Beautiful-People Time

BEAUTIFUL-PEOPLE TIME

TITLE – UGANDA, 1972

101 EXT. GARDEN BESIDE LAKE VICTORIA, DAY.

MONTAGE: tropical garden, with sweeping lawn and acacia trees. BUNGALOW with palm thatch roof. LAKE VICTORIA in background.

NATHAN (gardener, 30s, in Wellington boots and shorts) cuts grass using a hand mower with long handle and cross-piece.

CAT watches two HOOPOES probing the lawn.

SOUNDS: mowing, cicadas and lakeside birds.

SALEENA (Indian, 18, in casual shorts and T-shirt). Reclines in easy chair beneath a tree. BOOK open on her lap.

CLOSE-UP of BOOK: Poems of Emily Dickinson. SALEENA glances at the open page.

SALEENA

“Hope is the thing with feathers, That perches in the soul, And sings the words…”

(sighs)

Hope is the thing with feathers.

CAT makes a half-hearted rush at the HOOPOES. They fly up and settle on another part of the lawn. The CAT sits down and licks a paw. SALEENA smiles at its feigned indifference.

SOUND: background piano music (Beethoven’s, FŰR ELISE).

SALEENA closes her eyes and leans back to listen.

SALEENA

Wish I could play like my sister.

MUSIC abruptly stops.

MOTHER calls from inside house.

MOTHER (O.S.)

Saleena, it’s come! It’s here!

MOTHER (Indian, 40s, wearing sari) bustles onto veranda.

SALEENA

What has? What’s come.

MOTHER

The letter! It’s got to be the one.

SISTER (RAMNI, 15 y.o. also in shorts and T-shirt) follows her mother onto the veranda.

EZEKIEL (African cook, 60s) comes out of the kitchen drying hands on apron.

SALEENA runs across and takes letter.

MOTHER

See the stamp!

CLOSE-UP: Kenyan stamp on letter.

SALEENA (V.O.)

No one else would write to me from Kenya.

SALEENA is reluctant to open the letter.

SISTER

Open it, Saleena!

MOTHER

Go on.

EZEKIEL nods encouragement.

NATHAN stops mowing to watch.

SALEENA struggles to open letter with clumsy fingers and tense expression. She sees too little writing.

SALEENA

(whispers)

I’ve passed.

102 INT. SALEENA’S BEDROOM, NIGHT.

SALEENA, in pyjamas, tossing and turning in bed under mosquito net. Faint illumination from external security light.

SALEENA

I’ve passed. I’m going to medical school. I’m going to be a doctor.

More tossing and turning.

SALEENA

I’m going to be a doctor. I’m going to be a doctor. Go to sleep. I’m going to…

Falls asleep.

SOUND: loud banging.

CLOSE-UP of bedside clock shows 2.00 a.m.

SALEENA

Not that wretched hippo again, trying to get into the garage. Go away!

Pulls PILLOW over her head.

SOUND: banging becomes louder and more persistent.

UNCLE (O.S.)

Saleena, Saleena.

She sits up trying to orientate.

UNCLE (O.S.)

Saleena, wake up!

SALEENA (V.O.)

My uncle. What does he want at this time of night?

SALEENA pushes mosquito net aside and goes to window.

UNCLE in pyjamas is hammering on window. His car is in the driveway.

AUNT (NARITA) in passenger’s seat, tears glisten on her cheeks in the glow from security light on corner of the house.

UNCLE

You must be leaving; the soldiers are coming.

103 INT. ROOMS IN HOUSE, NIGHT.

SALEENA whimpers and runs through to her parents’ room.

SALEENA

The soldiers are coming!

FATHER (SANJAY) panics and struggles with dressing gown.

FATHER

Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

MOTHER rushes off to wake the SISTER

MOTHER

Oh no! Please no.

FATHER drags suitcases out of hall cupboard, still muttering.

SALEENA runs and unlocks front door.

UNCLE bursts into house.

UNCLE

There’s no time for packing. Just come!

FATHER

But we must be taking some clothes!

UNCLE

No, see! Already they are at Manjit’s house.

UNCLE points out of open door as flames erupt from the thatch on the roof of a NEARBY HOUSE.

UNCLE

Hurry! Leave everything. Just come.

EVERYONE rushes outside.

104 EXT. OUTSIDE THE HOUSE, NIGHT.

FATHER runs to the back of the house.

SALEENA, MOTHER and SISTER wait fearfully in nightclothes, clinging to each other, clutching few small bags.

EZEKIEL and wife arrive from the servants’ quarters looking fearful.

MOTHER

Ezekiel, we have to leave.

SOUNDS: revving car engine, tyres spinning on gravel.

Elderly MORRIS CAR races round the house and skids to halt.

FATHER jumps out of driving seat. Dressing gown snags and tears of door catch.

FATHER

Hurry, hurry!

FATHER throws bags into the car and bundles MOTHER and SISTER into back seat.

SALEENA jumps into front clutching her book of Emily Dickinson’s poems.

FATHER

We’ll be back, Ezekiel.

EZEKIEL

(bewildered)

Yes, bwana.

FATHER

Look after yourselves.

FATHER scrambles back in leaving a slipper on the drive. Slams the door and speeds after the UNCLE’S car.

SALEENA glances back at EZEKIEL and his WIFE huddled together, faces faintly lit by glow of FLAMES from the nearby house.

EZEKIEL picks up the slipper.

An OWL flies off as SHADOWY FIGURES burst from the bushes.

SALEENA is horrified to see EZEKIEL and his wife being attacked by a mob with machetes.

105 INT. CAR. NIGHT.

FATHER turns onto the main road.

FATHER

(shouts)

I daren’t stop.

SALEENA

What about Ezekiel and—?

FATHER

It’s us they’re after.

SALEENA loses sight of the horror.

106 INT. CAR. DAY.

KENYA BORDER POST comes into view as dawn is breaking.

FATHER is cleared to enter KENYA. There is no sign of the UNCLE’s car.

SALEENA (V.O.)

And so, with little more than the clothes I was wearing, a place at Nairobi’s Medical School and my book of Emily Dickinson’s poems, I arrived in Kenya, my mind full of fear, my heart full of hope.

CLOSE-UP of poem in Emily Dickinson book: “Hope is the thing with feathers.”

TITLE – CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND 1975.

107 INT. OFFICE IN THE UNIVERSITY BOTANY DEPARTMENT, DAY.

DAVID (British student, fit-looking 24, wearing safari boots, jeans and T-shirt) arrives outside the office, knocks on door.

LIONEL (O.S.)

Come in.

DAVID enters to see PROFESSOR LIONEL HANLEY (bronzed and wiry, late 50s) standing on a chair, fiddling with a picture on the wall. He wears baggy shorts, long socks and safari boots.

DAVID

Professor, it’s David Seymour, I’ve come—

LIONEL

Tell me, is that straight?

DAVID

Sorry?

LIONEL

The picture: is it straight?

DAVID

Oh, er, yes.

LIONEL indicates adjacent picture

LIONEL

And this one?

DAVID

Yes. Looks fine.

LIONEL jumps down and shakes DAVID’S hand.

LIONEL

David, splendid, grand.

He turns back and gazes through half-closed eyes at VAN GOGH’S two paintings of chairs.

LIONEL

I must say they do look rather good. You know the artist, I presume.

DAVID

Van Gogh?

LIONEL

It is indeed. Sit down, David. Sit down.

LIONEL sits in his chair and studies DAVID.

LIONEL

The pictures, David: tell me what you see.

DAVID gazes in bewilderment at the pictures.

DAVID

Er, um… Two chairs.

LIONEL

Ye-e-s. Would you, er… care to develop that theme?

DAVID

Well, the one on the left is quite simple, mainly in yellow and with a pipe on the seat, but the other is more ornate with richer colours and—

LIONEL

(holds up hand)

Stop there! Now shut your eyes and continue.

DAVID (V.O.)

What does all this have to do with my application to study for a PhD in plant ecology?

DAVID

(eyes shut)

Well, I could say that the yellow chair is simple and functional. Whereas the ornate chair on the right speaks more of comfort and warm evenings in front of the fire with a good book and—

LIONEL

Excellent! By shutting your eyes, David, you’ve evoked an image which goes far beyond the simple portrayal of a chair. Go on.

DAVID

Well… I can perhaps imagine the warmth of the fire, and um… possibly envisage the book I might be reading and… and even the cold beer at my elbow.

LIONEL

Splendid! Do you see what I’m getting at?

DAVID gives a vacuous smile to hide his bemusement.

LIONEL

Although the pictures are now in different art galleries, Van Gogh intended them to be displayed together facing each other – as I’ve done with the prints: Van Gogh’s chair on the left and his friend Paul Gauguin’s on the right – each representing what Van Gogh perceived as the respective and different personalities of the two artists.

LIONEL pauses to massage his kneecaps.

LIONEL

You’re familiar with the work of Roger Sperry, I presume?

DAVID

Afraid not.

LIONEL

Come, come: the so-called lateralisation of brain function.

DAVID

Er… Is it the right side of the brain controlling the left side of the body and the left brain controlling the, er… right?

LIONEL

In simple terms, yes. On his way to a Nobel Prize, I shouldn’t wonder. Less well known, though, is that the two hemispheres of the brain process information differently. Are you with me?

DAVID nods, still uncertain.

LIONEL

The left side is verbal, logical and analytical, and the right side perceptual, intuitive and holistic; an analogy admirably portrayed by van Gogh. That’s why I’ve hung the pictures that way.

LIONEL continues to gaze at them, seemingly lost in thought.

LIONEL

By the way, David, the topic I’d like you to research is communication between trees.

DAVID

Sorry?

LIONEL

Trees are living organisms, like us. Well, not quite like us – they don’t have a central nervous system for a start – but you get the idea. So, how do they communicate?

DAVID

Um. Not sure I quite…

LIONEL

(points out of window)

The concept is simple. If that tree over there is infested with caterpillars, do the neighbouring trees know and, if so, do they become repellent to the caterpillars or fungus, or whatever it is, attacking the first tree? That certainly seems to be the case with some tree species. How do they do it? When you’ve sorted that out, you can go and study acacias and giraffes.

DAVID

In Africa?

LIONEL

Where else? Cambridgeshire, sadly, is not noted for its acacias – or its giraffes for that matter. I’ll find you funds from somewhere.

DAVID

(surprised and grateful)

Thanks.

LIONEL

Remember, David, genius is one per cent inspiration and ninety-nine-per-cent perspiration.

DAVID (V.O.)

I’d been warned about this one.

DAVID

(innocent expression)

Thomas Edison?

LIONEL

Good. Good. Inventor of the light bulb – among other things. Research is the same.

DAVID

Right.

LIONEL gestures again at pictures.

LIONEL

The study of art will help you tap into that one per cent Edison talks about – the right brain, if you like. The one per cent which inspires great minds: the Edisons, Einsteins, Darwins and Newtons of this world – two of whom, incidentally, were at Cambridge – people who dared to challenge conventional wisdom and ask silly questions.

LIONEL picks up a potted plant from the window sill.

LIONEL

What’s this?

DAVID

Huernia keniensis.

LIONEL

How do you know that?

DAVID

I can read the label.

LIONEL

(chuckles)

I can see we’re going to get on. Have you seen it growing in the wild?

DAVID

Possibly: the Loita Hills in Kenya.

LIONEL

Wonderful spot. Interesting cycads there.

He replaces the pot on the windowsill

LIONEL

Right, back to research. Most of science is, of course, graft – perspiration, if you like – but the flashes of insight and inspiration come when we allow our brains to wander and peer into dusty corners, turn over hidden stones and—

DAVID

Study art?

LIONEL

Exactly! But look beyond the subjects, scrutinise the pictures, listen to what they’re telling you.

DAVID

But how—?

LIONEL

Work it out, David. A word of warning: when that eureka moment does come, I advise you not to emulate Archimedes and leap out of your bath to run naked down King’s Parade. It might be misinterpreted.

DAVID smiles.

LIONEL pats his knees and rises from his chair.

LIONEL

Right, let’s go.

DAVID

Where?

LIONEL

We have an appointment with Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot.

DAVID

Who?

But LIONEL is already halfway down the STAIRS.

DAVID follows him out into FITZWILLIAM STREET.

108 EXT. STREET LEADING TO FITZWILLIAM MUSEUM, DAY.

DAVID almost has to run to match the sprightly LIONEL striding down FITZWILLIAM STREET.

They stop at the end of the street to admire the FITZWILLIAM MUSEUM then cross TRUMPINGTON STREET, pass through sturdy IRON GATES, up the steps and into the entrance hall.

109 INT. FITZWILLIAM MUSEUM, DAY.

WALTER (late 50s), one of several attendants on duty in the hallway, greets them.

WALTER

Good morning, Professor Hanley.

LIONEL

Good morning, Walter. Are you well?

WALTER

Very well, thank you, sir. Have you come to see the Corots?

LIONEL

Indeed.

WALTER

I’m afraid, sir, the exhibition doesn’t open until tomorrow.

LIONEL

I know but my colleague, here, leaves for Africa tomorrow. He’s a particular admirer of Corot.

DAVID’S tries to look learned and enthusiastic, despite his bemusement.

WALTER

Leave it to me, sir.

WALTER pats LIONEL’S arm and looks furtively around.

WALTER

This way, gents.

WALTER leads them up some back stairs to a GALLERY at one end. A notice on the door reads: “No Entry. Staff Only.”

WALTER knocks on the door.

A woman (MIRANDA 40-ish, with untidy hair and a harassed expression) sticks her head out and glowers.

MIRANDA

Yes, what is—? Lionel!

LIONEL

How are you, Miranda?

MIRANDA

Run off my feet. You’ve no idea. I suppose you’ve come for a private viewing, you old lion.

LIONEL

That would be most kind.

LIONEL slips something into Walter’s hand.

WALTER

Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.

LIONEL

Mum’s the word, eh, Walter?

WALTER

Much obliged, sir.

WALTER departs.

110 INT. GALLERY IN FITZWILLIAM MUSEUM, DAY.

MIRANDA pulls DAVID and LIONEL inside, closes door.

MONTAGE: pictures on walls, others being unpacked by helpers. Floor strewn with packaging.

MIRANDA holds out her hand to DAVID.

MIRANDA

I’m Miranda.

DAVID

David.

They shake hands.

MIRANDA

Another of Lionel’s students, I presume. Being dragged along to nurture your brain and peer into dusty corners.

LIONEL

Really!

MIRANDA

(to David)

Science can provide answers, but art provides inspiration which enables us to ask the questions which science seeks to answer. Is that what Lionel tells you?

DAVID

I think so.

LIONEL wanders round peering at pictures.

LIONEL

Without art, Miranda, we would be nothing but foreground and live entirely in the spell of that perspective.

MIRANDA

Now you’re showing off.

LIONEL

But you have to agree with Nietzsche.

MIRANDA

I do indeed. I also believe we can never fully understand art.

LIONEL

True, true. Now, Miranda, don’t let us interrupt your work.

MIRANDA

Bit late for that, isn’t it?

LIONEL gives his most winsome smile.

MIRANDA responds with a mock sigh of resignation.

MIRANDA

Come on, then. Just mind the packing.

MIRANDA calls to her three HELPERS.

MIRANDA

Coffee-break, girls. No more than half an hour.

HELPERS troop out, eyeing DAVID with interest. He responds with a smile and a shrug.

LIONEL

Where are the pictures from, Miranda?

MIRANDA

Some from our own collection but most are loans from other places: the National Gallery, the Courtauld and some from France – the Musée d’Orsay and the Louvre. We were chuffed to get them.

Turns to DAVID.

MIRANDA

Do you know Corot?

DAVID

I’m afraid not.

MIRANDA

Frenchman born in 1796 and much neglected.

She sets off pointing out paintings to DAVID.

MIRANDA

Probably because he came between the neo-classicists with their idealised views of landscapes peopled with vestal virgins and mythological figures—

She indicates a couple of PAINTINGS.

— and the realists like Constable and Turner. You’ve heard of them?

DAVID nods and grins with relief.

MIRANDA

In later life Corot anticipated the plein-air innovations of the French Impressionists and is regarded by many as the fore-runner of that movement, although one critic complained he still retained too many nymphs in his pictures. See.

Points at another PICTURE; then gives an apologetic laugh.

MIRANDA

I’m sounding like my brochure. Here.

She gives DAVID a brochure from the heap on a side table.

DAVID

Thanks.

MIRANDA

Right. I’ll leave you in Lionel’s capable hands. Make sure you study the way Corot handles water and sky; ethereal is the word I like to use.

LIONEL looks round from the picture he is studying.

LIONEL

The merging of time and space.

MIRANDA

Exactly.

LIONEL

Miranda, thank you so much for indulging two gate-crashers.

MIRANDA

Go on, you old lion, you take over.

Turns to DAVID and holds out her hand. They shake.

MIRANDA

Nice to have met you.

DAVID

Thanks so much for your time.

MIRANDA indicates LIONEL who is studying a painting through half-closed eyes.

MIRANDA

He probably knows as much as I do about the pre-Impressionists.

LIONEL

You’re too kind.

MIRANDA

If you ever get tired of plants, Lionel, let me know. We can always find you a curator post here.