A Serious Man
Page 5
LARRY
Okay.
ARLEN FINKLE
I feel I should mention it even though we won’t give this any weight at all in considering whether to grant you tenure, so, I repeat – no cause for concern.
LARRY
Okay, Arlen. Give what any weight?
ARLEN FINKLE
We have received some letters, uh … denigrating you, and, well, urging that we not grant you tenure.
LARRY
From who?
ARLEN FINKLE
They’re anonymous. And so of course we dismiss them completely.
LARRY
Well … well … what do they say?
ARLEN FINKLE
They make allegations, not even allegations, assertions, but I’m not really … While we give them no credence, Larry, I’m not supposed to deal in any specifics about the committee’s deliberations.
LARRY
But … I think you’re saying, these won’t play any part in your deliberations.
ARLEN FINKLE
None at all.
LARRY
Um, so what are they …
ARLEN FINKLE
Moral turpitude. You could say.
LARRY
Uh-huh. Can I ask, are they, are they – idiomatic?
ARLEN FINKLE
I, uh …
LARRY
The reason I ask, I have a Korean student, South Korean, disgruntled South Korean, and I meant to talk to you about this, actually, he –
ARLEN FINKLE
No. No, the letters are competently – even eloquently – written. A native English-speaker. No question about that.
LARRY
Uh-huh.
ARLEN FINKLE
But I reiterate this, Larry: no cause for concern. I only speak because I would have felt odd concealing it.
LARRY
Yes, okay, thank you, Arlen.
ARLEN FINKLE
Best to Judith.
Larry answers with a wan smile. He looks down at the Mentaculus.
HEBREW SCHOOL EXTERIOR
Somewhere inside the school a bell rings. Its doors swing open and children emerge.
Our angle is down a line of school buses waiting to ferry the children home, each bus stencilled with the same Hebrew lettering.
We track toward the buses to steepen the rake. As children sort themselves and climb into their respective vehicles, the track brings the nearest bus into the fore ground. It noisily idles with its signature squeaks and stress sounds, its low engine rumbling. Children start climbing on.
MINUTES LATER
Inside the bus, now moving. Engine noise bangs in louder and air roars in through open windows. Somewhere on the bus, Jefferson Airplane plays.
We are on the driver, a sallow man in a short-sleeved white shirt with earlocks and a yarmulka. He pitches about, stoically wrestling with the wheel and gear shift as the vehicle bucks.
The pitching children.
DANNY
I gotta get my radio back.
MARK SALLERSON
Maybe the fucker lodged it up his fucking asshole.
DANNY
I gotta get it back. Or Mike Fagle’s gonna pound the crap out of me.
MARK SALLERSON
Way up his asshole.
DANNY
And I’ll still have to get my sister the money back or she’s gonna break four of my records. Twenty bucks, four records.
HOWARD ALTAR
How do you buy all those records? Where do you get your funds?
CLOSE ON LARRY
Standing in his yard. His eyes are darkly pouched. He is staring at something, it seems in dismay. We hear a fluttering sound.
His point-of-view: stakes are set out in the Brandts’ yard. Red ribbon connecting them outlines a projection from the side of the house. The loose ends of the ribbon flutter in the breeze.
Engine noise brings Larry’s look around. A car is arriving.
It is the Brandts’ car, oddly burdened. As it pulls into their driveway we see that there is a four-point stag strapped to the hood, its head lolling over the grille.
Mr. Brandt and Mitch get out of the car in their hunting fatigues. Blood is smeared on Mr. Brandt’s shirt.
MR. BRANDT
Go scrub up, Mitch.
LARRY
Uh, good afternoon.
This brings Mr. Brandt’s look around. Apparently he is unused to talking with his neighbor. A short beat.
MR. BRANDT
Afternoon.
Behind him is the dead buck, staring off through sightless eyes.
LARRY
(lamely)
… Been hunting?
MR. BRANDT
Yep.
LARRY
Is that a, uh …
He is indicating the staked area. Mr. Brandt looks at it, looks back at Larry.
MR. BRANDT
Gonna be a den.
LARRY
Uh-huh, that’s great. Uh, Mr. Brandt –
Mr. Brandt barks at Mitch, who has lingered to listen to the grown-ups:
MR. BRANDT
I said scrub up, Mitch!
The child quickly goes. Larry frowns.
LARRY
Isn’t this a school day?
MR. BRANDT
Took him out of school today. So he could hunt with his dad.
LARRY
Oh!
He nods.
… That’s … nice.
Mr. Brandt stares at him with button eyes. Small talk is not his thing. Larry clears his throat.
… Um, Mr. Brandt, that’s just about at the property line, there. I don’t think we’re supposed to get within, what, ten feet –
MR. BRANDT
Property line’s the poplar.
LARRY
… the …?
MR. BRANDT
Poplar!
LARRY
… Well … even if it is, you’re just about over it –
MR. BRANDT
Measure.
We hear two pairs of pounding footsteps coming up the street.
LARRY
I don’t have to measure, you can tell it’s –
MR. BRANDT
Line’s the poplar.
He indicates.
… It’s all angles.
Mr. Brandt turns and goes.
Larry turns, reacting to the pounding footsteps. One of the two pairs belongs to Danny, who arrives, slowing to a walk, panting, a bookbag over his shoulder.
A half-block back the pursuing boy also stops running. Husky, shaggy- haired, he watches, scowling, as Danny goes up the walk to his house.
Larry addresses Danny’s retreating back:
LARRY
What’s going on?
DANNY
Nothing.
IN THE HOUSE
Larry enters.
JUDITH
(off)
Larry?
LARRY
(projecting)
Yeah?
JUDITH
(off)
Did you go to Sieglestein, Schlutz?
LARRY
No, I – not yet.
JUDITH
(off)
Larry.
LARRY
Appointment Monday.
The thud of a car door outside.
Sarah emerges from the hall and heads for the front door, pulling on a jacket. Larry is surprised.
… Where are you going?
SARAH
I’m going to The Hole.
LARRY
At five o’clock?
He looks out the front-door window. Four girls have emerged from a car and are coming up the walk. They are Sarah’s age and all have dark hair and big noses.
SARAH
We’re stopping at Laurie Kipperstein’s house so I can wash my hair.
Larry pulls open the door. From the four dark girls:
VOICES
Hi, Mr. Gopnik.
LARRY
You can’t w
ash it here?
From somewhere in the house, Jefferson Airplane starts.
As she brushes past Larry:
SARAH
Uncle Arthur’s in the bathroom.
VOICE
Out in a minute!
Judith enters.
JUDITH
Are you ready?
LARRY
Huh?
JUDITH
We’re meeting Sy at Embers.
LARRY
I am?
JUDITH
Both of us. I told you.
EMBERS
Larry has his arms pinned at his sides by hugging Sy Ableman.
SY
Larry. How are you?
LARRY
Sy.
SY
Hello, Judith.
JUDITH
Hello, Sy.
Sy releases Larry and all seat themselves at Sy’s booth – Judith next to Sy, Larry facing.
SY
Thank you for coming, Larry. It’s so impawtant that we be able to discuss these things.
LARRY
I’m happy to come to Embers, Sy, but, I’m thinking, really, maybe it’s best to leave these discussions to the lawyers.
SY
Of coss! Legal matters, let the lawyers discuss! Don’t mix apples and oranges!
JUDITH
I’ve begged you to see the lawyer.
LARRY
(teeth grit)
I told you, I’m going Monday.
SY
Monday is timely! This isn’t – please! – Embers isn’t the forum for legalities, you are so right!
JUDITH
Hmph.
SY
No, Judith and I thought merely we should discuss the practicalities, the living arrangements, a situation that will conduce to the comfit of all the parties. This is an issue where no one is at odds.
Larry isn’t sure where this is leading:
LARRY
… Living arrangements.
SY
Absolutely. I think we all agree, the children not being contaminated by the tension – the most impawtant.
JUDITH
We shouldn’t put the kids in the middle of this, Larry.
LARRY
The kids aren’t –
JUDITH
I’m saying “we”. I’m not pointing fingers.
SY
No one is playing the “blame game”, Larry.
LARRY
I didn’t say anyone was!
JUDITH
Well, let’s not play “he said, she said”, either.
LARRY
I wasn’t! I –
SY
All right, well let’s just step back, and defuse the situation, Larry.
Larry glares at Sy.
Sy smiles at him, sadly. He reaches over and rests a hand on Larry’s.
… I find, sometimes, if I count to ten.
A beat.
… One … two … three … faw … Or silently …
Long beat.
JUDITH
Really, to keep things on an even keel, especially now, leading up to Danny’s bar mitzvah –
SY
A child’s bar mitzvah, Larry!
JUDITH
Sy and I think it’s best if you move out of the house.
LARRY
… Move out?!
SY
It makes eminent sense.
JUDITH
Things can’t continue as they –
LARRY
Move out! Where would I go?!
SY
Well, for instance, the Jolly Roger is quite livable. Not expensive, and the rooms are eminently habitable.
JUDITH
This would allow you to visit the kids.
SY
There’s convenience in its fava. There’s a pool –
LARRY
Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to move in with Sy?
Judith and Sy gape.
After a beat:
JUDITH
Larry!
SY
Larry, you’re jesting!
JUDITH
Larry, there is much to accomplish before that can happen.
Sy sadly shakes his head.
SY
Larry, Larry, Larry. I think, really, the Jolly Roger is the appropriate coss of action.
He shrugs.
… It has a pool.
IN BLACK AND WHITE: A BRAIN
It sits in in a large fishbowl, bathed in clear fluid.
The brain pulses, alive. Leads connect it to various pieces of gear outside the fishbowl. Brain and appurtenances are on a dais of sorts, dressed out with bunting.
Oddly, the picture is scored with cantorial singing.
The brain seems to be giving orders to people who wear imperfectly form-fitting 1950s uniforms of the future. After receiving their instructions the minions of the brain bow to it and leave. They are succeeded by two leather-helmeted thugs, big and heavy though lacking muscle definition, who escort a resisting handsome man before the brain. The handsome man, hands tied behind his back, gazes defiantly up at the brain which in some fashion addresses him.
We hear blows and voices over the cantorial music:
DANNY
Stop it!
SARAH
Creep fucker!
DANNY
Stop it! I’m getting it! I’m gonna get it!
Wider shows that the brain is on television, which Danny has muted while he plays the Cantor Youssele Rosenblatt record and drills his Torah portion. He and Sarah are in a stand-off, hands tensed either to deliver or ward off blows.
SARAH
Brat!
Larry enters.
LARRY
What’s going on?
SARAH
(leaving)
Nothing.
LARRY
What was that?
DANNY
Nothing.
LARRY
How’s the haftorah coming? Can you maybe use the hi-fi?
DANNY
What?
We hear the doorbell off. Larry indicates the portable record player.
LARRY
Can I borrow this? I’m taking some stuff. To, you know, the Jolly Roger.
DANNY
Sure, Dad.
On TV the handsome man shouts defiance at the brain.
From off, Sarah projects:
SARAH
Dad. Chinese guy.
ASIAN MAN
A middle-aged Korean man, well groomed, wearing a nicely cut suit and and a jewelled tie pin.
MAN
Culcha clash.
He bangs the knuckles of two fists, illustrating.
… Culcha clash
He faces Larry in the driveway. Larry’s car is half-loaded with open boxes that are haphazardly stuffed with clothing and effects.
Larry is leaning against the hood, arms folded, gazing at the man, unimpressed. A beat.
Finally he bestirs himself.
LARRY
With all respect, Mr. Park, I don’t think it’s that.
MR. PARK
Yes.
LARRY
No. It would be a culture clash if it were the custom in your land to bribe people for grades.
MR. PARK
Yes.
LARRY
So – you’re saying it is the custom?
MR. PARK
No. This is defamation. Grounds for lawsuit.
LARRY
You – let me get this straight – you’re threatening to sue me for defaming your son?
MR. PARK
Yes.
LARRY
But it would –
MR. BRANDT
Is this man bothering you?
Mr. Brandt is on the strip of lawn separating the two neighbors’ driveways. He is giving Mr. Park a hard stare.
LARRY
Is he bothering me? No. We’re fine. Thank you, Mr. Brandt.
Mr. Bran
dt, not entirely convinced, withdraws, glaring at the Korean.
Larry turns back to Mr. Park.
… I, uh … See, if it were defamation there would have to be someone I was defaming him to, or I … All right, I … let’s keep it simple. I could pretend the money never appeared. That’s not defaming anyone.
MR. PARK
Yes. And passing grade.
LARRY
Passing grade.
MR. PARK
Yes.
LARRY
Or you’ll sue me.
MR. PARK
For taking money.
LARRY
So … he did leave the money.
MR. PARK
This is defamation.
LARRY
Look. It doesn’t make sense. Either he left the money or he didn’t –
MR. PARK
Please. Accept mystery.
LARRY
You can’t have it both ways! If –
MR. PARK
Why not?
Larry stares.
We hear Sidor Belarsky music.
RECORD PLAYER
Sidor Belarsky’s singing crosses the cut. The tone arm of Danny’s portable record player rides on a spinning LP.
Wider shows Larry grading blue books at a small formica table crowded into a corner of his motel room. It is a depressingly generic budget motel room of the mid-sixties with cheaply panelled walls, thin carpet, formica night tables, plastic lamps and twin beds with stained nubby bedspreads.
The phone rings.
LARRY
Hello …
He brightens.
… Fine, Mimi, how are you? … Uh-huh … No, it’s not that bad …
Arthur emerges from an alcove in the dim depths of the room that has a dressing-room mirror and apparently connects to the bathroom. He has a hand towel pressed to the back of his neck.
… It’s not that bad … There’s a pool … Oh sure, that sounds great … Oh, great, then I’ll bring Danny …
LAKE NOKOMIS
A crowded beach – children cavorting, adults lounging, much sun, few umbrellas. Red floats strung with red nylon rope define a swimming area; beyond it people dive from an anchored raft.