What Just Happened?
Page 21
DICK’S VOICE: AARRRRGGGHHH!
Ben leans in inches from his speaker phone.
DICK’S VOICE: AARRRGGGHHH!
BEN: Jeezus, man, get hold of yourself.
A beat. All one can hear is Dick’s heavy breathing through Ben’s speaker.
BEN: Dick?
DICK’S VOICE: (almost inaudible) I’ll get back to you.
BEN: You should talk to somebody about that stomach thing.
DICK’S VOICE: Thank you, Ben.
Ben shuts off the phone and puts on his sport coat. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out the multicolored argyle sock. He carefully folds it to preserve the evidence and puts it in his pocket. He calls Kelly. She does not answer. This time he leaves a message.
BEN: Kelly. Call me.
Ben gathers his things from the kitchen counter. He can’t stop himself. He calls Kelly again. Again, no answer. He exits.
Cut to:
INT. BEN’S CAR—NIGHT
On his way to dinner, Ben calls Kelly.
KELLY’S ANSWERING MACHINE: Hi. We’re not here. Please leave a message for Kelly, Sophie, or Max after the beep.
BEN: Hello? Kelly? I need to talk to you. I’m having dinner with some money people tonight but you know you’re more important to me. So please call me as soon as you get this. I’m on my cell.
He hangs up.
INT. GIORGIO’S RESTAURANT—NIGHT
SUPER: 9:00 PM
Ben is seated with Johnny the Mideastern slick moneyguy from the office. Seated next to Johnny is a tall Middle Eastern man in his fifties, Aba Peterson. He is festooned in multilogo’d athletic wear. He could be Israeli, Tunisian. An American flag is proudly stuck to his Adidas sweatshirt.
Next to the men are three young women wrapped in tight clothes. They talk among themselves.
JOHNNY: No, no, no … The money is guaranteed. When Aba says, ‘yes,’ it’s like a mother offering her child her teat. It can be trusted. He loves movies. He loves movie people. He loves you.
Aba smiles at Ben, Ben smiles back.
ABA: I love your work.
BEN: My work?
JOHNNY: Rio, Ben, he wants to make Rio.
BEN: Rio? Great, there’s no script yet, but …
ABA: Johnny told me what it is and I love it. I trust you’ll get a good script. The money is already in a box.
JOHNNY: The money’s there.
BEN: Well, okay then.
ABA: Last night, very late, Johnny took me to the Sunset Room.
BEN: Johnny, you were moonlighting.
JOHNNY: (not completely understanding) Yes. Thank you.
ABA: We were drinking with Sly.
JOHNNY: It was a real good night.
ABA: And Don Johnson was three tables away. Now he’d be very good in this movie.
BEN: Uh-huh.
ABA: Can you make this movie in fifty days?
BEN: Fifty days? Well, there’s no director yet and no scr … I don’t know.
ABA: Have you ever visited Luxembourg?
BEN: Luxembourg? No.
ABA: We can get some real, how would you say, breaks there. Could you excuse me for a moment.
Aba, recognizing someone from across the restaurant, leaves the table. Ben looks at the young women, they smile back.
BEN: Where does he get his money?
JOHNNY: Dry cleaning. He started by cleaning the wardrobes for the movie studios. He charged them ten dollar a suit. They pay. Next time he charged them fifty dollar a suit. They pay. Next time he charged them hundred dollar a suit. They pay. He says, ‘I want to be in the movie business,’ I understand these people.
BEN: So does he still have the money?
JOHNNY: Oh, yeah. We can count on him.
One of the girls lifts her glass and proposes a toast. She looks into Ben’s eyes, takes a beat.
LAURA: The past is HISTORY … today’s a GIFT … and that’s why we call it the PRESENT. Cheers.
They all look at each other without reaction and continue talking.
JOHNNY: (turning back to Ben) Hey, Ben. Do you know Tina Mercado?
BEN: Uhhh … Latin dancer?
JOHNNY: No. Actress. Instant Karma.
BEN: No.
JOHNNY: It’s Aba’s ex-wife.
BEN: Uh-huh.
Johnny makes a fist with his left hand and straightens his forearm simulating a hard-on. The girls perk up, they’ve seen Johnny do this before. He gently bounces his elbow up and down on the table and smiles.
JOHNNY: Bumbala, bomba …
Ben’s cell phone rings. He nods for Johnny to continue.
JOHNNY: He say, ‘she cost me thirty two million dollars but she can suck the paint …’
Before Johnny can finish, Ben decides to answer.
BEN: Hello? … Kelly. Kelly. (to the table) Please, excuse me. (into the phone) I’m so glad you called me back.
Ben gets up and starts for the door.
INT. GIORGIO’S ENTRANCE
He stands by the entrance.
BEN: I’m so glad you called me back.
KELLY: So, an actor more important than the mother of your children?
BEN: Yes. It was my fault, of course I don’t think he is as important as you.
KELLY: Ten times you called.
BEN: No. No. I did not call you ten times today. I called you four times … I’m just trying to find a quiet place …
KELLY: What was so damned important. Couldn’t be me.
BEN: Well, I’ll tell you what was so important. I just wanted to … to know …
A beat. He clears his throat.
BEN: Is anyone else other than you sleeping in my old bed?
KELLY: You lost that privilege over two years ago. You have no right to ask me that.
BEN: … No. No. No. I know I don’t have the right, but, but. Wait a minute! I believe thirty thousand a month entitles me to something, I gotta be frank with you.
KELLY: Fuck you.
BEN: I have never heard you say ‘fuck you’ like that to me in front of the kids.
KELLY: The kids’re sleeping.
BEN: Uh-huh. Well, okay, then. Look, can’t we discuss this now. I’ll come over. Please. I’m hurting. It’s very important. I really want to talk to you about it.
KELLY: You’re hurting?
BEN: … yes, there I’ve said it … ‘I’m hurting.’
KELLY: You really are?
BEN: Yes.
Just as the moment gets confessional, Ben sees Dick, the agent with the nervous stomach with Jerry, a man in his late sixties riddled with bad plasticfacial surgery and an eye patch enter the restaurant. Without a thought Ben interrupts his call to Kelly, and spread-eagles his arms out to Dick.
BEN: Dick? Dick? I need to talk to you …
We can hear a loud scream through the cell phone, ‘YOU BASTARD’ as Ben pulls the phone back to his ear.
BEN: I’m back.
KELLY: Get some help.
BEN: It’s a very bad habit … you are absolutely right and I’m working on it. Look, can’t we discuss this now!
KELLY: Not now. I gotta go.
BEN: I suppose it’s not the right time. Yes. I’ll speak to you soon. Thank you for returning my call. It meant alot.
Ben hangs up and re-enters Giorgio’s.
INT. GIORGIO’S RESTAURANT
He gathers himself and walks over to Dick’s table near the entrance. After hellos are exchanged, Ben leans in to Dick to get a private word. There is no seat at the table so he joins them by resting on one knee.
BEN: Did you tell him?
DICK: I alluded to it.
BEN: Alluded?
DICK: Yes. Alluded. Yes.
BEN: A picture is about to get cancelled. What does that mean? Alluded.
DICK: I … I told him I have something very important to discuss.
BEN: Did you tell him what it was about?
DICK: Not yet.
BEN: Oh Dick. We’re out of time. C’mon. No more alluding.
<
br /> Dick starts to gag but courageously manages to suppress it.
DICK: I’m going to do it. I won’t allude.
Ben nods to Jerry.
BEN: Well, sorry for the intrusion. (to Jerry) What’s with the patch?
JERRY: Shingles. My lid. It occasionally flutters. It’s nothing.
BEN: Of course. We’re just glad it’s not serious.
JERRY: If I went blind you’d celebrate.
BEN: Probably.
Ben takes one more look at Dick and wonders whether he was persuasive enough.
BEN: I hope you know that you are sitting with a great ex-agent.
He reaches down to Dick’s shoulder and whispers.
BEN: Dick, just give me one more minute. You got to. (to Jerry) Excuse us.
The two retreat to a sequestered spot.
BEN: How could you call him and not mention this?
DICK: There’s a logic to these things. You met him. The man’s an animal. When I called him today, he hadn’t eaten yet. Wrong time. You got to do this when there’s an open window.
BEN: We don’t have that many windows left. When is the next window?
DICK: After A.A. would be a window.
BEN: When is that?
DICK: Two days.
BEN: That’s no good. What’s tomorrow morning?
DICK: Analysis. He’ll be nuts for at least three hours after that. You don’t want to mention ‘lawsuit’ or ‘beard’ after his psychotherapy.
BEN: Listen to me. I don’t care what it is. Find a ‘window’ tomorrow. That’s it.
DICK: AAAARRRUUGH! Sorry, that was a big one. That’s it. I’ll do it.
Cut to:
INT. GIORGIO’S RESTAURANT
Ben ducks into the small unisex bathroom off the kitchen.
INT. GIORGIO’S RESTAURANT/BATHROOM
Laura, the girl from his table, barges in and joins Ben.
LAURA: I know what you think this looks like but it’s not. Johnny did not send me to make you ‘happy.’ I wanted to meet you on my own. I know everything you’ve done, I know who you are and I’m not some silly girl in tight clothes. I went to Stanford.
BEN: It’s a good school.
They are squeezed together in the tiny bathroom.
LAURA: I just want to get to know you.
BEN: Me … you know me … it’s … What’s your name again?
LAURA: Laura.
BEN: Laura.
Laura moves closer.
LAURA: I respect you and your movies and I know if I did not take this chance now, no matter how aggressive this seems, my chance will never come up again.
So—
BEN: That’s so flattering. I mean, I guess if I were a tailor, you’d still be doing this. Am I right?
LAURA: You are such a funny person. And I just wanted you to know that there is nothing I wouldn’t do to have a chance to see you on my own with no strings attached. Unless you want to do something now?
BEN: Now! Here?
LAURA: Then just call me.
She is holding up a piece of paper with her phone number on it.
LAURA: Open.
Ben opens his mouth and she places the piece of paper between his lips.
LAURA: Close. Try not to get that wet.
She exits the bathroom.
BEN’S BMW—NIGHT
Ben is seated in his car outside of Kelly’s house.
SUPER: 11:30 PM
There’s a couple of lights on upstairs. Ben just sits there gazing at the windows, the argyle sock in his hand. A shadow walks by followed by another. Are the moving silhouettes in the window more than one person? Ben dials Kelly’s number. The machine picks up. He doesn’t leave a message. He hangs up and drives away.
Cut to:
INT. BEN’S BEDROOM WEDNESDAY
An alarm loudly blares. Ben’s hand reaches for it. He looks ravaged and out of sorts. He peruses the room as if he forgot something.
SUPER: 7:00 AM
Ben is on the floor in front of a mirror doing yoga poses when Laura, the development girl from Giorgio’s, enters the room.
LAURA: I can’t stay for breakfast. I got three scripts to read. Hmmm …
Ben is startled and confused, having no memory that she was ever there. She leans over Ben, who looks trapped and lost. She lifts her blouse.
LAURA: (cont’d) (softly) You want to kiss them one more time?
BEN: Uhhh.
LAURA: You don’t remember a thing do you?
BEN: (smiles) I remember offering you a two-picture deal.
LAURA: … and that was before we dropped the ecstacy.
I dig older guys.
Ben sees his reflection. He looks ten years older than the night before.
LAURA: (cont’d) I got to go.
BEN: (relieved) If you have to.
Ben watches her walk away.
BEN: (cont’d) Wait!
Laura stands by the bedroom door.
BEN: (cont’d) I changed my mind. I think I do want to kiss them one more time.
LAURA: Well … that’s the spirit.
Laura laughs, walks into the room, and closes the door.
INT BEN’S APARTMENT—30 MINUTES LATER
Ben, now alone, is dressed in a suit and tie making an espresso. The espresso machine, sound system, and TV are his only accoutrements of luxury in his spare apartment.
Traffic on Sunset is already starting to build up. Screaming kids are playing while waiting for the school bus.
Ben glances at the Daily Variety. The headlines just won’t go away: ‘TOO YOUNG TO GIVE UP 10%.’ ‘TEARS MIXED WITH DARK RUMORS.’ ‘WHO’S GRAVE-GRABBING JACK’S CLIENTS NOW?’
Ben downs his espresso as if it were medicine. He chases it with a Red Bull. His assistant, Dawn, calls.
BEN: Hello.
DAWN: Good morning, Ben. Sid’s office sent an e-mail that he wants the Bruce-slash-beard situation handled before lunch.
BEN: Tell them, I’m on it.
DAWN: And don’t forget to be on time for the Vanity Fair photo. Eleven a.m.
BEN: I know.
DAWN: Quite an honor. Producers with power.
BEN: If they only knew. Thanks.
Cut to:
EXT. BEN’S APARTMENT—DAY
Ben leaves for the photo shoot.
OMITTED
EXT. PARAMOUNT LOT
SUPER 11:00 AM
Ben, dwarfed by the massive soundstages, walks through the lot. He checks his watch.
INT. PARAMOUNT SOUNDSTAGE 32
The place is already bustling. In the center there is a makeshift bleacher in front of a large red curtain. Attached to the curtain are large gold letters spelling out P-O-W-E-R. A small crew is finishing the lighting and placing the camera for the shot. Test flash Polaroids are crackling in the background.
Off to the side are three makeup chairs in front of brightly lit mirrors for those that want to be touched up before the shot. Across the way, ten tables are set up with flowers and candles to serve a formal lunch after the session is over.
Most of the producers have already arrived and are mingling in small groups. Everyone is trying to be extra polite, flushed with the excitement of getting their picture taken. But this is not a bunch of people that are rooting for each other, or for that matter, even like each other.
Ben is getting made up.
All three are keeping their eye on the three-tiered stands which are fronted by three large thronelike chairs. ANGLE ON several producers who have already gathered near the front and center, hoping to get a better position in the photo. Ben and his group decide to join them. They are all now awkwardly bunched in the front row. The photographer’s assistant, Mary, addresses them.
MARY: Hi. Could I have your attention?
All right everyone, I’m Mary. Over on the wall there and on the table are charts which will indicate where each of you has been designated to stand. If you could find your places quickly, it would be most appreciated. Thank you.
Ben: Mary. Hi, it’s Ben.
MARY: Yeah. Ben. Hi. Nice to see you again. How’ve you been?
BEN: Good, thank you. Mary, could I have a word with you for a second?
MARY: Sure, Ben.
BEN: Great. This is a bit awkward but I was wondering if you can make some changes in the placements … it should be set in the proper order …
MARY: (to the crowd) PLEASE EVERYONE, some of you will have to stand in the back near the letter P or R. Just like the chart. Thank you.
BEN: … you know there is a posterity to these photos … it’s important that the right people are in the right place … and I thought … maybe I could make a suggestion …
MARY: I’m not really sure I follow.
BEN: Well some of these people are not really ‘producer’ producers. If you know what I mean. They just add their name to movies … Like this lady here with the blonde hair and the suit. And the guy in the leather jacket with the bald head and the beard … Do you know what movies he’s done? … I thought if I could be over there, instead of there, near the letter W … (he looks at the chart again) In fact, the woman near the W should really be near the P. Or even the O.
MARY: (to the crowd) THAT’S LOOKING BETTER. (to Ben) Ben, Graydon chooses the pecking order, not me. He’s the boss. You know I think you’re terrific.
BEN: I appreciate that. I’ve got to tell you, if it could be put in the proper order it’d be alot better. I should’ve called you yesterday at the hotel, you know, and explained that.
MARY: Ben, last night I got more gift certificates from Prada sent to my hotel room than Gwyneth fucking Paltrow. My hands are tied.
BEN: Got it. Good. That’s not really what I meant but it’s no big deal. Nice to see you again. Thanks. Where do I go?
ANGLE ON BEN who walks by the three throned producers who smile as he climbs to the third row off to the left.
MARY: Uh, Ben. Near the P. A little more to the left … The other side … A little farther.
Ben takes his place under the letter P.
MARY: Good. That works.
Cut to:
A BLAST OF LIGHT and the photograph is frozen in time. As the camera pushes into Ben’s face, he tries to make the most of the moment but, unfortunately, his face is slightly blocked by the taller producer next him.
Cut to:
EXT. STUDIO #3 LOT
SUPER: 1:00 PM