The Danish Girl Page #3

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EXT. WIDOW HOUSE, MONTHS LATER

A CHINESE LAUNDRESS with a large wheeled cart makes her way

along the street, RINGING a pair of little BELLS as she goes.

INT. WIDOW HOUSE, MORNING

Einar quickly but carefully folds Gerda’s chemise and puts it

in a bag of laundry, hurries to open the door...

INT/EXT. WIDOW HOUSE, EARLY MORNING, A MONTH LATER

Einar hands the bag to the laundress as she passes.

INT. WIDOW HOUSE, BEDROOM, MORNING

Gerda at the mirror, putting on her lipstick. Einar comes

in, reacts, seeing her dressed up. She’s self-conscious.

GERDA:

Well?

Einar can’t help smiling at her implied self-criticism.

EINAR:

Perfect. Almost.

He approaches, uses his thumb to gently blend away a smudge

of lipstick from her bottom lip. He nods. Perfect now.

EINAR (cont’d)

Good luck...

26/11/15

8.

EXT. BUSY COPENHAGEN STREET, DAY

Gerda carries her heavy portfolio, optimistic, brisk.

INT. ART DEALER’S OFFICE, DAY

Rasmussen’s face - a look of slight distaste. A sea of

Gerda’s work, on the desk, the floor - competent but

uninspiring naturalistic depictions of society figures.

RASMUSSEN:

All portraits...

Gerda hesitates a beat, the fact being so self-evident.

GERDA:

Is that bad?

RASMUSSEN:

Not per se, but... this kind of work is not

really my...

He winces a little. He has to end this:

RASMUSSEN (cont’d)

Gerda... I don’t think it would benefit

either of us to show these.

A vein begins to throb in Gerda’s neck.

RASMUSSEN (cont’d)

It’s not a judgement on your abilities - I

agree with Einar: you could be a first

class painter if you found the right

subject matter.

It’s the first time Gerda’s heard this. Her eyes shine,

stung, betrayed.

INT. WIDOW HOUSE, STUDIO, DAY

Einar works, hears the door. Gerda brings in the portfolio,

sets it down, starts taking off her coat. Einar’s tentative:

EINAR:

How was it?

GERDA:

Fine.

He waits for more, but nothing comes.

EINAR:

I finally mixed the right colour for the

snow.

(CONTINUED)

26/11/15

9.

CONTINUED:

Gerda glances at the canvas, hostile.

GERDA:

Another view of Vejle. I don’t know how

you can paint the same thing over and over.

Einar misses a beat.

EINAR:

I suppose I just haven’t finished with it

yet.

Gerda heads towards the door.

EINAR (cont’d)

Gerda..?

GERDA:

Could you please not speak to Rasmussen

about me again... My work is my business.

Stay out of it.

But she disappears into the bedroom, the door slamming

emphatically behind her. Einar’s left bewildered.

INT. BEDROOM, DAY

Gerda’s already regretting the exchange with Einar. She

unfastens her dress, pulls it off. There’s a bloodstain in

her underwear. Damn! She breathes.

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