The Doors Page #3

JIM, in torn black chinos, no shirt, walking real slow past

it all, carrying a notebook of his own and a paperback of

Baudelaire, his eyes settling on...

A YOUNG BEAUTY and her yellow labrador -- a fashionable thin,

long, red-haired "20th century fox" in jeans moving through

the crowd...

He thinks about it -- a fraction of eternity -- and he's

off... after her.

EXT. VENICE CANAL - DAY

She moves along its banks, as if the universe moved to her

rhythm, turning once to look back. Jim caught in her eyes.

They're alone. Now he's the one seized by doubt. He slows,

pretends to take another interest.

DOORS SONG:

She holds her head so high

Like a statue in the sky

Her arms are wicked

And her legs are long

When she moves

My brain screams out this song

EXT. VENICE CANAL - ANOTHER CANAL - DAY

As she turns into another street, he resumes following her.

She gets to a house, goes in. There's a group of people

partying. He stops, watches.

DOORS SONG:

Sidewalk crouches at her feet

Like a dog that begs for something sweet

Do you hope to make her see you, fool?

Do you hope to pluck this dusky jewel?

EXT. PAMELA'S HOUSE - VENICE CANAL - THAT EVENING

The two story house has a quaint run-down charm. Friends

have dropped by, people smoking joints, beers.

She's on the upstairs balcony -- talking with a YOUNG MAN

(professor type) in his 30's, who passes her a joint.

JIM lurks in the shadows of the trees; he's been standing

outside watching... The MUSIC shifts to the quieter LOVE

STREET.

DOORS SONG:

She lives on Love Street

Lingers long on Love Street

She has a house and garden

I would like to see what happens

The YOUNG MAN gestures, and goes back inside the house. She's

alone now on the balcony, sitting on a kitchen table...

It's now or never. Jim scales the tree alongside the house

with the agility of a gymnast.

DOORS SONG:

She has robes and she has monkeys

Lazy diamond studded flunkies

She has wisdom and knows what to do

She has me and she has you

The girl's grinding up pot in an old shoebox with a spoon

and kitchen strainer. She looks up and sees his crotch three

feet from her face, balanced there effortlessly on the railing

like a highwire act, opens her mouth in surprise.

Jim drops softly to the balcony, a smile of disarming

gentleness.

JIM:

Hi...

GIRL:

Wow! Hi...

(looking at the tree)

You have a problem with doors?

JIM:

Waste of time...

His head cocked slightly onto his left shoulder, he drawls,

southern gentleman, polite, slow, thoughtful as if he had

all the time in the world, as if the guy would never come

back.

JIM:

I followed you... from the beach...

GIRL:

(impressed)

Wow! You followed me? Why?

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