Youth Page #5

---

Fred Ballinger smiles and so does Jimmy. They’re accomplices

now.

FRED BALLINGER:

Because levity is also a

perversion. What are you doing in

Europe?

JIMMY TREE:

I’m doing a new film, in Germany,

starting in a month. I’m developing

the role.

FRED BALLINGER:

Is it a lighthearted role?

JIMMY TREE:

That depends on your point of view.

FRED BALLINGER:

Is it coming along well?

JIMMY TREE:

We’ll see.

Mark Kozelek breathes the last note of “Onward.” The little

group claps languidly. Fred doesn’t join in. Then, struggling

to get up, he takes his leave of Jimmy.

FRED BALLINGER:

It’s late for me.

10.

JIMMY TREE:

Not for me.

Fred smiles. Jimmy salutes him playfully, two fingers to his

temple.

Fred moves off with the uncertain gait of an old man. Jimmy

drinks and observes Fred's slow walk.

4. INT. HOTEL RECEPTION/ELEVATOR. NIGHT

Fred Ballinger stands immobile in the lobby, across from the

reception desk. He’s waiting for the elevator.

A young night doorman stares blankly at a small, silent TV.

A very petite, dignified-looking woman, who looks older than

her sixty years, rings the doorbell. The doorman, without

taking his eyes off the TV, presses a button and buzzes her

in. The woman enters and sits on a bench. Melancholy and

resigned, she stares into space. Fred Ballinger, still

waiting for the elevator, has watched all this, his face

expressionless.

Finally, the elevator. An old contraption with a metal grate.

Fred steps inside. The elevator ascends. We see his

silhouette rising.

4A. INT. HOTEL ELEVATOR/CORRIDOR. NIGHT

It stops at his floor. A chubby, unattractive young woman,

about twenty, is waiting to take the elevator down. Her face

is pocked here and there with pimples, an adolescent

peculiarity that clashes with her sharp, aggressive look. We

can safely assume that she’s a hooker, but a hooker sui

generis.

Fred forgets to look at her, and she pays no attention to

him.

Alone, Fred Ballinger makes his way down the hallway, taking

tiny, slow steps. Next to every door are pairs of hiking

boots, neatly arranged, which the guests have put out to be

aired.

In the silence of the night, an old man in an electric

wheelchair overtakes Fred and vanishes around a corner.

The sound of a violin comes from one of the rooms, stopping

Fred in his tracks. He turns, searching for the source. It

starts up again, from the beginning: only two notes, played

poorly. Someone’s obviously practicing, one of those really

tedious exercises.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes