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By chris Date: 2005 Apr 28 Comment on this Work [[2005.04.28.22.04.9497]] |
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Scene I Night. Inky and Benny are lying on their backs atop San Francisco's Russian Hill looking up at the sky. Washed out though it is, the billion-plus pinpoints of light are impressive. Inky has just turned 17. She is slight and willowy and brilliant. Benny is a 35 year-old hustler from the Haight. Since the death of Jerry Garcia he has not been quite right. For whatever reason his talents have been increasingly at the service of his dark side. He met Inky earlier that evening in the City Lights bookstore. She was reading a volume of Jewel's poems when he appeared. Deep down inside, in a place she didn't really understand, she was expecting him... Benny: You're looking at my Heavenly Kingdom, you know. Inky: Am not. Don't tell lies. [distant sound of cable car bells] Benny: Heh... I have LOTS more to show you where that [opens his arms] comes from. Inky: You still haven't explained me why I HAVE to go on the road with you in your ratty van. Benny: My world is vast, and my reasons not yours to know... Inky: Start talkin' or I start walkin'. Benny: Because I'm the Messiah. God. The Second Coming. Et cetera! Inky: More lies. Benny: You'll see, little girl. Inky: Lies, lies, lies. Benny: Shush. Those tourists over there might think I'm trying to abduct you or something. They don't realize we're in love. Inky: [surprised] That's news to me, pop. But I can take care of myself. I'm not afraid of anything, certainly not of you. Benny: I forgive you child. Inky: For what? Benny: For knowing not what you do. Inky: Speak English. Well...it just so happens that I AM going with you. But first you've got to take me dancing. Does God know any good clubs in this town? Benny: Oh yeah... [sappy orchestral music - like Tchaikovsky on a bad day - rises as camera moves outward and up, over the Bay and into the night sky...] Scene II Night. Benny's apartment in a seedy part of the Haight. The Flower Children are nowhere to be found. The crack whores are plentiful. The Summer of Love is over. Long over. They are in bed, making love with the lights out. Inky has just read Benny's screenplay (what he's written of it, that is), and she's clearly disturbed. Benny: Baby [breathlessly], you're not into it. Inky: It's ok... Benny: No. I can tell [at this point the mood begin slipping away like sands through the hour-glass]. Inky: It's...it's that screenplay thing you've written. I mean, Benny, do you think it's any good? Benny: I knew you didn't like it. Inky: I mean...the characters...they're flat. They're just...blah. Let me get this straight: The chick meets this scary speed freak in Golden Gate Park and later that same night they're gettin' it on? [she gets up, puts her shirt back on] Benny: Wait - Inky: My faith is very weak right now. Benny: Ok...listen...Rennie is my creation. Rennie is my Adam. Let me break it down for ya, baby... Sure, Rennie's a thief, a confidence man, a meth addict, possibly a murder, but - and here's the genius, I think - what he never counted on was falling in love. He thought he had all his bases covered, all his t's dotted and i's crossed... Inky: It's the other way around. Benny: Details! Come back to bed. And that's the voice of God speaking. Inky: You rogue... [she gets back in bed. Police sirens can be heard outside the window] Scene III Next day. Bright San Francisco sunlight. Benny is walking down the street to the ratty bodega where his dealer Jorge pretends to sell bannanas and Mexican sodas. Benny is high - but not on any chemicals. He's noticing new buildings on the chaotic, curving Frisco skyline he's looked upon a million times before. There are new colors in the Bay. He knows what wrong with him, too - and he wouldn't have it any other way. Inside the shop, Jorge is behind the counter. He sees Benny and looks up from his racing form. What passes for a smile flashes across his vaguely criminal-looking face. Jorge: Amigo! Do you have a gift for me or what? Tell me it's Christmas. Benny: Man...we've got to talk. Something came up. No, I don't have it. [They walk rapidly into the back room] Jorge: Not what I want to hear. I can see you're not here to make me happy today. Benny: Look...I would've had your money but something happened. Something...unexpected. Jorge: These words are not music to my ears. Benny: Look, man. I had a perfect setup, a perfect mark. I just got...involved. And now I'm fucked. I'm in deep, hombre. I mean, my emotions and all that shit are involved. Jorge: I don't care. Get me the money. I can't believe I spotted you those dime bags just two days ago. Never woulda imagined [gestures dramatically] this. Get your shit together, man, or I'm gonna have to get you. Benny: I know, I know... Jorge: I like you, hombre. I don't wanna hurt you. Benny: Well shit, man, I thought we were friends. You've been in love before...haven't you? [He really isn't sure at this point] Jorge: No such thing. There's getting paid and there's not getting paid. [Benny walks out] You heard me! [He yells after Benny] Scene IV Benny's apartment. Night. The place is an unholy mess; Chet Baker is playing softly on the stereo. Benny is on the bed - a mattress on the floor - reading a Jim Thompson novel. There is a loud banging on the door. Benny: Who is it? Hold on, goddammit. [opens door. A tall blonde pushes her way in, the strap of her bra slipping off in the process] What the fuck?! Claire: [pulling up her strap] I'm Claire. Inky's friend. I know who you are. Benny: Don't point at me. Do I know you? [she walks in, looking hatefully at him] Hell, come on in, why don't ya... Claire: Stay away from her. Benny: What? Claire: She doesn't need someone like you in her life. Benny: How do you know what she needs? Claire: She's told me about you, told me about the kinds of things you've said to her. Benny: Listen... Claire: I know what you're all about - Benny: Get out. Claire: - even if she doesn't. [Benny slams the door after pushing her out. He's confused and miserable. He hates having to push women. Her perfume still hangs in the air. "My Funny Valentine" can be heard in the other room] |