The End of the Tour Page #4

LIPSKY:

Your publicist sent it in her e-mail,

just in case.

DAVID’S VOICE

You’d do me a favor by losing it.

27 I/E. CAR/DAVID'S STREET - BLOOMINGTON - 1996 - DAY 27

Stormy skies. Flat, wintry terrain. As the car pulls up,

Lipsky sees, through the windshield, a modest, one-story

brick house in the distance, and a man emerging from it.

From Lipsky’s long shot POV: DAVID FOSTER WALLACE, hands

shoved in his jeans pockets for warmth, accompanied by his

two barking, rambunctious black labs, JEEVES and DRONE.

Lipsky parks. He takes a deep, bracing breath before getting

out of the car to finally meet the man about whom he has

complicated feelings. He walks toward him.

9.

This is the first time we see David up close and in focus:

stubble, long hair, blue bandanna, wire-rims, Frye boots,

6’2” and, at this time in his life, burly.

DAVID:

You made it.

LIPSKY:

Yeah. Hi.

David offers his wary, tolerant hand. This being the end of

his tour, his patience is frayed and he’s just about talked

out. But, at the same time, it’s Rolling Stone, he wants to

make a good impression.

DAVID:

Dave. Dave Wallace.

LIPSKY:

David Lipsky. Pleasure.

Lipsky is cowed but determined to hold his own. These are

two really smart, competitive guys out to impress each other.

Wallace wants to be favorably profiled and Lipsky wants

Wallace’s approval - and a good story.

LIPSKY:

Sorry about the phone call.

DAVID:

95% joke.

Lipsky laughs.

DAVID (CONTD)

Sorry in advance about the dogs, gonna

be slobbering all over you.

LIPSKY:

Oh, I don’t mind. I love dogs.

DAVID:

Yeah? Well, you haven’t met these

guys... It’s cold, let’s go inside.

(to the dogs) Jeeves, Drone! Get over

here!

Lipsky follows David and the rowdy, barking dogs into the

house.

10.

28 INT. DAVID'S HOUSE/LIVING ROOM/KITCHEN - 1996 - CONTINUOUS 28

Lipsky drops his bag on the messy, sh*t-stained shag carpet.

The dogs are indeed all over him. Lipsky scratches their

heads and speaks to them as a dog lover would speak to dogs.

LIPSKY:

Yes, I’m very glad to meet you, too.

Who are you?

DAVID:

That’s Jeeves. The Jeevesmeister. I

got him ‘cause he was so ugly. No one

else wanted him. Now he’s like a

Cover Girl-dog. Aren’t you, Jeeves?

Yes, you are. And this is Drone. My

provisional dog.

LIPSKY:

Why provisional?

DAVID:

Just showed up one day while Jeeves

and I were out jogging and the rest is

history.

(A beat.)

I feel like I should offer you tea or

something.

LIPSKY:

Yeah. Thanks. That would be great.

David goes to put on water. We STAY on Lipsky, casually

studying the room with the eye of a journalist, taking in the

grad-student-like accoutrements: cramped cinder-block

bookshelves; hodgepodge of furniture, an ALANIS MORISSETTE

POSTER conspicuously on the wall. Lipsky, glancing out the

window at the wintry landscape, raises his voice to converse

with David, who’s in the kitchen.

Rate this script:5.0 / 2 votes