"FRANCES" Screenplay by Eric Bergren, Christopher De Vore and Nicholas Kazan PROLOGUE BLACK. We HEAR the soft voice of Frances Farmer. FRANCES (V.O.) No one ever came up to me and said, 'You're a fool. There isn't such a thing as God. Somebody's been stuffing you.' FADE IN: EXT. PUGET SOUND - DAY On an expanse of water, calm and undisturbed. After a moment, it begins to ripple as something rises toward the surface. A girl's face breaks through. FRANCES (V.O.) It wasn't a murder. I think God just died of old age. And when I realized He wasn't any more, it didn't shock me. It seemed natural and right. The girl, FRANCES, is 16, blond, very pretty: she seems like the most persuasive proof imaginable of God's existence. She swims toward the shore with long graceful strokes... then climbs the steps of the old wood jetty on West Point Beach. FRANCES (V.O.) And yet I began to wonder what the minister meant when he said, 'God, the Father, sees even the smallest sparrow fall. He watches over all his children.' That jumbled it all up for me. EXT. PUGET SOUND - LATER The banks of Puget Sound, dotted with elm trees. Frances sits comfortably in the fork of a tree writing in her diary. Towel around her neck, her hair splayed out and drying golden in the sun. FRANCES (V.O.) But still sometimes I found that God was useful to remember, especially when I lost things that were important. 'Please God, let me find my red hat with the blue trimmings.' INT. FARMER HOME - FAMILY ROOM - EVENING Frances is now reading aloud from her diary, gently swaying back and forth in a rocking chair. An older woman, LILLIAN FARMER, sits opposite on the couch, listening and nodding from time to time. A small suitcase stands by the front door. FRANCES It usually worked. God became a superfather that couldn't spank me. But if I wanted a thing badly enough, He arranged it. ERNEST FARMER appears in the doorway and hesitates, listening to his daughter read. FRANCES But if God loved all of His children equally, why did He bother about my red hat and let other people lose their fathers and mothers for always? Ernest goes to Frances and kisses her softly on the top of her head. She looks at him briefly, smiling slightly. ERNEST Bye, baby. FRANCES See you next weekend, Dad. He goes to the door and picks up his suitcase, glances at Lillian. She doesn't look up. He leaves. FRANCES I began to see that He didn't have much to do about hats or people dying or anything. They happened whether He wanted them to or not, and He stayed in Heaven and pretended not to notice. DISSOLVE TO: INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY Frances stands at a podium. Other STUDENTS and TEACHERS sit to either side of her on folding chairs. Above the proscenium is engraved: West Seattle High School. Below that a banner hangs: "NATIONAL HIGH SCHOOL ESSAY COMPETITION, 1931." FRANCES I wondered a little why God was such a useless thing. It seemed a waste of time to have Him. After that He became less and less, until He was... nothingness. The AUDIENCE consists of parents, students, and local dignitaries. We SEE several shocked faces. Lillian is there also, smiling. Seated next to her is a distinguished-looking woman, ALMA STYLES. Ernest sits on the other side of the auditorium, looking a little worried. FRANCES I felt rather proud that I had found the truth myself, without help from anyone. It puzzled me that other people hadn't found out, too. God was gone. We had reached past Him. Why couldn't they see it? It still puzzles me. Frances closes her notebook and looks up, waiting for some response. There is a deep shocked silence, then a smattering of applause. Lillian claps enthusiastically, then rises to her feet. In the back a WOMAN also stands. WOMAN You're going straight to hell, Frances Farmer! A stately man sitting next to her, her husband JUDGE BENJAMIN HILLIER, puts a restraining hand on her arm. The woman continues to glare at Frances. Frances stares back, dumbfounded. SMASH CUT TO: EXT. SEATTLE STREETS - DAY The screen erupts into violence. A large unruly MOB skirmishes with POLICE in a cobblestoned square. On a truckbed addressing the crowd -- which carries placards reading: "Organize Now!", "Workers of the World Unite!", and "Elect Kaminski!" stands MARTONI KAMINSKI. By his side, leading the crowd's responses, stands a younger man with sharp piercing eyes, HARRY YORK. KAMINSKI And do you think it's radical for a man to have a job and feed a family? YORK & CROWD No! KAMINSKI Is it radical for you to have a hand in shaping your future, and the future of your children? YORK & CROWD No! KAMINSKI Is it radical for the wealth of this country to be turned back to the people who built the country? YORK & CROWD No! No! KAMINSKI Good! Because, Brothers, that's you! The crowd cheers. Harry York gives Kaminski the thumbs-up sign as a banner unfurls: "Today Seattle -- Tomorrow the World." FADE TO BLACK: FADE IN: A TITLE COMES ON SCREEN: GOD'S IN HIS HEAVEN AND ALL'S RIGHT WITH THE WORLD? 'NOT SO!' SAYS YOUNG FRANCES FARMER We realize we've been watching a newsreel. We SEE the SCHOOL SUPERINTENDENT presenting Frances with an award. ANNOUNCER Seattle is in the news again as a high school junior wins a national competition and a hundred dollar prize with an essay denying God. City Hall steps. Judge Hillier and other BIGWIGS speaking heatedly to reporters. ANNOUNCER This prompts civic officials to charge that left-wing politicians are encouraging atheism in the city's schools. Miss Frances Farmer was unavailable for comment, but her mother Lillian -- Lillian stands in front of her wood frame house addressing a small CROWD of reporters, photographers, and curious neighbors. ANNOUNCER Farmer, a well-known local dietician, stepped to her daughter's defense. LILLIAN (emphatically) Frances has not turned her back on the Lord, they're just having a momentary difference of opinion. What child hasn't questioned the Lord's mysteries in order to better understand them? To paraphrase Mr. Voltaire, I may not agree with what she says, but I'll defend to the death her right to say it. Freedom of speech, unlike in the dark countries to the east, still lives in America! And in my home. Among the AUDIENCE in the cinema, we SEE Frances and her father. Frances slinks down in her seat until she's hidden from sight. EXT. SUBURBAN STREET (SEATTLE) - DAY Frances carries library books and a small grocery bag. Her hair and skin gleam in the sun. People in their yards stare at her as she passes. She walks on, coming to a group of CHILDREN slightly younger than herself who are playing in front of a union hall. A girl, EMMA, 13, glances up. FRANCES Hi Emma. Emma looks away quickly, returns to her play. FRANCES Bye Emma. Frances shakes her head as she walks on. MAN'S VOICE Hey! Frances hesitates, then turns to look: A man in his twenties whom we recognize as Harry York, Kaminski's compatriot, leaves a group of men in front of the union hall and walks toward her. HARRY (friendly) C'mere. I wanna talk to you. Frances keeps walking. Harry hurries after her. HARRY Momma told ya not to speak to strangers, huh? (reaches her, grabs her arm) Hey! FRANCES Don't touch me. HARRY I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna talk. She stares at him. He's got a newspaper wedged under one arm. FRANCES (waiting) Okay then... HARRY Well... you're causin' trouble, you know that? FRANCES I'm causing trouble?! You're a pain in the butt! You newshounds've been after me and my folks ever since I won that dumb contest. I'm just sixteen, you know? Who the hell cares what I think? HARRY Not me. But other people seem to. FRANCES Yeah. Well if you didn't put it in the papers -- nobody'd even know about it. HARRY Now wait a minute, sweetie. Do I look like a newshound to you? FRANCES (examining him) No... Actually, you look more like a cop. Harry laughs. HARRY That's rich. Hey, if I was a cop, I'd be packing, right? (holding coat open) You see a gun? Go on, search me. Pat me down. Frances hesitates, leans toward him as though about to frisk him. Their eyes meet, and she pulls away, suddenly embarrassed. FRANCES I'll... take your word for it. So who are you, then? HARRY Harry York. I work for Martoni Kaminski, he's running for Congress here. FRANCES (smiles & points to him) Oh yeah! I saw you in the newsreel! HARRY (embarrassed) Yeah, well -- FRANCES You know, my Dad's done some work for Kaminski... HARRY Now you're catchin' on. Don't wanna get your Daddy in hot water, do you? FRANCES Whattaya mean? HARRY Well... see the papers've got us pegged as pinkos, then you come along, the friendly neighborhood atheist -- FRANCES But I'm not. The newspapers're -- HARRY Right again. You're no more an atheist than my man's a Red, but what they're doin', see, they're addin' up their version of your ideas with their version of ours. Could look bad for your Daddy. FRANCES Yeah. Could look bad for you and Kaminski too, I guess. Beat. HARRY Sure don't talk like you're sixteen. FRANCES Well aren't you the smoothie. Now you're going to ask for my number, I suppose. HARRY I suppose not. Gotta ask you this, though: for all our sakes, you better keep your trap shut. FRANCES Well... I'll give it a try, Mr. York. HARRY Harry. FRANCES (hesitates, nods) Harry. They half-smile, awkwardly, as if neither really wants this encounter to end. Then Harry doffs his hat. HARRY Bye. She nods shyly and starts up the path toward the house. HARRY (admiring her) Sure don't walk like sixteen, neither. INT. COURTROOM - LATE AFTERNOON CLOSE ON Judge Hillier in his robes, identified by a nameplate on the bench. HILLIER These are perilous times. With the economic collapse comes hopelessness and desperation; and people turn to dangerous ideas -- WOMAN'S VOICE I know. The CAMERA PULLS SLOWLY BACK. We SEE that the courtroom is empty. HILLIER Those of us who represent law and order must be vigilant. Who's behind this, her mother? Now we SEE who he's talking to: Alma Styles, the woman who sat with Lillian at the school auditorium. STYLES Impossible. As her attorney, I've known her for years. HILLIER What about the father, he's a little pink. Maybe he wants to show our schools in a bad light, shift some support to Kaminski and those jackals. STYLES (shaking her head) He's no influence; he doesn't even live at home. No, I think Frances wrote that essay with no mischief intended. It was her teacher who entered it in the competition. HILLIER Well, the publicity must stop. It's no good for Seattle and no good for the country. (sternly) Keep an eye on this, will you, Alma? STYLES Of course, your honor. He nods with satisfaction. Two right-thinking people fighting for what they believe in. INT. FARMER HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT Ernest Farmer sits alone, motionless, at the table. Between two candles, facing him, is Frances' check for a hundred dollars. We HEAR bustle from behind the kitchen door, then Lillian and Frances enter juggling several hot dishes. Ernest rises. They set down the dishes, Frances intentionally placing the bread between the check and her father. ERNEST It always amazes me, Lil, how you can whip up a hot, hearty meal out of thin air. LILLIAN I can thank you for that. It was a hard-earned talent. She moves the bread so Ernest again faces the check. As Lillian slices the bread, father and daughter eat grimly. LILLIAN (offering to Ernest) Bread? ERNEST (taking a piece) Thank you. LILLIAN When's the last time you saw a hundred dollars, Ernest Farmer? FRANCES Mama... LILLIAN (pushing back her plate) I'm not hungry. You two just enjoy yourselves. After all, this is a celebration. She leaves. A long silence. They both glance slightly awkwardly at the check. Frances takes it, folds it, and puts it in her pocket, out of sight. ERNEST I'm... I'm really proud of you, Frances. FRANCES Thanks, Dad. ERNEST An essay contest... a national contest. That's pretty impressive. FRANCES I didn't have much to do with it. ERNEST You wrote it, didn't you? FRANCES Yeah, I suppose... Dad, who's Harry York? ERNEST Well, Harry York is a guy who... well, he does a lot of things. Why do you ask? FRANCES He talked to me today. Told me to keep my mouth shut or I'd get everybody in trouble. ERNEST Yeah... well... it's possible. Harry York and I both work for Mr. Kaminski right now, and... well... There are lots of folks in this country who never got a square break. That's the way of things, but Mr. Kaminski wants to change it, and when it comes to new ideas, the people in power get nervous. FRANCES Is Kaminski a Communist? ERNEST No, no, no. All he wants to do is see the common man get a little representation. FRANCES He's a socialist, then? INT. STUDY - LILLIAN - NIGHT Sitting at a rolltop desk. She's looking through a large scrapbook. We SEE articles about nutrition and diet, some featuring Lillian's picture, others with her name in the heading. She listens to the conversation in the other room. ERNEST (V.O.) The label's not important, Francie. What's important is: this country's got nine million unemployed and something's gotta be done about it. Besides: left-wing, right-wing, up- wing, down-wing... they don't mean much. All a label is usually is a way to call somebody a dirty name. Lillian's face becomes set. She looks down at the book. An article titled "Girl Denies God" is there, freshly pasted. She lays a hand on the blank page opposite. FRANCES (V.O.) It's already started, Dad... with me. ERNEST (V.O.) I know. INT. DINING ROOM - NIGHT FRANCES And I can't understand how it can hurt to be honest, but the more I tried to explain -- (what I meant) Lillian appears in the doorway. LILLIAN Don't listen to him, little sister. When you're proud of what you are, you don't refuse the label, understand? FRANCES Yes, Ma. LILLIAN And you... should be proud. You won that contest and made a name for yourself. She stomps out. Frances and Ernest push back their plates. EXT. BACK GARDEN - NIGHT Lillian is watering tomatoes in the dark and talking to them quietly. As Ernest approaches, she senses him and grows silent. She speaks without turning around. LILLIAN You're poisoning that child's mind. ERNEST I have a right to talk to her. She's my daughter, and she's beginning to understand why I've sacrificed so much in order to achieve... LILLIAN You've sacrificed?! If you'd practice law for decent folk instead of Communists and indigents -- ERNEST They need help, Lil. They pay me back in other ways. LILLIAN How? What do they do for you, Kaminski and his friends? They're all anarchists! Traitors! ERNEST (sadly) No, Lil. It's just you can't understand their brand of patriotism. LILLIAN That's right. I can't understand a man who puts strangers over his family, a man who gives up a good career to become a shiftless inkhorn failure. Beat. ERNEST I'm going back to the hotel. LILLIAN Good. ERNEST See you next weekend? LILLIAN As usual. Everything as usual, Mr. Farmer. Just give me my due. Ernest starts back toward the house. He sees Frances watching them and slows down, turns... ERNEST Lillian... I'm more than willing to meet you halfway. LILLIAN Don't make me sick. I'd sooner drown myself in Puget Sound. ERNEST (under his breath) That's a thought, Lil. That sure is a thought. He trudges back toward the house under Frances' eye. A WOMAN'S VOICE comes from behind the fence. NEIGHBOR'S VOICE Are you all right, dear? LILLIAN I'm fine, perfectly fine. OMITTED EXT. FRONT PORCH - NIGHT Ernest stands on the porch holding his little bag. FRANCES Dad, please, don't leave early. Just because of Mama -- ERNEST Francie, you'll learn that sometimes it's best to stay low and just walk away. He trudges out and down the walk. Frances watches him, shaking her head. That is not a lesson she wants to learn. FADE TO BLACK: OMITTED INT. THEATRE LOBBY - NIGHT Opening night. Harry is reading a playbill displayed in a theatre lobby: "1934 Spring Production... University of Washington Players Present: 'Uncle Vanya' by Anton Chekhov." Frances is playing Sonia. Harry turns and enters the theatre. OMITTED INT. UNIVERSITY THEATRE STAGE - NIGHT Frances on stage seen from a distance. FRANCES What can we do, we must live! We shall live, Uncle Vanya... Frances is acting with a nervous young man, CHET. As her speech progresses, the camera moves in nearer and nearer, ending with a close-up. It is as if we are being drawn in by her emotion. FRANCES And then we shall rest, we shall rest. We shall hear the angels, we shall see the whole sky all diamonds, we shall see how all earthly evil, all our sufferings, are drowned in the mercy that will fill the whole world. And our life will grow peaceful, tender, sweet as a caress... (wipes away tears) Poor, dear Uncle Vanya, you are crying... (through her tears) In your life you haven't known what joy was; but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait... We shall rest... (embraces him) We shall rest! Curtains close. AUDIENCE bursts into applause. As the curtain opens and the players take their bows, we SEE in the audience: Lillian and Ernest, Lillian clapping madly, crying, nudging Ernest to clap harder. And in the back stands Harry York. HARRY (to himself) Not bad, Farmer. Not half bad. INT. UNIVERSITY READING ROOM - NIGHT A celebration in progress. Masks of Comedy and Tragedy hang on the walls. DRAMA STUDENTS lounge about: eating, drinking, talking noisily. Bing Crosby is on the record player, singing "I've Got The World on a String." The Drama Teacher is holding court to a group of attentive students. DRAMA TEACHER Art is a constant struggle. Some of you have the will but not the ability. For others, the opposite. I don't wish to be harsh, but only one of you on stage tonight combined the two... The front door opens. Frances and Chet enter. DRAMA TEACHER On cue. The young men rush over to congratulate her. Frances takes a mock bow. She laughs as people cheer. TWO GIRLS observe from the back. GIRL #1 I could really learn to hate her. GIRL #2 Stand in line. INT. UNIVERSITY READING ROOM - SEVERAL HOURS LATER Things have quieted down. The Drama Teacher has cornered Frances and is gesticulating drunkenly, waving a copy of "Voice of Action." Frances is also tipsy, but pays close attention to her mentor. DRAMA TEACHER This is the answer: a subscription drive to "Voice of Action!" First prize is a trip to Moscow! You could visit the art theatre, maybe even meet Stanislavski! FRANCES But I'll never win that. DRAMA TEACHER Yes, yes, it's all arranged. Everyone's collecting subscriptions in your name. And the best part is: the trip returns you to New York. FRANCES (intrigued) Really? DRAMA TEACHER New York, Frances! Broadway! This is your chance! You belong on the stage! FRANCES (flattered/embarrassed) Thank you. A door opens quietly and Harry slips in. He smiles at Frances, who disentangles herself from her teacher and rushes over. FRANCES Hi, Harry. Did you see the play? HARRY You think I'd miss it? FRANCES Well? What'd you think? HARRY (shrugs) I just wanted to see how you looked. FRANCES How'd I look? HARRY (teasing) Enh. FRANCES (smiling) Don't be a rat, Harry. HARRY You looked okay. (glances around) Joint's pretty dead. How 'bout I take you home? She hesitates, looks around and sees Chet passed out, snoring in a chair. She takes Harry's arm. EXT. WEST POINT BEACH - NIGHT The beach is very dark, but the sweep of the lighthouse picks up an old Chevrolet parked near the shore. FRANCES (V.O.) You really think so? INT. CHEVROLET - NIGHT Frances and Harry are sitting in the back seat. HARRY Honest. When you were up there, you were really... there, know what I mean? Everyone else looked stupid. FRANCES I don't know... I did... feel different... Alive. HARRY Yeah, it's a gift. You gotta do something with it. FRANCES Yeah, but if I win this trip, Mama'll kill me. She hates Russians. I do want to go, though... to New York, especially... but I wanted to do it... HARRY What? FRANCES Quietly. HARRY You're not the quiet type, Frances. They are silent for a while. HARRY You know, my old man was an inventor. Spent his whole life down in the basement trying to design transcontinental underground railroads, stuff like that. Well, I was supposed to be his partner. When I told him the smell of his workshop made me sick, I thought he was going to die right there. FRANCES What happened to him? HARRY He retired to Florida... made a killing in vending machines. He grins ironically and Frances laughs. HARRY I kick myself sometimes, but the thing is, I would have been miserable living his life. FRANCES ...So you think I should go. HARRY Sure. Try this acting thing. You can make good money at it. FRANCES I don't know, Harry. I... I want so many... HARRY You don't know what you want. FRANCES Yeah. She looks at him, smiles wistfully. FRANCES Not in the long run, anyway. She starts to unbutton her blouse. Harry is pleasantly surprised, but unnerved. HARRY Frances... FRANCES What? HARRY Well... don't you think it's up to me to... FRANCES Come on, Harry. This is America, land of the free. (whispers) I thought we might go skinny dipping. (pregnant pause... smile...) For starters. Harry can't believe his good fortune. INT. FARMER HOUSE - DAY Lillian's face, distorted. LILLIAN Communists?! No daughter of mine is going to Communist Russia! Lillian is in her apron, canning peaches. FRANCES You act like I'm a bomb-thrower, Mama. It's just a trip. She leaves. Lillian follows her down the narrow -- almost institutional -- hallway. LILLIAN But they're using you! FRANCES Oh Ma, they're not using me. It's just a chance to travel, see things. Besides, it's the only way I can get to New York. They've reached Frances' room. She puts on her coat. LILLIAN I'll pay your way to New York. I'll work, I'll slave. I'll sell my vegetables to the truck farmers, or -- FRANCES (sighs) Oh, Mama, don't you understand? She stares out the window. We see Ernest mowing the lawn. FRANCES I have to do this on my own. You see, I've learned your lesson very well. To do what I think is right and everyone else be damned. Frances turns and heads back down the hall. Lillian follows. LILLIAN I never taught you that! Frances keeps walking. LILLIAN Little sister, if you don't wise up soon, it's going to be out of my hands! They've reached the kitchen. Ernest is there, sweating, drinking water. FRANCES It isn't in your hands, Mama. It's my life. LILLIAN Yes, but important people are concerned about this. Judge Hillier spoke to Alma Styles -- FRANCES I don't care. LILLIAN (grimacing) ...You will. She storms outside. Frances sighs, looks at her father. FRANCES What do I do, Dad? ERNEST You really want to go? FRANCES Of course. ERNEST And you think it's worth all this? FRANCES If I didn't, I wouldn't put you through it. ERNEST ...Then go. EXT. SEATTLE BUS STATION - DAY Lillian has a few reporters drawn off to one side. Alma Styles and a MINISTER stand nearby. A CROWD has gathered. Inside the station, more reporters are milling around Frances. LILLIAN (almost conspiratorial) The authorities tell me there's no legal way I can stop her, but the way I see it, it's bigger than me or my family... (the following is heard faintly as b.g. to the scene below) American integrity, that's what's at stake here. They're sending my daughter to the heartland of darkness. . .the dark forces that would overthrow our country. Your country. My country. INT. BUS STATION - FRANCES AND REPORTERS - DAY Ernest and the Drama Teacher stand at Frances' side. REPORTER #1 Has your earlier denial of God led you to Communism? FRANCES I'm not a Communist. REPORTER #2 But Frances, you said -- FRANCES I said all countries are of cultural interest. Besides, Russia has the greatest theatre company in the world. REPORTER #2 Better than any American company? REPORTER #1 What do you think of Stalin? FRANCES Not much. Ask me about Stanislavski. REPORTER #2 Who? LILLIAN (suddenly frantic, loud) Help me save my daughter! Save the children of America. A TALL SPECTRAL MAN dressed in black adds: TALL SPECTRAL MAN Repent, Frances, Repent! CROWD Repent! Repent! Their cries seem weird, almost deranged, and Lillian is taken aback. EXT. BUS STATION - DAY Passengers climb onto the bus. As Frances is hugged by her Drama Teacher, the Tall Spectral Man approaches her. In his arms he carries a potted plant, a Bible, and a flashlight. TALL SPECTRAL MAN Bless you, sister, bless you. (dignified, as though conducting some bizarre ceremony) Here is a Bible for solace... and this plant to remind you of the eternal seed in all of us... and finally, a flashlight to illuminate your path through darkest Russia. Frances accepts the gifts, bewildered. The Tall Spectral Man stares at her through hollow eyes. She staggers on toward the bus, looking like a bedraggled Statue of Liberty. The Tall Spectral Man sings an ethereal hymn. Lillian blocks Frances' path. Frances looks at her tearfully. FRANCES I love you, Mama. (turns to her father) I love you, Dad. ERNEST (hugging her) Be careful, Francie. As Frances climbs on board. LILLIAN Frances, I'm warning you. I'm gonna throw myself beneath the wheels. I'll do it, Frances. Frances! Inside the bus, Frances stares out the window and shakes her head sadly. The bus starts. Everyone looks at Lillian. She is motionless... Furious. Frances sighs, and the bus moves off unimpeded. There is a homicidal rage in Lillian's eyes as she stares after the vehicle. Then the Reporters rush toward her. FIRST REPORTER What do you say now, Mrs. Farmer? She looks down, her lip quivering. Humiliated, crumbling... As the reporters shout unanswered questions, Ernest puts his arm around his wife and leads her away. FADE TO BLACK: FADE IN: INT. FARMER STUDY - DAY Lillian is happily thumbing through her scrapbook. Her hand runs down the page, and we SEE a series of headlines, with photos: MOTHER UNABLE TO HALT GIRL'S TRIP TO RUSSIA (Photo Lillian & Frances) Then: MOTHER WARNS AGAINST REDS IN SCHOOLS (Photo Lillian) Next is a SNAPSHOT of Frances on board on ocean liner. Then TWO SNAPSHOTS of her in what is clearly Moscow. She wears a Russian hat. The Kremlin stands behind her. Then SNAPSHOTS of her in New York, with a small clipping from the "New York Times": Visits Moscow Art Theatre... YOUNG ACTRESS RETURNS FROM RUSSIA, ASPIRES TO THE BROADWAY STAGE Below this is a magazine advertisement showing Frances in a glossy Chesterfield ad. Her hair is swept up off her head, and she looks glamorous, artificial, very different from how we've seen her. Lillian takes up the paste brush and liberally swabs the opposite -- blank -- page of her scrapbook. A handwritten letter from Frances lies beside her. She removes a clipping from the letter and spreads it out. The clipping says: "STARS OF TOMORROW" and shows a semi-circle of girl's faces inside garish stars. Lillian circles Frances' photo and sits back to admire it. EXT. HOLLYWOOD - DAY We SEE the Hollywood sign in the distance... then CHANGE FOCUS to see the front of the studio... INT. PHOTOGRAPHY STUDIO - HOLLYWOOD - DAY Frances' hair is tightly curled. She is dressed in a grotesquely ruffled white gown and seated on a small stool. Behind her TWO ASSISTANTS fuss with bunches of white carnations hanging on a grid. A seasoned PUBLICIST kneels nearby and a woman with a coffee cup, CLAIRE, surveys the scene. PHOTOGRAPHER (O.S.) One more time. Frances stares dramatically off into space. PUBLICIST Hobbies? The camera clicks. FRANCES Oh, I swim some... play the piano badly... and I read like a fiend: I like history. PUBLICIST No, no, people don't want that. Now listen: you spend lots of time at the beach. You're crazy about dancing. And you're the kind of girl who's just a little in love with love. Get it? Now try again? Hobbies? FRANCES Look, I... PUBLICIST (writing in notepad) Beach... dancing... in love with love. FRANCES (ironically) That's me. The camera clicks again. MR. BEBE -- a tall, brooding, well- dressed man -- ENTERS. CLAIRE Good morning, Mr. Bebe! BEBE Who's this? CLAIRE Frances Farmer, contract player, six- month option. BEBE (an assessment) Okay. Good tits. Can't we show them off a little more? CLAIRE I guess so, sir. BEBE (nods, stares again at Frances) Very fine bone structure. He leaves. Claire stares after him with profound contempt. PUBLICIST (coming up to Claire) Not much to work with. How's this: (reading) 'The most interesting thing about Frances Farmer is that her road to Hollywood was 12,000 miles long. After winning a beauty contest, the first prize of which was a trip to Europe...' She made some deal with the Commies and went to Moscow, but I'm not going to say that, am I? CLAIRE Heavens no. Go on. PUBLICIST Um... 'Miss Farmer returned to New York City and had a brief fling with the Broadway stage before coming west to seek stardom.' CLAIRE 'Brief fling?' PUBLICIST Well, actually she couldn't get hired, but lucky for her, some guy in our New York office saw her. She says soon as she gets a stake, she's going back. Claire rolls her eyes. She's heard this before. The Camera clicks again. Frances is frozen in time. INT. STUDIO ACTING CLASS - DAY TWO STUDENTS are doing a scene from "Design For Living." Others sit around watching, whispering, flirting, sleeping... but Frances is paying very close attention, making notes. The MAN next to her rubs her arm and whispers something. She grimaces and pays no attention. Then she notices, two rows in front, a young handsome student, DICK, who's also making notes. She stares at him for a second, then back at the stage. EXT. LAUREL CANYON COTTAGE - DAY A tiny rustic cottage, dogs everywhere. Two identical old Fords are parked out front. INT. COTTAGE - DAY Frances sits on the couch talking on the phone. FRANCES Did you get the check?... Oh my God, it opened?!, what'd you think? Water lands on her face. She grimaces playfully. FRANCES Well, I hope I get bigger parts, they don't come much smaller. The last line is garbled as water streams in her mouth. She fumbles for something on the floor. FRANCES No, I'm fine. I just have water in my mouth. She finds a water pistol on the floor, picks up the phone, and starts searching for her assailant. FRANCES No, Mama, I'm not changing my name. They can't actually make you, you know? Most people don't realize that. (playfully, covering receiver) Oh Dick... She flings open the bathroom door and finds him: Dick from drama class. A furious water battle ensues. FRANCES No, no, nothing's going on. (fast) I love you too, Mama. Give my love to Dad. Bye! She hangs up, lowers her gun as Dick squirts her. She's getting wet. Her shirt clinging to her breasts. She likes it. FRANCES Okay, handsome. You win. INT. HOLLYWOOD SCREENING ROOM On the small screen we SEE Frances in the arms of a MAN IN FIRE CHIEF'S HAT. FRANCES Kurt! FIRE CHIEF Oh, Angela! Go with these trappers! They'll lead you safely down the mountain... FRANCES But, Kurt, I... FIRE CHIEF No, No arguments. Be my good girl and go. There's a forest, a burning forest, and you know what I have to do! FRANCES Oh, Kurt! FIRE CHIEF Oh Angela, my own... Angela! ON SCREEN the corners of Frances' mouth begin to tremble, but her eyes remain wide and innocent. The Fire Chief slowly inclines his head toward hers. The brim of his hat hits her forehead. Frances covers her face with her hands and bursts out laughing. The Fire Chief looks stunned. She tries to control herself. FRANCES I'm sorry... (looking into camera) I'm sorry, let's go back. Laughter inside the screening room. A small light flicks on, and from behind we dimly SEE TWO MEN. MAN #1 (irate) What the hell is that? What's she doing? LAUGHING MAN That's talent, Andy. MAN #1 (after a beat) Oh. EXT. CATWALK - DAY Frances smiles and eases shut the screening room door. We HEAR the Laughing Man inside shout: "Let's see that again!" Frances puts a cigarette in her mouth and fishes for a match. A man's hand appears, holding a lighter. She looks up: It's Harry, wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt and a Panama hat. FRANCES Harry! Harry-god-damn-York! A real person! Frances throws her arms around him. They hug warmly. HARRY How ya doin', Farmer? FRANCES Me? Look at you! What're you doing in Hollywood? HARRY Came to get a tan. They compare forearms. FRANCES Not bad. But come on, Harry; what's the real reason? HARRY (staring out) Kaminski. FRANCES Yeah, I read about that. Terrible business, suicide. HARRY Since when do you believe the papers? They killed him, kid. FRANCES What? HARRY They killed him. They threw him out that window. FRANCES Oh no... HARRY Eight stories. She stares down two stories to the ground, imagining: FRANCES Jesus. HARRY (also staring down) Yup. Poor bastard lay there on the sidewalk and he couldn't die. Too god damn much heart. He just didn't want to die. FRANCES (walking on) But... but why, Harry...? Why'd they do it? HARRY (shrugs) He wouldn't play ball. What can I tell ya... it's done. (brightening) Anyway, I didn't want to be next, so I skipped town; came down here to work for some big-wig. Tail and nail job. (confidentially) I'm sort of a non-gentleman's non- gentleman. (turns around, displaying his shirt) How d'ya like the camouflage? FRANCES You jackass! (pushing him down the stairs) C'mon, let's get out of here. EXT. STUDIO LOT - DAY Harry and Frances walking arm in arm. FRANCES Not bad. It was slow at first, but I'm doing bits now. HARRY I always told ya, Frances. You got real ability. FRANCES (smiling) I know what ability you're interested in. HARRY Hey, I'm a man, aren't I? Whattaya say we have dinner, then maybe head out to the beach, rub some of this tan off each other. (off her sober expression) For old time's sake. FRANCES (serious) Harry... I met someone. HARRY (stiffens slightly) Yeah? What is he -- muscleman? Lifeguard? Frances shakes her head. HARRY Actor? She nods. HARRY Good. Then it's temporary. (whispers) All actors are phonies. He's joking, but she doesn't respond. HARRY Serious, huh? FRANCES Yeah. HARRY Hey that's great, Farmer, just great. She smiles wistfully, seeing him cover up his disappointment. She squeezes his arm and they continue walking. INT. SOUND STAGE - SET (RHYTHM ON THE RANGE) - DAY Lights being adjusted, cameras set, actors walking through their blocking. In the midst of this we SEE Frances, dressed in western attire, making a point to the WARDROBE MISTRESS, who is listening without enthusiasm. FRANCES (spreading her arms) These creases... I look like I just came from the laundry! I'm supposed to be hiding out in boxcars, sleeping on floors. WARDROBE MISTRESS (cool) This is the suit we fitted on you, Miss Farmer. FRANCES (friendly) Oh, I know that. But it could look more realistic, don't you think? WARDROBE MISTRESS (looking her over) It'll do. No one will notice. FRANCES I'll notice. We HEAR a man conspicuously clearing his throat. Both women turn as Mr. Bebe steps forward. WARDROBE MISTRESS Oh, Mr. Bebe, good morning. He nods imperceptibly. BEBE Come along with me, Fanny. She hesitates, then goes. FRANCES That's Frances. I'm not the cookbook. BEBE (leading her off) You see: We've got to change that name. EXT. STUDIO LOT - DAY Frances and Bebe come through the sound stage door into the light. He gestures to indicate what direction they're going, but remains silent, watching her. She's uncomfortable, blinking like a bird. BEBE I like your looks. You have the classical bone structure of the very great beauties... Garbo, Dietrich -- FRANCES Thank you -- BEBE I intend to make a great deal of money off you. Frances is taken aback. This is all rather blunt. BEBE Since we have you on a seven year contract, I'm planning long-range. I'm going to loan you out to Sam Goldwyn to make a picture called "Come and Get It." FRANCES Really? That's a very good book. It'd make a terrific -- BEBE Never mind that. I'm concerned about you. Your attitude. They hear a ruckus in the distance and turn and look: PICKETERS are fighting with POLICE. It is raucous, brutal. Bebe turns back to her with a stern look: BEBE Society is falling apart, Miss Farmer, and people have to buckle down, do their jobs. You see, I view myself as the Henry Ford of motion picture industry, and I can't have the fellow who puts on the wheels arguing with the man who installs head-lights, now can I? FRANCES But I'm concerned with everything, Mr. Bebe. BEBE (fierce but very muted) No, I'm concerned with everything. FRANCES But I'm the one up there on the screen. BEBE That's right. You're an actress, Miss Farmer and your job is to act. She's about to reply, but he quickly takes her hand and raises it to his lips. Kisses it very formally, like a suitor. Then turns and walks into the sumptuous executive office building. She watches him go. FADE OUT: OMITTED FADE IN: EXT. THEATRE MARQUEE - NIGHT Brightly colored bulbs flashing, causing the wisps of fog around them to glow. The bulbs spell: "COME AND GET IT" WITH SEATTLE'S OWN FRANCES FARMER A noisy CROWD is gathered outside the theatre, straining against velvet cordons. Big black limos disgorge couples in formal evening wear, to the applause of the crowd. All slightly small-town, off-key. Harry, now sporting a mustache, hat pulled down over his face, stands across the street. HARRY (puffing his cigarette) Not bad, Farmer. EXT. STREETS - NIGHT Two limousines streaking through the night. INT. SECOND LIMOUSINE - NIGHT Frances sits next to a faceless STUDIO EXECUTIVE. She's all dolled up. She looks uncomfortable. Silence. She glances up at the limo ahead of them. INT. FIRST LIMOUSINE - NIGHT Dick sits between Lillian and Ernest A REPORTER and PHOTOGRAPHER crouch in front of them. LILLIAN I guess it's no secret that I'm proud. Only twenty-one years old, and look at all she's done. (confidentially) As for her looks, I flatter myself that she gets them from me. DICK Obviously. He winks at the reporters. LILLIAN And not only has Frances come home a star; she's also brought me this big handsome lug of a son-in-law! REPORTER Mr. Farmer, what was your reaction when Frances told you she had married... DICK Dwayne. Dwayne Steele. ERNEST What...? Oh. Well, I was pleased, of course. Richard... uh, Dwayne, is a real gentleman. Dick smiles and hugs them both. DICK Well, all I can say is: I feel like I've known these two for years! LILLIAN (girlishly) Oh, Dwayne! (overcome) This is like a fairy tale! They're stopped at a light. Outside their window we SEE DERELICTS, casualties of the depression, huddled in the night. INT. FRANCES' LIMO - NIGHT She's staring at the derelicts. We feel her sympathy for them. Almost like she'd rather be out there. A MAN WITH HOLLOW EYES shouts something at them. FRANCES What'd he say? She rolls down her window. The Studio Executive beside her looks at her like she's crazy. STUDIO EXECUTIVE (to Driver) Let's go. We'll be late. The limousine lurches forward. Frances settles back in her seat, letting the night air sweep over her face. EXT. THEATRE - NIGHT The two limos pull up, the second emptying first. As Frances gets out, the CROWD cheers wildly. She walks past them, eyes glazed. She doesn't see Harry, who is held back by cordons. Lillian is posing and signing autographs. In her tight, formal dress, Frances looks radiant but constricted. As she walks, voices assault her: LILLIAN There she is! REPORTER #1 (O.S.) How does it feel to be back in Seattle, Frances? FRANCES A little strange. WOMEN'S VOICES Isn't she gorgeous? STUDIO EXECUTIVE (O.S.) This way. REPORTER #2 (O.S.) How's the movie, Frances? FRANCES It's okay. LILLIAN (O.S.) Smile, little sister, smile. Frances sees her mother smiling nervously. They have entered the: INT. LOBBY - NIGHT Again there is a cordoned area in the center where Seattle luminaries are sipping champagne. Reporter #1 lurches forward: REPORTER #1 Can you make some statement about Seattle, how the city helped you, or the schools -- FRANCES Well, the truth is the city had nothing to do with it. I was lucky. And what wasn't luck was hard work. REPORTER #1 (disappointed) Oh. Judge Hillier's Wife, whom we recognize as the Woman who shouted at Frances in the auditorium, steps forward in a garish gown. She's holding a large key. JUDGE HILLIER'S WIFE Miss Farmer, I can't tell you how proud I am to meet you. She embraces and kisses Frances, who's more than a little put off. After the kiss, she takes firm hold of Frances' hand and won't let go. Judge Hillier steps to his wife's side. Lillian also approaches. JUDGE HILLIER'S WIFE On behalf of the Seattle Ladies Club, as a token of our vast admiration -- FRANCES Excuse me. JUDGE HILLIER'S WIFE (startled) Yes...? FRANCES Don't I know you? JUDGE HILLIER'S WIFE I don't believe so. FRANCES Sure. You shouted at me in the auditorium when I read my essay. JUDGE HILLIER'S WIFE No, my dear. You must be mistaken. FRANCES (barely audible) Oh bullshit. JUDGE HILLIER I beg your pardon? FRANCES (to the dignitaries) Listen, I'm still the same girl that wrote that essay, the same girl who went to Russia, and you people aren't proud to meet me at all. A hideous silence. Judge Hillier is fuming. His wife is aghast, the key to the city extended awkwardly in front of her. She shoves it into Frances' arms. Frances moves to leave, but her arm is taken by the Studio Executive, who escorts her into the theatre. The crowd follows. Lillian is utterly mortified. EXT. THEATRE - NIGHT We TRACK along the side of the theatre. An exit door is thrown open, and Frances storms out. As she does, she trips over an OLD INDIAN BEGGAR. She stops and looks at him. He peers up at her with large forlorn eyes... then holds out his hand. A connection is made. All the anger drains out of her. She gives him money, several bills. He breaks into a wonderful crooked grin. She starts away, hesitates, then hands him the key to the city. He stares at it, bewildered. She strides away toward her limousine, which is now parked with several others at the end of the alley. The CHAUFFEURS are talking and smoking a cigarette. Her chauffeur sees her and hurries to his limo. As it pulls into the street, we see Harry drift back to the curb and stare after it. OMITTED EXT. WEST POINT BEACH - NIGHT Frances sits on the old wood jetty staring out at the water, the lighthouse... Harry approaches. HARRY ...It's one thing to marry the guy, but did you have to sleep with him? She cracks up. Harry laughs at his mistake. HARRY Shit. I meant the other way around. FRANCES (still laughing) Well, the studio told me not to. HARRY Is that why you did it? FRANCES Who ever thought they'd be right for once? Jesus, Harry... it's a zoo back there -- HARRY You're telling me. FRANCES Dick... and my mother! She acts like she's on Mars or something -- HARRY Well, she's back to earth now. They're all pretty huffed up about your leaving. I think you better go back, kid. FRANCES Forget it. He looks at her thoughtfully, then sits. FRANCES You know, the funny thing is: it's not a great movie. I mean it could've been, but they screwed it up, gave it a happy ending. And all my friends, I know they're going to smile and say they loved it. HARRY If they say they love it, they'll probably love it. Not everybody lies, you know? FRANCES (warmly, to him) No, they don't, do they? Beat. HARRY Frances, you're a movie star now. If you give them what they want, you can get anything. FRANCES I don't have what they want, Harry. (stares at the water) Harry, will you tell me something? How can I keep making movies when people in the streets are starving? HARRY Some people starve, kid. Until we can do something about it, they might as well see a movie. Makes 'em feel better. FRANCES But I don't want to be like that. I want to do something... (important) HARRY What're you gonna do, waste your talent? Why not use it to make something worthwhile. You can do that, you know? FRANCES (laughs) Yeah, if I don't make too big an ass of myself. They start to walk now along the beach. We see Harry's car and the chauffeured limousine parked above. HARRY Tell you what. Let's ditch the limo. Let me drive you up to that red carpet in my beat up Chevy. FRANCES The hell you will, Harry York. HARRY Come on, Cinderella, your pumpkin awaits. She shakes her head mischievously... moves backward unbuttoning her coat. FRANCES (like a clock striking) Bong... bong... bong... The coat falls. HARRY Don't start, Farmer. FRANCES (dropping her scarf) It's midnight, Harry. My glittering raiments are dissolving. HARRY (nervously) The chauffeur. He's watching. FRANCES He deserves a show. He missed the movie. HARRY I'm serious, Frances. This is important. FRANCES (kicking off a shoe) I know. She kicks off another shoe, sailing it into the water. Frances is zipping off her dress. Harry bends to pick up the first shoe. FRANCES A single glass slipper left glittering on the pearly sands. Who was that girl, anyway? Harry watches her, mesmerized. The dress is off. FRANCES 'Come and get it,' Harry. She skips off down the beach, her dress strewn on the sands. After a moment, from the darkness, we SEE her underclothes fly into view. Harry can restrain himself no longer. HARRY (excited) Hot damn! He drops the shoe and runs after her, tearing off his clothes. After a moment, from the darkness, we hear her squeals of laughter. EXT. STUDIO - HOLLYWOOD - DAY The street outside the Studio Main Gate. Actors, directors, etc. arrive in their shiny expensive autos. Among them is Frances in her old battered Ford. She waves to the Guard and drives through. EXT. STUDIO LOT - DAY As Frances pulls into her parking space, Claire, the woman from the photo session, strolls up. CLAIRE Hi Frances, got a minute? FRANCES Sure, Claire. If you don't mind walking my way. They walk toward the dressing room. CLAIRE (nervous) Well, I suppose I should just say it. It's your clothes. FRANCES (bewildered) My clothes? CLAIRE Yeah, I mean slacks... and work clothes... and that awful car -- FRANCES It's a perfectly good car. It runs. CLAIRE Yes, but... Really, I hate to sound... it's just that the public expects something different from its stars. People won't take you seriously. FRANCES I don't care if my clothes are taken seriously. Or my car. CLAIRE You know what I mean. FRANCES Uh-huh. You mean what if the public finds out I perspire? And wear slacks. And drive an old jalopy? What if they find out I'm a real person. Oh no! Say it ain't so! Not a real person! Claire is laughing. They go inside. INT. FRANCES' DRESSING ROOM - DAY Posh, fit for a star. Frances smiles at the MAKEUP MAN. FRANCES Morning, Eddie. As Frances sits at the table and Eddie goes to work: CLAIRE That's not all, Frances. Mr. Bebe is very concerned about your politics. He hears you've been donating money, speaking at rallies. FRANCES Yup. Claire... please, please tell Mr. Bebe that if he worried half as much about his scripts as he does about my private life, we'd make a lot better movies. CLAIRE I'm sorry, Frances. It's my job, you know? FRANCES I know. (imitating Bebe) 'This is a factory and we each have our jobs. The writer writes, the director directs, and the actress...' CLAIRE (laughing) ...acts. I'll relay your message. INT. FRANCES AND DICK'S COTTAGE - NIGHT Dick is talking on the phone in the living room. DICK Yes, of course she'll make a statement on women's rights. Call back tomorrow, okay? He hangs up. Immediately the phone rings again. He stares at it wearily, then answers: DICK (pointedly) Dwayne Steele's residence. Through the half-open door to the bedroom we see Frances dozing, an open script laid out beside her. DICK Yes. (confused) What...? (hurt) Yes. Yes, I'll tell her. He hangs up. Stares off. Slowly enters the bedroom. Frances looks up. DICK You learn your lines? FRANCES (nods drowsily) Sort of. DICK There've been some calls. FRANCES Who? DICK Well... about half an hour ago that woman from the talent department called, what's her name? FRANCES Claire? DICK Yeah, Claire. She said she was fired. Too bad, huh? FRANCES (apprehensively) Fired? DICK Yeah. She said she delivered your message and that you'd understand. Frances looks stricken. Dick presses on. DICK There was another call too. From your agent. He says your summer stock deal is all set. So you're going back east, huh? FRANCES ...Yes. DICK Without me. FRANCES (sighing) Showdown. DICK You weren't going to tell me, were you? Just pack up and leave, is that it? FRANCES Dick, we need some time apart -- DICK Hey, I'm not a complete fool, you know. I can see you're going sour on me, and when I try to do something about it, you turn your back and say it's nothing. FRANCES Dick, I can't even breathe here... DICK Dwayne! I'm Dwayne now! And you damn well better get used to it! FRANCES (softly, remembering) Dick... DICK I don't suppose it occurred to you that I might want to leave too, that I might want to do theatre? No, 'cause you don't want me along, do you? And the reason has nothing to do with summer stock. FRANCES No? DICK No. It's all about that night, isn't it? FRANCES (bewildered) What night? DICK The premiere. I never pressed you about it but god damn it, you're gonna tell me right here and right now what happened and where the hell you were! FRANCES (quietly) You want his name? Dick is crumbling inside. DICK What...? We watch it sink in. Confusion... self-pity... building gradually to resentment and rage. He starts to throw a tantrum. Hurling things around the room. Frances just sits there. FRANCES My God... I think you're overplaying this a bit...? He hurls a pillow against the wall and rushes out. Frances looks after him, then turns. She's now facing the bureau. FRANCES Goodbye, Dick. A mirror sits on top of the bureau. She looks into it. Doesn't like her expression. Turns the mirror away. FADE OUT: OMITTED FADE IN: INT. THEATRE LOBBY - NIGHT A playbill in a theatre lobby reads: "Mt. Kisco Playhouse, 1937 Summer Season: 'THE PETRIFIED FOREST'." Among the names listed is: "Frances Farmer, the 'Come And Get It' Girl. Suddenly we HEAR an eruption of applause. INT. THEATRE - AUDIENCE - NIGHT TIGHT SHOT on two men: HAROLD CLURMAN -- a thoughtful aristocratic man -- and CLIFFORD ODETS, who is taller, slimmer, with black hair and intense dark eyes. Around them we see (mostly HEAR) the AUDIENCE going crazy, leaping to its feet, yelling "Bravo! Bravo!" Clurman and Odets sit impassively. As the hurrahs die down and the audience files out, the two men sit there. Finally Clurman turns to Odets. Odets nods very slightly. INT. DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT Frances sits in the cramped room, listening intently to Clurman. Occasionally she sneaks a glance at Odets, who is pacing like some caged beast. CLURMAN The Group is more than a theatre company. It's the embodiment of an ideal. Our approach allows the actor to be an artist in the fullest sense, a creative individual and an instrument of change. You see -- FRANCES (watching Odets) Really, Mr. Clurman, you don't have to sell me. CLURMAN Forgive my indulgence. Seems we always lecture those who are on time for those who are tardy. The point is, Mr. Odets here has written a wonderful play. Most of the roles are cast, but we haven't found our female lead... FRANCES Who is she? ODETS She's a tramp from Newark. CLURMAN Forgive me, but I think you'd be perfect for the part. Odets is pacing furiously, seizing their attention. He stops, looks at her, then resumes. ODETS Miss Farmer, for me this is not a play: it's an assault... a seduction... a plea for understanding. I think we live in a time when new art works should shoot bullets... and you make very attractive ammunition. He stops. Tentatively, almost boyishly, he smiles. She returns it. She's charmed. FRANCES And what's the title of this seduc... assault? ODETS (mysterious, intimate) 'Golden Boy.' EXT. BELASCO THEATRE MARQUEE - NIGHT It reads "Golden Boy". Crowds of people streaming out of the lobby. A sign over the box office reads: "Tomorrow's performances sold out." Odets sits on the curb. Behind him the lights in the theatre lobby flicker off. PEDESTRIANS stroll by: an odd mix of affluent theatre crowd and 1930s bums. Frances emerges from the theatre, sees him sitting there. Sits beside him. FRANCES Hi. He nods. FRANCES You wanted to talk? Another nod. He's silent. He peers up the street. A GIRL, 16, selling pencils catches his eye. ODETS You see that girl? She looks like a waif: tough, vulnerable, pleading with a WEALTHY COUPLE, following them down the street. A drama being played out in the distance, out of earshot. ODETS That's who my play is about. Frances watches the girl. FRANCES That's me, Clifford. ODETS (strong) I know, but I'm not seeing it. It's there, Frances, the fire is there, but it's not coming through. You're lazy -- INT. WORKING CLASS BAR - LATER The same conversation continuing: FRANCES I'm not! ODETS Yes, you win them, you bring them into your heart, touch them, but you don't set them on fire! FRANCES But I want to. I'm trying! ODETS I need an incendiary! An arsonist! FRANCES Then show me! That's what I'm here for, to learn, to grow! ODETS Good. Then it's very simple. You have to stop being afraid, Frances. It's in you. EXT. PLATFORM - SPANISH EMBASSY - DAY Clurman is delivering a speech in the background as PHOTOGRAPHERS snap pictures. Behind them on the platform Frances and Odets continue their conversation in whispers: ODETS I can see it. You just have to let it out. Trust it. No one will quash you here, but it's still a fight, a struggle! Being true to your art, being honest, is always a struggle! We now HEAR Clurman's speech. The initial words below were background to the above. What we HEAR now is underlined: CLURMAN ...Not only an artist, but an instrument of change. We must look to the world around us, not content to observe, but to take an active hand in redressing its wrongs. We will not stand idly by as Fascist bombs obliterate democracy. We contribute our profits, for if fascism is not stopped in Spain, it will spread across Europe, jeopardizing the struggle of civilized man to survive. (presenting check to SPANISH CONSUL) The artist, to be vital, must be a soldier too. FRANCES I'm not afraid of struggle, Clifford. CLIFFORD Yes you are. We all are. The first step is to acknowledge our fear. EXT. NEW YORK CITY STREETS - NIGHT They're walking. The conversation continues. CLIFFORD Face it! Confess it! You're weak! FRANCES I'm not! CLIFFORD You're afraid! FRANCES I'm not! CLIFFORD You don't want to show your whole soul -- ugly, mis-shapen, and pitiful -- you don't want to show it -- FRANCES (angry) God damn it, Clifford, will you shut up! I tell you, I want to give these things! I want to give them to the audience, and I can give them, I will give them, so shut up! She is seething. Gorgeous. Alive. He smiles, watching her. CLIFFORD Good, good. Give them that. FRANCES What? As she feels the anger coursing through her body she realizes what he's talking about. She looks at him, still breathing heavily. Gradually her face turns toward a smile. He reaches out and, with exquisite tenderness, kisses her. INT. ODETS' APARTMENT - NIGHT Later. They enter slightly drunk, laughing. He takes her coat. CLIFFORD Madam...? FRANCES Thank you. She's looking at the apartment. He sees her. A dark thought flickers across his face, and he breaks into an exaggerated act: CLIFFORD Oh my God! Frances, I'm such a cad. I can't go through with this. My wife is in Europe, but this is her house... (gesturing off) her bedroom. I can't ask you to... FRANCES (playing along) Oh well. I guess I better leave then. She starts to put on her coat. He watches her. CLIFFORD Okay, but come here first. FRANCES Huh. CLIFFORD (Leading her down hall) Come here. I want to show you something. He opens the bedroom door. INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT The bed is drawn back, and the sheets are sprinkled with rose petals. Frances' eyes are large. The kiss is very hungry now. INT. BEBE'S PANELLED OFFICE - HOLLYWOOD - DAY Bebe's huge desk. Variety Headline: "ACTRESS FIGHTS FASCISM!" Next to the newspaper are a dozen pencils which Bebe is lining up precisely parallel. His expression is totally obsessive, crazed. Behind him a woman (TORA) is cutting his hair. A STUDIO LAWYER paces nearby. LAWYER And on top of her political activities, now she's got a lawyer. She wants out of her contract, Mr. Bebe. She says she's through with motion pictures. BEBE (muttering) I'm sure it wasn't me, it wasn't me... LAWYER Excuse me, sir? BEBE I don't know who she fucked to get where she is, but I don't think it was me. Tora is massaging the back of Bebe's neck. He's oblivious. LAWYER (startled) Well... you could always dump her, Mr. Bebe. Teach her a lesson. There are a million beautiful girls out there who don't give a damn about politics. BEBE That's not the point. Frances Farmer has the world by the tit because of this studio, and now she thinks she can waltz off without a thank you. No. No, that young lady has a contract, and she's going to honor it. LAWYER Oh. I mean, good. BEBE I think it's time to take the gloves off. (scowls, speaks into intercom) Get me some reporters. (afterthought) Particularly Louella Parsons! During this conversation, Bebe has been drawing on the Variety. We now see his work. Beneath the headline was a photo of Frances, on whom Bebe has drawn a mustache. CUT TO: OMITTED EXT. BELASCO THEATRE - NIGHT The marquee for "Golden Boy" reads "Held Over". USHERS are opening the glass doors from the empty lobby onto the street. We HEAR thunderous applause from the inside. EXT. BACKSTAGE DOOR - ALLEY - NIGHT Frances emerges from the stage door to a throng of AUTOGRAPH SEEKERS. She smiles tiredly, but good-naturedly complies. A little ways back stands a boyish YOUNG MAN holding a single red carnation. When the Autograph-seekers are satisfied and all but a few have trailed away, the Young Man steps forward. YOUNG MAN Miss Farmer... I've never done this before... but... I had to tell ya' you're great! He shyly hands her the flower. FRANCES Thank you very much. I'm glad you liked the play. She smiles and begins to walk away. The Young Man follows her. YOUNG MAN I'm really sad it's closing. Now what am I gonna do on Tuesday nights? FRANCES You can always come see it in London. YOUNG MAN Only if you were in it. Are you? FRANCES I wouldn't miss it. YOUNG MAN Boy, I'd love to... but I'm going to Hollywood. FRANCES (smiling) Are you an actor? YOUNG MAN Hell yes!... well, okay, I'm still in school. But as soon as I graduate... California, here I come! FRANCES (after a pause) Are you really serious? About acting? YOUNG MAN Why... yes. FRANCES Then don't go to Hollywood. YOUNG MAN Why? FRANCES I'm telling you straight, if you have any serious ambitions, stay clear of the place. It'll crush you. YOUNG MAN You sound as if you hate it. FRANCES No, I don't hate it. Again she walks on. He follows. YOUNG MAN Aren't you ever going back? FRANCES ...Not if I can help it. YOUNG MAN Gosh! You'll break a lot of hearts. FRANCES They'll mend. YOUNG MAN (after a pause) What about your husband? Frances stops walking, her eyes shoot to the Young Man's face. FRANCES What? YOUNG MAN Will you be getting back together? When you quit Hollywood, I mean. FRANCES What is this? The Young Man suddenly seems much older, and there is no sign of the awkward boyishness. YOUNG MAN Is it true you're getting a divorce? Comrade? FRANCES Why, you... you little bastard! The Young Man grins. YOUNG MAN Thanks for our chat, Miss Farmer. Be seeing you. He begins to walk away. FRANCES Just one minute... YOUNG MAN (turning) You're wasting your time, lady. Nothing's off the record with me. He is gone. OMITTED INT. WORKING CLASS BAR - NIGHT Odets sits at a table in back, drinking and writing in a notebook. Frances comes up to him. He smiles, draws her to him for a hug. ODETS How'd it go? She hesitates, still affected by the incident outside the theatre. FRANCES 'But how do I know you love me?' ODETS Your big speech? FRANCES 'How do I know it's true? You'll get to be the champ. They'll all want you, all the girls! But I don't care. I've been undersea a long time. When they'd put their hands on me I used to say, "This isn't it! This isn't what I mean!" It's been a mysterious world for me! But Joe, I think you're it! I don't know why, I think you're it. Take me home with you.' ODETS (smiling) I already have. She nods, turns her back to him. FRANCES How's it sound? ODETS The speech? Real good. FRANCES You think I got it? ODETS You got it. FRANCES Yeah. Yeah, tonight I think I got it. She is crying. OMITTED INT. ODETS' APARTMENT - DAY Frances comes in the front door with a bag of groceries, removes her key. Walks into the living room, stops short. Clurman is sitting on the couch, a bottle and two glasses in front of him. FRANCES Hello, Harold. CLURMAN (nodding) Frances. FRANCES (looking around) Where's Clifford? CLURMAN He's not here. FRANCES Oh. She sits. CLURMAN Bourbon? He pours. She drinks hers, watching him. FRANCES What's up? CLURMAN I hear you're meeting with the studio lawyers to get out of your contract. FRANCES That's right. I don't want them breathing down my neck while we're in London. CLURMAN Well... well, you see, that's the point. You won't be opening in London. Frances looks like she's been punched in the stomach. FRANCES (insecure) You don't think I'm good enough? CLURMAN What?! Good Lord no, it's just... It's money. We needed backing and... well, we found it. FRANCES Who? CLURMAN An actress. FRANCES A rich actress. CLURMAN Yes. That's the deal. She plays Lorna. FRANCES (growing angry) But... but wait a minute. We're supposed to be different, right? Clifford says... This theatre is supposed to be different! And this play... this play is all about what greed and money do to people! CLURMAN I know, but -- FRANCES (over his line) What does Clifford say? CLURMAN Right now we have to be practical. FRANCES Does Clifford even know? (off his silence) You didn't tell him, did you? (standing) I'm gonna tell him. Where is he? CLURMAN He knows, Frances. She collapses back into her seat. Her head is swirling. CLURMAN (gently) He approved it. She's glaring at him. He hands her a letter. CLURMAN I'm very sorry, but... well, Hollywood wants you back, right? Her eyes fill with rage. She hurls her drink in his face. FRANCES Prick! He stands and, with as much dignity as he can muster, leaves. Frances is shaking. She rips open the letter he gave her. Stares at it in horror... OMITTED INT. BOOKIE JOINT - DAY Plain room. A few tables with phones, men on the phones writing down numbers. Behind them are blackboards with horses' names and prices. Off to one side Harry is conferring with the OWNER. HARRY Of course it can be done, "Mr. Jones," but it's how you do it. There's a way to pay off L.A. cops and a way to get yourself arrested. First you gotta know who to approach -- A Man at one of the phones looks up, calls. MAN AT PHONE You Harry York? Harry nods, startled. The Man at the table holds up the phone and goes to his next call. Harry takes the phone. OMITTED INT. ODETS' APARTMENT - NEW YORK - NIGHT Frances on the phone. A half-packed bag lies on the bed. A bottle and glass sit beside her. She's been crying and drinking. FRANCES Harry? Harry, where are you?! HARRY (V.O.) Jesus, Frances, how'd you find me? FRANCES I called your god-damned office! I want you to kill him, Harry. You'll do that for me, won't you? I loved him, I loved him... that bastard. OMITTED INT. BOOKIE'S OFFICE - NIGHT HARRY Calm down, Frances. FRANCES (V.O.) Don't tell me what to do, just give me his head on a platter! OMITTED INT. ODETS' APARTMENT - NEW YORK - NIGHT Frances unfolds the crumpled letter Clurman gave her. FRANCES Two lines! Two fucking lines! 'My wife returns from Europe tomorrow. I can't see you any more.' Just like that! HARRY (V.O.) Frances... FRANCES (sobbing) Harry, I hate being in love. I don't ever want to be in love again. I just hate it! OMITTED INT. BOOKIE JOINT - DAY With the patter of the bookie taking bets beside him, Harry listens to Frances' sobs. HARRY I know, Frances... I know. He HEARS a CLICK on the other end. He hangs up and heaves a long slow sigh. FADE OUT: FADE IN: INT. SOUND STAGE - FLOWING GOLD SET - DAY Frances, in a pair of overalls, falls face down into mud. INT. SOUND STAGE - FLOWING GOLD SET - LATER We SEE the slate: 'Flowing Gold', Scene 31A, Take 11... then the same action is repeated from a slightly different angle. Next to her is an old car, its wheels mired in mud. INT. SOUND STAGE - FLOWING GOLD SET - LATER Slate: Take 12. She falls again, this time splattering mud all over her face and hair. She lies still for a moment, gritting her teeth. Sitting comfortably in a nearby director's chair is a DIRECTOR reading Daily Variety. The headline reads: "STUDIO WINS FARMER WAR ON HOLLYWOOD." Behind the Director, off to one side, stands Bebe. The A.D. tugs on the Director's sleeve: A.D. How was that? DIRECTOR (looking up) Good, good. One more time. FRANCES (standing) For God's sake... why? DIRECTOR Because we want to get it perfect... just the right combination of fury and confusion. You can understand that, can't you, Miss Farmer? We're serious artists here, right? Right. The Director glances toward Bebe, who nods with satisfaction. Frances watches this interaction. She hesitates, then approaches Bebe. She wipes some mud from her face and drops it at her feet. FRANCES Look, Mr. Bebe, you can hold me to my contract, but you can't break me. I'm back, and I'm gonna make the best of it. BEBE (somewhat snidely) I'd like nothing better. She turns and walks, with an air of pride, to her wardrobe trailer. EXT. ELEGANT BEACHFRONT HOME - NIGHT Lights everywhere. Cars line the driveway. We HEAR the SOUND of a large party. A car pulls up. BOB BARNES gets out, goes around to open the door for Frances. She's exhausted. She doesn't move. BARNES Well... come on. FRANCES This is a mistake. No. This is a disaster. BARNES Come on, it's just what you need! Let everyone see you. Talk to them, live it up! FRANCES (tiredly) But we've been at it since six this morning. At least you could've let me go home and change. BARNES Look, Frances, I didn't want this job. Think I'm crazy? But you begged me: improve your image. So please... lemme try, huh? FRANCES (getting out) You're right. I'm sorry. (sighs) Okay, let's go get 'em. BARNES (taking pills from pocket) Here, take a few of these. Studio makes 'em in the basement. They keep the fat off. FRANCES (joking) So not only am I a troublesome bitch,