Wonder Boys

This film contains very strong language.

MUSIC: "Things Have Changed" by Bob Dylan

# A worried man with a worried mind

# No-one in front of me and nothing behind

# There's a woman on my lap

# And she's drinking champagne

# Got white skin Got assassin's eyes

# I'm looking up into the sapphire tinted skies

# I'm well dressed

# Waiting on the last train

# Standing on the gallows with my head in the noose

# Any minute now I'm expecting all hell to break loose

# People are crazy Times are strange

# I'm locked in tight I'm out of range

# I used to care but

# Things have changed. #

"The young girl sat perfectly still in the confessional,

"listening to her father's boots scrape like chalk on the ancient steps of the church,

"then grow faint, then disappear altogether.

"She could sense the priest..."

'On that particular Friday afternoon last February,

'I was reading a story to my advanced writers' workshop by one James Leer,

'junior lit major and sole inhabitant of his own gloomy Gulag.'

"She bit the flesh of her lip, closed her eyes.

"Mute."

'James's stories were as sunny as his disposition.

'I was distracted.

'Maybe it was to do with the fact that my wife had left me that morning.'

So, anyone...

'Maybe not. Wives had left me before.

'As usual, James's classmates, aware of the writer's inherent vulnerability,

'offered their sensitive, gentle opinions.'

I mean, Jesus! What is it with you Catholics?

LAUGHTER All right. All right.

Let's try to be constructive here, shall we?

Howard, what about you?

I hated it. His stories make me want to kill myself.

That's not exactly what I meant by being constructive.

Yes, Hannah?

I think maybe we're missing the point.

'Hannah Green, a talented writer who rented a room in my house, and I knew her to be

'insightful, kind and compulsively clad in red cowboy boots.

'I had never once seen her without them.'

He respects us enough to forget us, and that takes courage.

Well put, Hannah.

And a good note to end on, I think.

Don't forget Wordfest this weekend. And those of you who are driving VIPs to the cocktail party this evening

should have them at the Chancellor's house no later than 5.30.

Thank you for that. Is he all right?

I think so. How about you?

Me? Yeah. Why?

Just checking.

Turn off the light, please.

'It felt good to be in the car, alone, where I could clear my head.

'Tonight was the opening of Wordfest, the university's annual three-day gabathon for writers and wannabes.

'My editor, Terry Crabtree, was flying in for the event.

'He alone had championed my last novel, Arsonist's Daughter.

'Its critical success had put us both on the map.

'But that was seven years ago, and I still hadn't finished my follow-up.

'I knew Terry didn't care about Wordfest. He was coming to town

'to get a look at my long overdue book.

'I had to keep him at bay.'

-Ah, Tripp.

-Crabtree, how are you, my friend?

-Good to see you, Tripp.

-Let me help you with this.

Say hello to my new friend

-Miss Antonia...

-Sloviak.

Nice to meet you. This way.

-I invited Antonia to the festival.

-The more the merrier.

Terry was telling me about you on the plane. It was so interesting.

I was explaining what you do as a writer, what I do as an editor.

I sweat blood for five years and he corrects my spelling.

-Exactly what he said.

-We know each other pretty well.

And actually it's seven years.

You know how many times I've boarded an airplane praying some gal like her is sitting beside me?

-She's a transvestite.

-You're stoned!

-She's still a transvestite.

-So, how's the book?

-Er...

it's fine. It's done, basically. I got a little tinkering still to do.

Great. Great. I was hoping I could get a look at it over the weekend.

-I'm at a critical juncture.

-I thought you were tinkering.

Well, I am, but I got details to work on and...

I'm not gonna pressure you. I mean, I get pressure, you know? I get...

Know what I mean?

What the hell in the hootenanny d'you suppose that would be?

That would be a tuba.

Did you actually purchase this car?

No. I got it from Jerry Nathan. He owed me some money.

He owes God money. Including my commission on his faux novel.

Your perfume, Antonia, that wouldn't happen to be Cristalle, would it?

Um, yes, it is. How did you know?

Lucky guess.

'The Wordfest kickoff party was always held at Sara and Walter Gaskell's house.

'She was the chancellor, which meant she oversaw the university.

'Her husband, Dr Gaskell, was the chairman of the English department, which meant he oversaw me.'

Isn't that a nice greenhouse?

-It's Mrs Gaskell's. It's her hobby.

-I thought you were her hobby.

Piss off, will you? I lost a wife today.

Ah, you'll find another. She'll be young, beautiful.

They always are.

Oh, hello, everyone. Terry, good to see you again.

Chancellor, don't you look ravishing?

Easy!

Oh, I'm sorry. It's these goddamn shoes. I don't know how anyone can walk in them.

Practice.

I don't believe we've met.

-Antonia Sloviak.

-GROWLING

Poe.

Poe.

Poe!

Stop it! Poe!

-That wouldn't be Walter's dog?

-POE!

-DOG BARKS

-Who's he barking at now?

-Still barking at me. He's blind.

Stop this.

Honestly!

-I need to talk to you.

-I need to talk to you, too.

Help me take these coats to the upstairs guest room.

I'd be happy to, if I knew where the upstairs guest room was.

I could show you.

Terry?

Yeah. We'll make ourselves at home. Poe can show us around. Thanks.

-That's new, isn't it?

-Walter just got it from the framer.

You first.

HE SIGHS This morning...

I'm pregnant.

I'm sure.

Well, that's...

that's very surprising.

Does Walter know that, er...?

I think Walter would find this a little more than surprising.

Emily left me this morning.

She's left before.

She's left the room before but she's always come back.

So...

I guess we just divorce our spouses, marry each other and have this baby, right?

Simple.

Yeah. Right. It's simple, ain't it?

Is that Cristalle?

Uh-huh.

Oh, God! I wear the same scent as a transvestite.

She is a transvestite, isn't she?

If she's not now, Terry will make sure she is by the end of the night.

Has he asked you about the book yet?

Yes.

And?

Are you gonna tell him?

No. Maybe. I don't know what I'm gonna do.

Me, either.

DiMaggio's record of hits in consecutive games is probably the most impressive feat in sports,

and will never be broken.

-Come here, big guy.

-His condition's so sad.

-But even blind he still gets around.

'I don't drink.

'Normally. But this was turning out to be one fucked up day.

'And now I found myself in close proximity to Sara's husband

'and his dog, Poe.'

-I see you've met my friend.

-She's charming.

'Despite his Harvard education,

'Dr Walter Gaskell didn't have a clue about his wife and me.'

DiMaggio represented, metaphorically, husband as slugger.

Poe had been on to me since day one. DOG GROWLS

..Every woman in some way desires to be Marilyn Monroe.

Oh, I couldn't agree more.

I've had a lot of success...

'Q.

'Q was rich. Q was famous.

'Q completed a novel every 18 months.

'I hated him!'

My finest work vanished in less than five. So I find myself conflicted.

Ask him if he's conflicted about his house in the Hamptons.

-Grady.

-Well.

Q, for your information,

Hannah has two stories published in the Paris Review,

so you better dust off your A material.

You didn't tell me you were a writer.

You didn't ask.

-And the adaptation?

-More literary than cinematic.

Grady? Douglas Triddley. Amherst.

I've had Arsonist's Daughter on my graduate studies syllabus three years running.

No wonder it's still in print.

Long time since Arsonist's Daughter.

There you are.

I could have sworn I had a bottle of 1975 Lafite Rothschild for Q.

Given that he's addressing 500 people in less than an hour...

-You wanna keep Q happy.

-If he's happy, I'm happy.

CLICK

James?

It's fake.

It was my mother's. She won it in a penny arcade

in Baltimore when she went to Catholic school.

Well, that's very convincing.

I used to shoot these little paper caps. But they don't make them any more. It's just for good luck.

Some people carry rabbit's feet.

You carry firearms.

No, thank you. I don't like to lose control of my emotions.

I'm not supposed to be here, in case you're wondering.

But the other night I was out with Hannah at the movies, and she asked me, so I ended up coming, too.

You and Hannah, you're seeing each other?

-No! What gave you that idea?

-James, relax.

-I'm not her father. I just rent her a room.

-She likes old movies like I do, that's all.

-What's the movie you guys saw?

-Son Of Fury, with Tyrone Power and Frances Farmer.

She went crazy, Frances Farmer.

So did Jean Tierney. She's in it.

-Sounds like a good one.

-Wasn't bad.

You're not like my other teachers, Professor Tripp.

You're not like my other students, James.

Look, James,

about this afternoon at workshop, I'm sorry.

-I let things get out of hand.

-They really hated it.

-I think they hated it more than any of the other ones.

-Well...

It only took me an hour.

Really? That's remarkable.

I have trouble sleeping,

and while I'm lying in bed, I figure them out, the stories.

HE SHIVERS

-You cold, James?

-A little.

Why don't we go inside?

It's colder in there.

I guess you're right.

Actually, I saw the greenhouse.

I thought I'd come outside and take a look at it. Looks like heaven.

Looks like heaven?

I saw a movie once.

Part of it took place in heaven. Everyone wore white,

lived in crystal houses like that.

I really should be going.

-Goodbye, Professor Tripp.

-Hey, James?

James, don't go. No. There's something I want you to see.

I'll miss my bus.

It's worth it.

Trust me.

Let me help you.

Thank you, dear. Thank you.

C'mon.

Hey, you two.

-James, are you riding with me?

-I'm going home.

-He's going with me.

Why don't you take Crabtree and his friend? All right?

-All right.

-Where are they?

-Here we are.

Hmm. Well,

hello there.

James,

-this is my editor, Terry Crabtree.

-James.

-James'll know about George Sanders.

-George Sanders?

Mr Crabtree said he killed himself only couldn't remember how.

Pills. April 25, 1972, in a Costa Brava hotel room.

How comprehensive of you.

James knows all the movie suicides. Tell 'em.

-There are so many.

-The big ones.

Pier Angeli,

1971 or '72, also pills. Donald "Red" Barry

shot himself in 1980. Charles Boyer, 1978,

pills again. Charles Butterworth, 1946, I think. In a car.

Supposedly it was an accident but, you know, he was distraught.

Dorothy Dandridge, pills, 1965. Albert Dekker, 1968.

He hung himself. Wrote a suicide note on his stomach.

William Inge, carbon monoxide, 1973. Carole Landis, pills.

I forget when. George Reeves, Superman on TV, shot himself.

Jean Seberg, pills, of course, 1979. Everett Sloane...he was good.

Pills. Margaret Sullavan, pills.

Lupe Velez, a lot of pills. Gig Young. He shot himself and his wife in 1978. There are tons more.

-I don't know half.

-You did 'em alphabetically.

-Just how my brain works, I guess.

-Fascinating.

Come out with us. There's this place I get Tripp to take me.

-I wanna go home.

-Don't be silly.

No-one your age just wants to go home. Besides, faculty will be present. Consider it a field trip.

-Is that really it?

-That's really it.

The one she wore on her wedding day.

So I'm told.

Go ahead.

Really?

Really.

She was small.

Most people don't know that.

The shoulders are so small.

Looks so perfect.

I'll bet it's the only time she wore it,

that day.

She must have felt...

so happy.

Must have cost Dr Gaskell a lot.

I guess.

Walter never tells the truth about how much he pays for these things.

You're really good friends with the Chancellor, aren't you?

Pretty good.

I'm friends with her husband, too.

I guess you must be if you know the combination to his closet

and he doesn't mind you being in here, in their bedroom.

Right.

DOOR CLOSES

DISTANT VOICES

Stay close to me in case it gets slippy, OK?

We better skedaddle.

James...

You all right, James?

Oh,

I'm sorry, Professor Tripp.

Maybe it's...

..seeing that jacket that belonged to her.

It just looks really lonely...

..hanging there in a closet.

Maybe I'm just a little sad tonight.

I'm a little sad tonight, too, James.

You mean with your wife leaving you, and all?

Hannah mentioned something about it.

Yeah, well, it's complicated, James.

I think we should go now.

SNIFFING

DOG SNIFFS

DOG GROWLS

DOG SNIFFS AND GROWLS

Easy. Easy. Good boy,

Poe. Good boy. Easy, Poe.

Easy.

Good dog.

Christ! Get off!

Sonofabitch! Get off!

BANG

BANG

Shit, James!

You shot Dr Gaskell's dog!

-But I had to, didn't I?

-You could have pulled him off me.

No. The dog was crazy. He was attacking you!

Calm down, James. Don't freak out, all right?

OK. All right.

Do you have a mirror? It's the best way to see if someone's breathing.

The dog is dead. Believe me.

I know a dead dog when I see one.

Shit! Oh.

What are we supposed to do now?

First, you're gonna give me that little cap gun of yours.

C'mon.

Professor Tripp, what are we gonna do with...

it?

I don't know. I'm still trying to figure out how to tell the Chancellor I murdered her husband's dog.

You?

When a pet's been killed, the owner does not want to hear that one of her students was the trigger man.

Does she want to hear it was one of her professors?

I've got tenure.

Er, hang on.

It's still warm!

Let's try feet first.

Yuk!

That is a big trunk. It holds a tuba,

a suitcase, a dead dog and a garment bag almost perfectly.

That's just what they used to say in the ads.

-Crabtree, I know you're holding.

-Whose tuba is that?

Miss Sloviak's.

-Can I ask you something about her?

-Yes, she is.

Is your friend, Crabtree, is he gay?

Mostly. Some of the time he isn't.

What do we have here?

This looks like...

It's our old friend Mr Codeine.

That should take the old pinch out of the ankle. Want one?

-No, thanks. I'm fine without them.

-Right.

That's why you were in the back yard spinning that cap gun - you're fine. Yeah, you're fit as a fucking fiddle.

HE GASPS

I'm sorry, James. I'm sorry I said that.

How about we try that again?

'It is a great pleasure to introduce best-selling author

'Quentin Morewood, known to his friends simply as Q.'

APPLAUSE

I am a writer.

APPLAUSE

As a writer,

you learn that everyone has a story. Every bartender, every taxi driver

has an idea that would make

a great book. Presumably each of you has an idea. But how do you get from there

to here? What is the bridge

from the water's edge of inspiration to the far shore of accomplishment?

HE LAUGHS WILDLY

Faith.

Faith that your story

is worth the telling. Faith that you have the wherewithal to tell it, and faith

that the carefully woven structure that you create won't collapse beneath you.

And faith that when you get to the other side there will be someone waiting

who gives a damn about your tale.

I'll be back in a minute.

I worship at the shrine of formal construction.

LECTURE CONTINUES DISTANTLY

Grady?

Grady?

You had another one again, didn't you?

Is the thing...

..is it over?

Almost.

Wanna sit up?

HE GASPS

What's wrong?

Nothing. I just twisted...

Sara, there's something I gotta tell you.

Something hard.

Stand up, then. I'm too old for rolling around.

Give me a hand.

-Well, you see..

-Don't.

-I know what you're gonna say.

-I don't think you do.

You love Emily. She's young, beautiful, your wife. You have to stay with her.

But I don't have a choice. Emily left me.

She'll come back.

That's why I'm going to...

to not have this baby.

You're not gonna have it?

No. There's no way. I mean...

Don't you think there's no way?

Well, I don't see any... If I didn't know what it means to you...

No, you don't. Fuck you for saying you do. Fuck you for saying there's no way, cos there could be a way.

DISTANT APPLAUSE

They must be finished. We should go.

Whose gun is that?

A souvenir from Baltimore.

-It's heavy. Smells like gunpowder.

-Caps.

Pow.

You got me.

I love you, Grady.

Oh, the doors made so much noise.

He was so embarrassing. They had to carry him out.

-Is he all right?

-Fine.

They were going to the men's room, but would they make it in time?

Terry Crabtree and James Leer.

Leave it to you to make that mistake.

Wait here.

-I need a ride.

-I'm your man.

There's an explanation.

Couldn't you have just thrown a shoe at the poor thing?

-Antonia, listen...

-Tony. Now that I'm home.

Tony... sorry tonight didn't work out

-the way you'd hoped to with Terry.

-Forget it.

Your friend is just - I don't know - into collecting weird tricks.

I think he'd call it habit.

But I do get the feeling he's going through the motions.

-Because his career's ruined?

-Jesus! Is that what he told you?

He said he hasn't had a success in over five years

and everyone in New York thinks he's kind of a loser.

But he said he's sure your book's so good that he'll be able

to keep his job, and you're not one of those writers who has a success, freezes up, and never has another.

You can turn here.

Gotta go. I think I may have to rescue James Leer.

Maybe you should think about going home. You look like you need a little rescuing yourself.

SOUL MUSIC PLAYS

-OK, Grady?

-How are you?

Double Dickel on the rocks, please. I'm over here.

Double Dickel.

Is that just beer?

Primarily. Although I gather the two of you staged a raid on the Crabtree pharmacopeia.

Where is everybody?

Sara and Walter declined. They just wanna curl up on the couch with Poe.

Jesus! He's out!

-He has a book.

-Yeah. Started it in fall semester.

-Finished it winter break.

-So, is he any good?

-No. Not yet, he isn't.

-Well, I'm gonna read it anyway.

-C'mon! He's one of my students!

Besides, I'm not sure if he's...

He is. I'm sure. I see myself in him.

I'm sure you do! But it's more complicated than that.

He's a little scattered. He almost did something stupid.

-He doesn't need sexual confusion to mix up the stew.

-I think it might be just the ticket.

Double Dickel on the rocks.

Oola.

Thanks, Oola.

-Cheers.

-Cheers.

Oh, my goodness! Do you see what I see?

Right there. Let's go. You first.

President of the James Brown Hair Club For Men.

He's a boxer. A flyweight.

-No. He's a jockey. His name is Curtis Hardapple.

-Not Curtis.

OK. Vernon. Vernon Hardapple. The scars are from

-a horse. He fell during a race.

-He's addicted to painkillers.

-Yeah.

-Lives with his mother.

-That's right! He's got a younger brother who's...

Who's a groom named Claudelle, and his mother blames Vernon for Claudelle's death.

Right! Because...

-Because...

-Because why?

He was killed when a gangster named Freddy Nostrils tried to shoot his favourite horse.

Claudelle took the bullet himself.

Vernon,

over there, was in on the hit.

That was good.

Yeah. He heard everything we said.

C'mon, Teach. I want you to dance with me.

No.

C'mon.

So I've been rereading Arsonist's Daughter.

It's so beautiful, Grady.

So natural.

It's like all your sentences always existed, waiting up there in style heaven for you to fetch them down.

-I thank you.

-I love the inscription you wrote me.

Only, I'm not quite the downy innocent you think I am.

I hope that's not true.

We need all the downy innocents we can get.

What this boy could use is a nice, tall Coca Cola.

-Let me help.

-We got him. Meet you at the car.

Oh, I see. All right. Give me the keys to the trunk, will you? I gotta my property outta there.

The trunk's sticky. I gotta do it.

Whatever.

Professor Tripp!

When you get James to the apartment, make sure he's OK before you leave.

I would if I knew where I was taking him.

You telling me you don't know where James lives?

Some apartment somewhere. I've never seen it.

-Strikes me as very odd.

-Well, James is odd.

His aunt lives in Sewickly Heights, I dropped him there once. It wasn't even his aunt's house. I don't know.

I need my knapsack.

What's he saying?

His bag. That ugly green thing he always carries.

-He must have left it inside.

-Oh, shit!

He left it at Thaw, the auditorium.

-Knapsack!

-All right. Let him crash at my house.

-Where should I put him?

-The shape he's in, you can stand him up in the garage and he'd be OK.

Grady, if you wanna talk later, I'll be up.

-Hey, the trunk. You're killing me.

-I'm gonna get it.

You're killing me!

You driving this car?

This 1966 maroon Ford Galaxy 500, you driving this car?

-This is my car.

-Bullshit! It's mine, motherfucker!

-You're mistaken.

-Bullshit!

-Who is that?

-Vernon, go home to your mother.

-What are you looking at?

-Looking at you, fella!

Hit it, will you? C'mon, killjoy! Go. Can we go now, grandmother?

-What's with you?

-I wonder.

-The kid was comatose.

-Who started that?

-I was trying to calm him down!

-You calmed him down!

-Grady!

-What?

-Hit the brakes!

-Stop the car!

-Whooh!

-Stop! Hey!

-What's his problem?

-Back up!

Hey!

Go round him.

-I'm stopping you!

-I don't think so!

Whooh!

Come back here!

-What's this?

-One-way, guy.

Whooh!

Go, go, go!

Look out. He's back.

-Now what?

-You owe him a book, too?

Could always drive over him.

What the hell was that?

I just got my hood jumped on.

-Wait here. I'll be right back.

-Where would we go?

FLOOR POLISHER WHIRRS

Hold on a second.

Professor Tripp.

I guess you're here for the backpack. It's Traxler. Sam.

I saw the manuscript inside, so when you showed up I figured...

'The Love Parade.

'So it was true. The little prick had finished his book.'

-Is it good?

-I don't know. Might be.

'So there it was.

'Somewhere in the night, a Manhattan book editor was prowling the streets of Pittsburgh,

'best-selling author at his side, dead dog in his trunk.'

Say, Professor Tripp,

is all that stuff true about Errol Flynn?

How he used to put paprika on his dick,

to make it...you know, like...

more stimulating for the chick?

Christ, Traxler, how the hell should I know?

You're reading his biography, aren't you?

Oh!

No, it's true. He used to rub all sorts of things on it.

Um, salad dressing, ground lamb.

Sick!

'Whenever I wondered what Sara saw in me,

'and I wondered more than once,

'I always came back to the fact that she loved to read.

'She read everything, every spare moment. She was a junkie for the printed word.

'And lucky for me, I manufactured her drug of choice.'

Is that your wife?

No. My wife's out of town.

What exactly are we doing here,

-Professor Tripp?

-Taking the long way home.

-Take it easy, Professor Tripp.

-Thanks for the ride.

Hell!

HE YAWNS

'I told myself I needed to put everything aside for now,

'Emily, Sara, the purloined jacket and the dead dog, and work on my book.

'It had started out as a small book...

'..probably about 250,

'300 pages.

'It had gotten a little larger in scope.

'And the ending, it kept getting further away.

'But the ending was there. I knew it.

'I could almost see it.'

James.

I'm OK. I just lost my balance.

I put you on the floor.

Oh. Thank you.

I thought you might swallow your tongue or something.

-I guess you must really miss her.

-Huh?

Oh, this. No.

No, I just write in this. This wasn't Emily's.

I guess there's a story behind that.

There is, but it's not very interesting.

Is all of that single space?

I'm afraid so. Yeah.

That's a really big book you're writing.

Wow. Hannah always swore you were working but...

But?

Nothing. It's just, it's been a while since Arsonist's Daughter,

and some people, some of the kids in workshop thought

-maybe you were...

-Washed up?

Blocked.

Hm. Well, I don't believe in writer's block.

No kidding.

-PHONE RINGS

-You want me to get that?

Please, could you?

-Glasses.

-Thank you.

-He didn't give his name.

-Who?

-The guy on the phone.

-What did he want?

He wanted to know if a Grady Tripp lived here and drove a maroon 1966 Ford Galaxy 500 with black interior.

-What'd you tell him?

-Yes.

Oh, good, James.

-I just thought maybe...

-WHISTLING

-Morning, boys.

Morning, James.

Good morning.

Jamie, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. I'm gonna take a shower.

HE WHISTLES

Professor Tripp?

-Hm?

-How did I get here last night?

No-one knows where you live, James. Hannah thought you'd like my couch.

And before that, did I do anything?

I mean, did I do anything bad?

Well, James, you did shoot the head of the English department's dog

and steal his most prized piece of memorabilia.

Ah, shit!

Do yourself a favour. Hide.

Hide.

-Morning.

-Morning.

-Professor Tripp?

-That's right.

I understand you attended an event at Sara and Walter Gaskell's house last night.

What's this about?

Somebody pulled a B&E on Dr Gaskell's closet,

and the dog's missing. I was just wondering if you saw someone who seemed suspicious maybe?

I wouldn't say there was anybody particularly suspicious.

About this kid, a student of yours, James Leer. Would you happen to know how I could get in touch with him?

I think I have his number on campus.

That's all right. We'll find him.

-Morning.

-You have a good one.

There you are.

-I thought we were going to talk.

-PHONE RINGS

-Professor Tripp?

I heard what he said.

-What time's breakfast?!

-What do we do now? Just...

-Just one minute. Hello?

-Grady.

-Sara.

-Thank God you're there. You won't believe what's happened.

Could you hold on just a minute, honey?

-Can I ask you something, Professor?

-Sure, James.

Where are we going?

Well, there's a few things I gotta do today.

-See my wife.

-The one that left you?

Yes, that's the one.

-Oh, shit!

-Oh!

Sonofabitch!

-You're bleeding, Professor Tripp.

-No shit, James.

So, where exactly do you live, James?

Not even Hannah Green has a clue as to the location of your apartment.

I got kicked out.

Well, not exactly kicked out. I was asked to leave.

Guess there's probably a story there.

There is, but it's not very interesting.

So, where are you staying?

At the...

the, er, bus station.

It's not so bad. I know the night janitor. There's a broken locker I can put my stuff.

Jesus, James.

I mean, er, how long?

Couple of weeks. That's why I have the gun, for protection.

You should have told someone.

-Who?

-I don't know.

Me?

'James's story was the stuff of bad fiction. Under other circumstances

'I might have wondered where the page ended with him and real life began,

'but I had other things on my mind.

'The Gaskell house looked deserted, which figured, since Wordfest was in full swing on campus.'

-What are we...

-Ease off on that stuff. It's acidic.

I can't help myself. I don't know what's up.

James, you're hung over. What do you think's up?

I'll be right back.

I knew I needed to have a heart-to-heart with Sara.

But until then, I'd just make a little gesture.

-Feeling guilty?

-Agh!

I can't believe you hung up on me.

Sara, I am so sorry about this morning. There was a lot going on.

Walter's a basket case. Someone stole Marilyn's jacket last night. And Poe's missing.

-I heard.

-You heard? How?

A 12-year-old policeman came by my house this morning.

Did you confess? Your prints were in the bedroom.

Really? That was fast.

I'm joking. Hello!

Oh, right, right. Right.

About last night. There's something I have to talk to you about.

OK.

I...

I, um...

I wanna be with you.

Gee, Grady, that sounded so heartfelt(!)

-Really, Sara, I do.

-No, I believe you wanna be with me,

but that's just not good enough.

-I know that. I know what's at stake.

-I don't think you do. It doesn't matter. I haven't decided yet.

-About the baby?

-That.

And you.

I'm not gonna draw you a map.

Times like these, you have to do your own navigating.

Why is your car over there? And who's that sitting in it?

James Leer.

-What's he doing here?

-I'm helping him through some issues.

Isn't he lucky(?)

She seemed to take it pretty well.

Yeah. Well, the moment didn't actually present itself.

-You feel like taking a ride, James?

-Yes.

Humboldt County?

Maybe.

My father, he gets it from his doctor.

-Glaucoma?

-Colon cancer.

Jesus! James, wow.

Bit of a scandal. My parents live in a small town.

-Where's that?

-Carvel.

-Carvel? Where's Carvel?

-Outside Scranton.

I've never heard of it.

It's a hellhole. Three motels and a mannequin factory. My dad worked there for 35 years.

Your father worked in a mannequin factory?

Seitz Plastics.

It's where he met my mom. She was a fry cook in the cafeteria. Before that she'd been a dancer.

-What kind of dancer?

-Whatever kind they wanted her to be.

Didn't you say that your mom went to Catholic school?

When we fall, we fall hard.

I thought you didn't like to lose control of your emotions.

Maybe I just needed the moment to present itself.

-BANGING

-Hmmm.

I had come to the childhood home of my soon to be ex-wife to set things straight,

to say something that would end things on the right note, to make Emily feel better about it all,

or maybe to make me feel better.

Truthfully, I wasn't really sure why I was there.

-Someone jumped on your car with their butt.

-How can you tell?

You can see the outline of a butt. You want one?

They're incredible. Incredible!

Smoke the rest of that joint, you can start chewing on the box.

-Maybe she didn't come here.

-She came here.

We'll just wait.

In the meantime, I'm gonna need you to shimmy right through there.

Relax, James. Emily hasn't used her keys since she was 15 years old. Your hips aren't much bigger than hers.

It's not that.

Just reminded me of what's in the car.

In the trunk?

Oh, right. Right.

Let's try not to think about that, OK?

Thank you.

It feels really good in here.

Yeah, I know.

It's the kinda house you like to wake in on Christmas morning.

I'll be right back. Make yourself at home.

I'm gonna make a phone call.

Ah.

Hmm.

There's no such thing as a good influence, Mr Gray. All influence is immoral.

-Why?

-Because the aim of life is self-development, to realise one's nature perfectly.

That's what we're here for. A man should live out his life fully.

Give form to every feeling, reality to every dream.

'Sitting there among her things,

'I was reminded I didn't really know Emily at all.

'Even though we had lived together as man and wife,

'it was when I left the house, when I was with Sara, that I felt like I was home.'

-University?

-Chancellor, please.

There's only one way to get rid of a temptation and that's yield to it.

Resist it, the soul sickens, longing for things it has forbidden itself.

Thank you.

-Hello?

-Sara? Hi, it's Grady.

Where are you?

Kinship. There's something I've got to talk to you about.

-You're in Kinship.

-Yes, but that's not why I'm calling.

-You're with Emily.

-What?

-No. There's no-one here. I'm just...

-Doing a little dusting?

# Good morning

# We've danced the whole night through

# Good morning, good morning, to you

# Good morning, good morning It's great to stay up late

# Good morning... #

Sara, I am not here... I am not here to, er,

to reconcile with Emily.

It doesn't matter. How you choose to live your life is your business.

# So good morning, good morning

# Sun beams will soon smile through... #

Sara, you don't understand.

Probably not. But I have something to say.

I want you to listen carefully, Grady.

Yes.

I can't wait for you because if I do, I could end up waiting forever.

So I'm going to make this decision on my own.

Goodbye, Grady.

Making a comeback. Gee, it must be terrible to be a has-been.

Don't talk like that. It scares me.

We gotta work hard.

Make a lotta dough for our folks.

Hello.

Hi.

-Oh!

-It's infected. You need to see someone who knows what he's doing.

How would you like some hot chocolate? And fresh cookies to go with it.

DOG WHINES

-He's one of your students, this boy?

-Yeah, he's a good kid.

-He's just a little messed up.

-I'm sure he'll be fine,

with the proper guidance.

So, where's Emily, Hank?

I don't know if I should tell you that, Grady.

I don't wanna stalk her. I just wanna, wanna tell her that I'm sorry.

I'm not trying to get her back. Things haven't been right for a while.

All I know is, Emily felt you weren't there for her,

that she's felt that for a long time. Right now,

she's in Philadelphia visiting Linda Ashby.

For Christ's sakes! They went to Wellesley together. Linda spent

-a week at your house.

-Oh, Linda. Oh.

I haven't been sleeping lately. I got my editor in town. I'm trying to finish my book.

Ah, right. The book.

I hope it's really good, Grady.

I'm having a really good time, Professor Tripp.

I'm really happy for you, James.

Do me a favour. Lay off my dope.

That stuff's not for amateurs.

You're mad at me, aren't you?

You're mad because I shot your girlfriend's dog.

It wasn't hers. It was her husband's.

Who said anything about a girlfriend?

OK, James. I wish you hadn't shot my girlfriend's dog.

Even though Poe and I were not simpatico, that's no reason he should have taken two in the chest.

I don't know. You just keep acting

like a goddamn spook all the time, James.

I guess that explains why the kids in workshop hate me.

The kids in workshop hate you because right now you are ten times the writer any one of them will ever be.

My stuff stinks. You said so yourself last night

-to your friend Crabtree.

-I didn't mean it like that.

What does it matter what I think?

What does it matter what anybody thinks? Most people don't think. If they do, it's not about writing.

Books, they don't mean anything.

Not to anybody.

Not any more.

Arsonist's Daughter meant something.

It meant something to me.

It's the reason I came to school here, to be taught by you.

It's one of the reasons I wanted to become a writer.

Well, for that, James,

if nothing else,

I'm really sorry.

What are we doing?

I'll get you a nice meal, couple of cups of coffee, then I'm taking you home.

-Take me now.

-What?

-I'm not hungry.

-James, you gotta eat.

-I'll use the vending machine.

What?

At the bus station, they have cheese sandwiches. They're pretty good.

Take me now, that way Carl won't get my spot.

Carl?

-Never mind.

-James, go get us a table, will you?

I'm not letting the most talented writer in my class eat some week-old cheese sandwich, OK?

I'm not letting him sleep on some bench in a bus station, so go on inside. I'll be there in a minute.

C A R V E L.

Yes, I'm sure, ma'am. It's outside of Scranton.

You have no listing.

OK. Well,

lady, as we speak, I am looking at a resident of Carvel, Pennsylvania.

I'm sure he'd be interested to learn that the good people at Bell Atlantic have misplaced his entire home town.

It's not like I'm making this up as we go...

Never mind. My mistake.

-D'you wanna bite?

-No, thanks.

That's why you're having them, your spells.

Spells?

You make it sound like a Tennessee Williams' play. I don't get spells!

-What would you call them, then?

-I don't know.

Um, episodes.

Uh-huh. I just worry about you, that's all.

You just worry about yourself, OK?

-Where are you going?

-Nowhere. Stay here and eat.

I'll be right back.

-Good evening.

-Professor Tripp.

-Grady.

-Fred Leer. This is my wife Amanda.

-I've dashed a wonderful evening.

-We were on our way to a benefit.

But the club was on the way, so we could come.

I thought it would be good for James to be with his family this weekend.

Oh, well. Of course we can understand that.

Right.

OK. I guess I'll go get James.

Um, I hope you don't find this forward, Amanda, but might I ask, did you ever go to Catholic school?

Excuse me?

-I'm not going with them.

-Things are a little weird for me.

For me, too.

I know, but I got to finish my book, and there's some...

-I won't bother you.

-Those people there are your parents.

They're not my parents.

-What?

-They're my grandparents. My parents are dead.

The man is obviously your father. You look just like him.

There's a reason for that.

Oh, get outta here!

That's why she hates me and makes me sleep in the basement.

The crawl space with the rats?

-Yes! They treat me like a freak.

-You are one. Welcome to the club.

You don't know what it's like.

You're right, I don't. Don't expect me to feel sorry for you, because I don't know who you are.

Let me ask you.

In the past 36 hours, have you told me one thing that's true? One thing that comes from you?

I just wanted to stay with you for a little while, that's all.

I'm a teacher, James. I'm not a Holiday Inn.

Thank you, Professor Tripp.

MUSIC: "Old Man" by Neil Young

# Old man, look at my life

# I'm a lot like you were

# Old man, look at my life

# I'm a lot like you were... #

Hey!

Hey.

# Old man, look at my life

# 24 and there's so much more

# Live alone in a paradise

# That makes me think of two

# Love lost at such a cost

# Give me things that don't get lost

# Like a coin that won't get tossed... #

PEOPLE CHATTER/MUSIC PLAYS

Crabtree! Jesus!

MUSIC: "Waiting For The Miracle" by Leonard Cohen

Do you mind?

-DOOR OPENS

-Grady!

I know I shouldn't have but it was in the open and I couldn't resist.

No. I just can't believe that I left it out like this.

-Has Crabtree been snooping around?

-I don't know. Maybe. Don't think so.

-Let's put this away.

-Tripp!

Oh, shit!

No, um...don't go. I've been waiting...

Hannah, I'm really flattered but this just isn't...

Sorry. Interrupting a teacher-student conference?

-You're not the most attentive host.

-You been taking good care of that!

Sometimes, we have to improvise. Where the hell have been anyway?

-I took a drive with James Leer.

-He popped the Chancellor's dog!

-What?

-The police thought he just ran away, but Dr Gaskell found blood spots on the carpet.

-Oh, Jesus!

-Most everyone figured it was an intruder, but Terry said it sounded like James.

-Has anybody else deduced this?

-No, not yet, but they will in time.

-You don't even know James.

-Who does?

I do.

I do now.

I spent some time with him, and I read something of his.

-His book?

-Yeah.

-You read his book?

-Yes.

-Is it good?

It's good. It's very, very good. It's...

-It's true.

-Oh, I knew it! So, where is he now?

-I sent him home with his parents.

-What?!

His parents?!

-Uh-huh.

-Why? What for?

Under the circumstances, I thought it was the best thing for him.

I'm beginning to think maybe it was the best thing for me.

I just, er, I wasn't there for him.

Imagine that!

Hannah, don't you remember where you took James that day? Was it his aunt's?

-Yes.

-I told you, Sewickly Heights.

-What was the address?

-He had me drop him on a corner.

-Call the university.

-Little late to call Admissions.

-And the Chancellor?

I don't know. Maybe.

God, you really have made an awful stinky mess of everything, haven't you?

Is that it?

Do not even think about it! Don't go near it.

-That's a lot of book.

-262 Baxter Drive.

They're in the book.

BOTH: I'll drive.

The Love Parade. I got a feeling about this.

-I feel this kid in my bones.

-Only in your bones?

I've had this feeling before.

Remember?

It's been a long time but...

How bad is it for you, Crabs?

It's pretty bad. Bad enough that they look at me like I don't work there any more.

I guess I just don't fit the new corporate profile.

-Which is?

-Er...

competence.

THEY LAUGH

# Down on the highway

# In the valley

# All alone... #

This is it.

'I had no business going to James Leer's parents' house in the middle of the night,

'not when what really mattered was making things right with Sara.

'But we had decided to rescue James Leer.

'I wasn't quite sure from what

'because I was convinced that everything James said was basically horseshit.'

There must be two dozen windows. How can we find his?

I told you, they keep him chained in the basement.

But maybe that didn't really matter.

Sometimes, people just need to be rescued.

DISTANT MUSIC: "Glad To Be Unhappy" by Rogers and Hart

-Rogers and Hart?

-Yeah.

BOTH: James Leer.

-Hey. What are you guys doing here?

-Sshh! Springing you. Get dressed.

Whoa! Well, I love what you've done with the place. When's Captain Nemo moving in?

I cannot believe you made fun of my bathrobe!

That candelabra's my great grandmother's.

Forget the family history, I'll leave you right here.

I heard everything. The parents, the grandparents, the Chinatown thing. I believe you.

That's why we're here. Get dressed.

-Do you mind if I wear this again?

-Wear whatever you want to.

-He's so modest.

-(He's so sensitive.)

Tripp, cut the kid some slack.

These are all overdue library books, every one of 'em.

Our Mr Leer is facing some monster late fees.

I can't believe all his shit. Just once I'd like to know if the bastard's telling the truth.

Hey. Check this out.

"Finally the door opened. It was a shock to see him,

"shuffling into the room like an ageing prize-fighter. Limping. Beaten."

Does that sound like anyone we know?

"Later, when the great man squinted into the bitter glow of twilight..."

This kid definitely needs an editor!

"..and muttered simply, 'It means nothing, all of it. Nothing,' that the true shock came.

"It was then that the boy understood that his hero's true injuries lay in a darker place.

"His heart..."

His heart what?

"His heart, once capable of inspiring others so completely, could no longer inspire itself.

"It beat now only out of habit.

"It beat now only...

"because it could."

I'm ready.

-You all right, Professor Tripp?

-He's fine. Can we go,

before Granny comes down here.

That could be a problem. She comes down every half-hour to check on me.

If I'm not here, she might call the police.

OK. Decoy. We'll put a couple of your pillows under the spread.

Like in Against All Flags. They used gigantic hands.

No, no. I got a better idea.

Good night, sweet prince.

MUSIC: "Not Dark Yet" by Bob Dylan

# Shadows are falling

# And I've been here all day... #

HE CLEARS THROAT

Let's go upstairs.

Bad vibes down here.

Things must have picked up after we left.

Huh, Grady?

# Feel like my soul has turned into steel

# I've still got the scars

# That the sun led me on

# There's not even room enough

# To be anywhere... #

Good night.

BOTTLES CRASH

'You have reached the home of Sara and Walter Gaskell. Neither Walter or I can...'

Hello?

-Walter.

-Grady?

Christ, Grady, do you know what time it is?

Yeah. I got, er, 8.15.

-I don't think that's right, though.

-It's 3.30, Grady!

This is important.

Oh?

I, um, I...

What is it, Grady?

I'm in love with your wife.

Excuse me?

Sara, I'm in love with her.

Are you drinking, Professor Tripp, right now?

No.

Nevertheless, I'd like to see you in my office, Monday morning.

PHONE GOES DEAD

Oh, boy!

-Sara, what...

-I tried to call,

but it seems there's something wrong,

with your phone.

It appears one of our students is missing. And his parents found a dead dog

in his bed.

It's my fault. I'm sorry. I've been...

I'm not feeling very happy with you right now.

Walter isn't very happy. He's gotten the police involved.

They seem to think that James Leer is somehow responsible for all this.

You wouldn't happen to know where James Leer is,

would you?

He's inside.

And Marilyn's jacket?

It's in my car.

-Somebody stole my car!

-Oh, man!

Honestly, somebody stole my car! I parked it there.

-Are you sure?

-Of course!

Christ! Here comes the puberty police now.

OK, OK. I'll deal with this. You go dig up James.

Is he awake?

There's a police officer outside, and he's not going away.

-The same guy?

-Same one.

No offence, Professor Tripp, but you look sort of crappy.

He's right. You do look horrible.

It's the Chancellor.

-We're fine.

-Fine? Right.

-Fit as a fucking fiddle.

-James, come on.

James?

This book of yours,

it's...not bad. Not bad at all.

-Thank you.

-You're welcome.

I'm gonna publish this.

I think with the proper editorial guidance, this could be brilliant.

Ah, that's great. That's great. Between Officer Pupcik and you, he can be the next Jean Genet.

Been a long time since somebody wrote a good book in jail.

Don't you worry, James. We'll figure something out.

I'm not worried. You're not worried, are you?

I'm a little worried, James.

Don't be. I don't care if they expel me.

I probably should be expelled.

Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

Professor Tripp?

Yes, James?

Even if I end up in jail, you're still the best teacher I ever had.

I wonder if this is what the university has in mind when it promises a liberal education.

-Walter won't press charges, will he?

-We'll know soon.

He's going to sit down with the police and James's parents, and he was a wee bit prickly this morning.

You didn't happen to call our house last night, did you?

I think I might have, yes.

What do you think you might have said?

I think I might have said I was in love with you.

He told you.

-He told me.

-And what did you say?

I said it didn't sound like you.

Hey, Tripp!

WHISTLING

So, what do we do now?

Find the jacket.

-Exactly how do we do that?

-I have an idea where it is.

Ask Hannah if we can borrow her car.

Sure. Keys are on the desk.

Your book.

I didn't finish it. I feel asleep.

Oh, that good, huh?

-It's not that. It's just...

-It's just...?

Well?

You know how in class you're always telling us writers make choices?

Yeah.

And even though your book is really beautiful, I mean, amazingly beautiful, it's...

it's at times it's...

very detailed.

Er, you know, the genealogies of everyone's horses,

and their dental records and so on.

And I could be wrong, but it sort of reads in places like...

you didn't really make any choices.

At all.

And I was just wondering if it might not be different if when you wrote you weren't always...

..under the influence.

Hmm.

Well...

Well,

thank you for the thought.

But shocking as it may sound,

I am not the first writer to sip a little weed.

Furthermore, one book I wrote, as you say, "under the influence"

happened to win a little something called the PEN Award,

which, by the way, I accepted under the influence.

Hey! Let me help you with that.

-Don't touch it.

-OK. I'll drive.

Let me get this straight. Jerry Nathan owes you money.

As collateral he gives you his car.

I'm thinking that the car wasn't Jerry's to give.

Whose was it?

-My guess, Vernon Hardapple.

-The hood jumper?

He said things that suggested the car was his.

-Such as?

-"That's my car, motherfucker."

All right. So we find Vernon, find the car. Find the car...

We find the jacket.

Wow! Christ! How'd you know, Tripp?

Ah, I don't know.

-Let's call it a hunch.

-I call it genius.

Good to know I'm still talented at something.

Careful.

Keep that motor running.

I know you.

Double Dickel on the rocks.

Oola.

I never forget a drink.

I never forget an Oola.

Forget me?

-Vernon?

-He's got a gun!

-Who's got a gun?

-You've got a gun. Drop it!

Uh-oh.

-Vernon, relax.

-Why is he calling you Vernon?

Why is he sitting in my car? He's crazy, that's why!

He probably calls everybody Vernon. Drop that gun!

-Oh, dear.

-It's a souvenir.

-It's a souvenir.

-Bullshit! I know a gun when I see one!

-No, really. GUNSHOT/OOLA SCREAMS

-Oh, God!

Give me that gun! Are you crazy? Can't you see the condition my girl's in?

-Get out. Get out!

-Hey!

-HORN BLARES

-Cupcake, you OK?

Tripp! Run!

Who in the hell is that?

-No, you don't.

-No! Don't shoot!

No! Don't shoot him!

Tripp, jump in!

He's a crazy man.

Oh, my God!

I take it back.

Shoot him.

Naturally, you have copies.

I have an alternate version of the first chapter.

You'll be all right, then. Look at Carlyle, when he lost his luggage.

-That was Macaulay.

-Oh.

-Well, what about Hemingway when Hadley lost those stories?

-He was never able to reproduce them.

Look, Tripp, I don't want to depreciate the loss here,

but maybe, in a sense, it's for the best.

You're suggesting it's some kind of sign?

-In a sense.

-Signs are usually more subtle.

-Let me get this straight.

All that paper that blew away back there, that was the only copy?

I'm afraid so.

And you, you say that it's some kind of a sign?

-What in fuck is the matter with you?

-Don't.

All I'm saying is that sometimes, subconsciously,

a person will put themselves in a situation, maybe create a situation,

in order to work out an unresolved issue. It's a covert way of, if you will, addressing a problem.

I'll tell you the problem. You behind the wheel. There's your problem.

Did you or did you not have a gun to his head?!

He was stealing my car.

-Did you have a gun to his head?!

-ALL SHOUT

That is enough!

What is done is done! I don't want to hear about it any more!

So, what was it about? Your book.

What was the story?

I don't know.

What he means is it's difficult to distil the essence of a book because it lives in the mind.

But you must know what it was about. If you didn't know, why were you writing it?

I couldn't stop.

TYRES SCREECH

Vernon, can I ask you a question?

Boy or a girl?

As long as it looks like her,

I really don't care.

Know what I'm saying?

-Yeah. Thanks for the ride, Vernon.

-Any time.

-And another thing.

-Yeah?

-Stop calling me Vernon.

-OK.

-Jacket, Tripp.

-What?

We need the jacket.

Oh. Right.

Oola, about that jacket.