as he searches the house. He moves from one room to the next but finds nothing. In the basement, he comes upon Jeremy and Huck, who are surrounded by an array of sound and video equipment. The three of them stare at one another.
Huck- You. You fucked up my boom mike.
Poe- Unreal. This is unreal.
He stalks around the room and comes upon a large box marked props. He throws open the box and methodically digs through it, tossing aside cell phones and wristwatches and eyeglasses and a prosthetic arm until he finds what he’s looking for: A small snub-nosed pistol, a.32.
Jeremy- You’re wasting your time, man. Blanks in it.
Poe- I don’t want to kill anyone, yet.
He glances up, suddenly aware of the tiny camera in the corner. He gets up and stares into the lens, then wearily smashes it with the pistol. The picture goes to snow for a moment.
Fade to interior, living room. Day.
Miller sits on the sofa with Jude. Their heads are bent together, as if sharing a secret. Jude smokes a cigarette, reading from a page of the script. Miller has a red pencil in his mouth. There are more pages of script on coffee table and floor. Molly paces around the room, turning now and then to glare at the camera.
Molly- Does the camera have to be on for this?
Miller- The making of the film and the film itself will overlap and become one.
Molly- It’s self-indulgence. It’s bullshit.
Miller- Maybe. But I think the making of the film might ultimately be more interesting than the film itself. And more frightening.
Jude- What’s with this scene between me and Poe?
Miller- Which scene?
Jude- This sex scene on page 36. It says here that I make his nose bleed without touching him.
M i l l e r -
Yeah. I’m thinking you have telekinetic powers, or something. I haven’t sorted that out, yet.
Molly- What sex scene?
Jude- Don’t tell me you’re jealous.
Enter Poe, holding the gun. He looks at Molly, then down at the child’s footprints. He bends to touch the paint and his finger comes away red. He shakes his head, disgusted. He kicks the glass coffee table sideways with his boot. The loose pages of script fly into the air. Poe points the gun at Miller.
Miller- Improv. I love it.
Poe- This is going to hurt, I’m afraid.
Miller- Please…you must be joking.
Poe- Where is the boy?
Miller- The boy?
Poe- Don’t do that. Don’t fucking echo me.
Miller- The script does mention a boy. But I haven’t decided what to do with him. Child actors can be such a nightmare.
Poe- I saw Jude bring the boy in here.
Jude- He’s imagining things.
Molly- What about these footprints?
Poe stares directly at the camera again.
Miller- I wish you wouldn’t do that. I hate it when actors address the camera.
Poe- What are you afraid of?
Miller doesn’t answer and without warning, Poe swings around and fires the gun at him. The shot is loud, deafening. Everyone jumps.
Miller- Missed. He missed me, by god.
Poe- I missed on purpose. For effect.
Molly- What about these footprints?
Jude- I can’t stand the smell of this fucking place. Did you ever notice how every family has its own terrible smell?
Pan to Molly, who stands on far side of the room, in the puddle of red paint. She has removed her cowboy boots and her feet are smeared red. Now she unbuttons her sundress as Jude reads aloud from the script.
Jude- The smell of furniture polish and dead flowers, the smell of shampoo and dirty boots. The smell of ashtrays and garlic and spilled gin.
Molly steps out of her dress and throws it aside. The dress flutters toward Poe, who catches it. His face is blank. Molly stands in red paint, wearing white underpants and bra. The camera moves closer and closer.
Jude- Every family has its own smell and if you’re not careful that smell will attach itself to you, it will sink into your skin and wipe out your own smell. It will become your smell. And ever after you will smell like a family.
Molly sits down on the chrome loveseat and buries her face in her hands. Poe goes to her. He stands over her but does not touch her.
Miller- Beautiful. Print it.
twenty-three.
