The Art of Winning

By
130624220

TITLE CARD: School of the Art Institute of Chicago, 1998

INT. COLLEGE HALLWAY - DAY
A row of empty chairs lines the wall, breaking at a closed
door.
HARVIE, a preppy 21 year old student, immaculately dressed,
sits on a chair closest to the door. His hands are clasped
between his legs as he looks at the floor.
The door bursts open. A female student runs out,
hysterically crying. Harvie lifts his head but avoids eye
contact as the girl rushes past him.
INT. RESEARCH ROOM - DAY
A large desk, nearly touching both walls. Behind it a man
rolls a blind and opens a window.
Harvie hesitantly enters and walks towards the desk.
PROFESSOR WIKUS, early 40s, turns around, noticing Harvie.
He gestures a chair.
PROFESSOR WIKUS
Please.
Harvie lifts an overturned chair and takes a seat.
PROFESSOR WIKUS
I always like to begin by-HARVIE
Skipping the formalities. You dont
need to know my name, what I had
for breakfast or if Im a dog
person - Im not, because you
wouldnt know if I was telling the
truth, and whats more, you
wouldnt care.
Professor Wikus keeps his gaze on Harvie. He walks back to
the desk and sits, flicking open a folder and un-clicking a
sheet of paper. He scans a list of names.
PROFESSOR WIKUS
Harvie?...Deacon, right?
Harvie leans back in the chair.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

2.

PROFESSOR WIKUS (CONTD)

This session was a voluntary sign
up, Mr Deacon. While I understand
it might make some students
apprehensive, its merely research.
Harvie remains still.
PROFESSOR WIKUS (CONTD)
Lets start again, shall we? Im
Professor Wikus from the psychology
department at Loyola University and
the only thing Im interested in is
a one question... What was the last
thing you bought?
Harvie continues to stare at Professor Wikus. He slowly
stands.
Professor Wikus watches Harvie. He looks down at his
notepad, his PEN NIB hovers over a checkbox: Refused to
answer.
Harvie pulls out a scratchcard from his front trouser pocket
and slides it onto the desk. He sits back down.
Professor Wikus looks at the scratchcard balancing the edge
of his desk. He lowers his pen and reaches for it.
He pulls it close to his face and glances his watch.
PROFESSOR WIKUS (CONTD)
Thirteen minutes ago...
Harvie looks around at the bare walls.
PROFESSOR WIKUS (CONTD)
And why is this- at 10am, the last
thing you bought?
HARVIE
I didnt have a pen.
Professor Wikus smiles at Harvie, a dislike for him is
apparent. He holds the scratchcard by its bottom corner the silver, unscratched surface faces him.
PROFESSOR WIKUS
Do you like to gamble Harvie?
Professor Wikus lowers the scratchcard onto the desk. He
continues to talk while writing.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

3.

PROFESSOR WIKUS (CONTD)

Have you ever won on these before?
Harvie looks back at Professor Wikus as though hes on mute.
PROFESSOR WIKUS
Does it not seem like a waste of
money to you? For a piece of paper?
HARVIE
Thats all that money is.
Professor Wikus looks up at Harvie.
A Beat.
He picks up the scratchcard, shiny side up. The back of the
card faces Harvie. The name Clare and a telephone number
are scribbled in biro.
PROFESSOR WIKUS
Then I hope you win.
Professor Wikus hands the scratchcard across the desk.
PROFESSOR WIKUS (CONTD)
And as advertised Professor Wikus hands Harvie a $20 bill.
Harvie places the $20 bill down on the desk. He picks up a
pen from a stationary dispenser, clicks it and slides it in
his pocket. He smiles at Professor Wikus and exits.
INT. HARVIES HOUSE/ STUDY - DAY
TITLE CARD: Georgia, August 2008
CLARE, - early 30s, naturally pretty, shows a young couple
into the study.
CLARE
And this is the office.
Clare remains in the doorway as the couple nosey in.
ALEX
Its a good size, I could put my
rowing machine over there and-

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

4.
SHELLEY
It would need repainting, I mean
youd get-ALEX
Distracted. Right.

Clare enters, walking over to a wall. She strokes a MURAL of

a large MULTICOLOURED SPIRAL.
CLARE
My husband painted this.
Alex crosses the room.
ALEX
And the walls are-?
He knocks loudly on a wall. A solid thud.
CLARE
Not going anywhere.
She pulls a framed scratchcard off the wall and drops it
into a cardboard box beneath, already three quarters full.
Several other boxes line the wall.
CLARE (CONTD)
Just us.
A Beat.
HARVIE (O.S.)
(Getting closer)
Clare?...Clare, have you moved the
canvas drapes-?
Harvie, noticeably older with stubble, still immaculately
dressed in a suit, pokes his head in the doorway.
HARVIE (CONTD)
Oh! I didnt realise we had-... Hi,
Harvie Deacon.
Harvie shakes Alexs hand.
ALEX
(While shaking hands)
Alex.
CLARE
We were just re-decorating...
She flippantly gestures the mural.
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

5.

HARVIE
I always keep a spare.
He winks, boyish charm, un-offended. Harvie unfolds a small
sketch of the mural on a piece of paper, from his pocket.
Clare walks out.
HARVIE (CONTD)
(Quietly, to the couple)
Sorry, its um...well it wouldnt
be on the market if we had the
choice.
ALEX
No, we get it. My folks had to sell
their place after 23 years.
SHELLEY
So youre an artist?
HARVIE
Well if scouting younger talent who
do it quicker, cheaper and better
than me, sure, Im an artist.
Harvie tips his head towards the mural.
HARVIE (CONTD)
I was. I am. We own the gallery
downtown - Nickels, just trying to
cling onto that right now.
ALEX
Its hit everyone pretty hard.
Clare strides back into the room, handing Harvie a large
rolled up drape, not looking at Alex or Shelley.
CLARE
Not everyone.
Harvie glares at Clare.
ALEX
We could never have afforded a
place like this - especially in a
recession. Its just compensation.
He pulls his trouser leg up just enough to reveal a
prosthetic leg. Clare looks.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

6.

Clare immediately blushes. Harvies face is sympathetic but

he looks away. He spots the framed scratchcard in the box
and picks it out, re-hanging it on its hook.
Harvie strokes Clares hair. He kisses her on the forehead.
INT. HARVIES HOUSE - DAY
A photo of Harvie, Clare and their two young sons - neither
looking at the camera.
TELEPHONE OPERATOR (V.O.)
(Distinctly southern accent on a head-set mic)
Indiana State Lotto, Chelsea
speaking. This call is being
recorded, how may I help you?
Static from the phone line lingers.
TELEPHONE OPERATOR (V.O.)
Hello?...Hello?...Is anyone on the
line, this is Chelsea speaking?
CLARE (V.O.)
Um, yes. Yes Im here... I think
Ive won.
TELEPHONE OPERATOR (V.O.)
Afternoon Maam, can I take your
name and your ticket serial number?
EXT. GARDENS - DAY
Bright green grass.
HARVIE (V.O.)
Everyone has an image in their head
of what it would be like to win...
Willow trees and blossom blow in a gentle breeze BEHIND Clare and Harvie holding a GIANT lottery check. BIG SMILES.
They hold the cheque in one hand and champagne flutes in the
others.
WHITE flashes from news reporter cameras. Journalists arms
flail with microphones in front of Harvie and Clare. Their
pushing and shouting cannot be heard.
Harvie turns to look at Clare. He cant believe his luck,
shes beautiful. They KISS.

7.

EXT. HIGH STREET - DAY

TITLE CARD: July 2008
Harvies car pulls into a car park.
INT. NEWSAGENTS - DAY
JASPER, mid 40s, big build, leans on a pile of flat pack
cardboard boxes, over a till counter. Harvie stands across
from him.
A queue of customers at a checkout beside shuffle up as a
cashier serves.
HARVIE
Well the barbecues yours if you
want it.
JASPER
Ah, I dont know Harv, Ive seen
the way you polish her...wouldnt
you rather just give me your car.
HARVIE
Theres no garden at the new place.
JASPER
Oh you found somewhere?
HARVIE
Just a rental, but the quicker
were out...
Jasper nods, unconvinced.
JASPER
Well, sure! Ill take it...if it
brings you back for steak nights.
Harvie smiles and pats Jaspers upper arm.
HARVIE
RightHarvie hauls the pile of flat pack boxes with both hands.
His head peers over the top.
HARVIE (CONTD)
Jasper--

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

8.
JASPER
Dont worry bout it.

Harvie tips his head at Jasper and exits the store.

EXT. CAR/ HARVIES HOUSE - DAY
Harvie pulls into a suburban cul-de-sac; immaculate front
lawns and freshly trimmed hedges.
FOR SALE signs dot all but a few of the houses.
KNOCKING can be heard as the car pulls into a driveway.
Harvie gets out juggling flat pack boxes.
Harvie reluctantly smiles at a man knelt over on the grass,
hammering a FOR SALE post into his own lawn.
INT. HARVIES HOUSE/ KITCHEN - DAY
A beautiful kitchen. Marble countertops, lots of windows.
Harvie unloads the boxes onto a kitchen island.
The kitchen is the after-effect of the morning school run.
Half-full cereal-bowls, open jars, glasses of orange juice.
Harvie sweeps cereal off the counter with a newspaper and
into the bin. He throws the newspaper beside the pile of
cardboard and opens it onto the real-estate page.
His house is picture in the Newly Added. Various other
house-prices are seen. Reduced figures below originals.
Harvie SIGHS and flicks the page. An ad stops him turning
the page again: To beat the economy, be the economy.
Harvie tears out the page.
EXT. TEDS HOUSE - DAY
A FINGER lingers over a doorbell. A sign above it reads: Do
not press.
The finger presses the bell. A jarring buzzer echoes.
Harvie stands on a doorstep, like its his first day of
school. Several bolts unlock inside. The door slides open.
MARY, younger-looking than her age, patches of brown dye in
her greying hair, looks past Harvie.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

9.
MARY
(Chewing gum)
I dont take subscriptions.

Harvie looks behind himself and back at Mary.

HARVIE
Im looking for Ted Mullrey.
MARY
He doesnt either.
Harvie pulls out the newspaper clipping from his jacket.
Mary removes gum from her mouth, sticking it to the paper.
She walks back into the house.
Harvie remains on the doorstep staring through the opened
sliding door, holding the gum and paper.
INT. TEDS HOUSE/ KITCHEN - DAY
TED, mid-50s, balding and plump, crouches over at the
kitchen table, eating Cheetos. Hes stuck in a sudoku.
Mary walks through the kitchen.
Ted raises his head and removes his glasses. Harvie peers
into the kitchen.
HARVIE
I called earlier...
He raises the soggy ad clipping to Ted. He lays it on the
counter and wipes his hand on his leg.
Ted licks his fingers and straightens himself. He reaches
for a notepad.
TED
Whens your birthday son?
HARVIE
...June third, - seventy-six.
Ted moves his pen above the pad - calculating, never making
a mark. His lips move without vocalising.
TED
Mmm, nope, no, no. None of those
are coming up for a couple weeks.
He drops his pen and reaches for a mug of black coffee half-full. He tops it up with a cafetiere.
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

10.

TED
You wanna get into this business?
Youve gotta doubt it! Sure, you
wanna jump in and taste itHe lifts the steaming coffee to his nose and sniffs it.
TED (CONTD)
But you gotta take your time. You
gotta calculate that timeHe continues holding up the mug.
TED (CONTD)
-And you gotta know its worth
burning yourself for.
Ted takes a sip and lowers the coffee onto the table.
TED (CONTD)
Its Marys brew after all.
He coughs - wheezy. Harvie sniffs, the coffee stench is
strong.
HARVIE
If you dont mind me asking-TED
Twenty-two times. The first time I
ever played the lottery, I was
nineteen and they gave me a cheque
for $2 million. That was luck. Some
of the others have been a bit more,
most a lot less. None luck.
HARVIE
I dont want to waste your time Mr
MullreyTED
Ive got it to waste.
HARVIE
But Ive never believed in the
lottery. Or taking money I didnt
work for.
TED
It didnt just creep into my
account overnight...

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

11.

Mary passes Ted a giant RED FOLDER, scarily organised,

overflowing with plasic wallets and colour coded papers. A
heavy THUD as he drops it onto the table.
TED (CONTD)
Theres no ticket out of the
economy, but that doesnt mean we
cant earn from the ones in it.
Ted pushes the folder across to Harvie.
TED (CONTD)
And youre certainly gonna have to
work for it.
Harvie opens up the folder as though it may explode any
minute. He looks at sheets of numbers and equations.
TED (CONTD)
...So why?
HARVIE
I want people to see my art.
INT. NEWSAGENTS - DAY
A PEN scribbles in numbers on a lottery slip.
TED (CONTD) (V.O.)
Youre gonna play one line.
A lottery ticket prints from a machine. A HAND tears it out
and passes it across the counter to Harvie.
INT. HARVIES CAR - DAY
Harvie gets into his car and puts the printed lottery ticket
on top of the red folder sat in the front passenger seat.
TED (CONTD) (V.O.)
Your regular numbers - birthdays.
INT. HARVIES HOUSE/ LOUNGE - NIGHT
Harvie is sat alone in a dark living room. Only the glare of
the TV illuminates him. He holds the ticket with both hands.
TED (CONTD) (V.O.)
Watch the results, live...

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

12.

TV footage shows lotto balls spinning. One by one, six are

sucked up a tube. Numbers appear on the bottom of the TV.
TED (CONTD) (V.O.)
...For the last time.
None of the numbers on the TV screen match those on the
ticket in Harvies hand.
TED (CONTD) (V.O.)
Lesson one.
Harvies screws up the lottery ticket.
TED (CONTD)
Ignore the bullshitters who tell
you, Dont change your numbers.
ALWAYS, change, your numbers.
A remote control zaps off the TV set.
INT. HARVIES HOUSE/ STUDY - NIGHT
A laptop screen is opened. Indianas state lotto website is
bookmarked by a yellow star.
A cursor scrolls down, revealing winning lottery numbers.
Harvie is sat at a desk. He copies six numbers from the
laptop screen onto a piece of paper.
He tears out the paper and pins it to a board beneath a
dozen other strips of numbers. EIGHT is circled on them all.
INT. NEWSAGENTS - DAY
A pen scratches in numbers SEVEN and NINE on a lotto slip.
A ticket prints and is handed across a counter.
INT. HARVIES HOUSE/ KITCHEN - NIGHT
Harvie sits on a bar stool. A pile of lottery tickets
stacked on top of the red folder on the counter.
HARVIE
(On the phone)
Thats half of what we paid!...No.
Sorry, no. Tell him weve passed.
Ok, bye.
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

13.

Harvie hangs up as Clare enters the room.

HARVIE (CONTD)
(Waving the phone)
Alexs offer.
CLARE
You cant blame him.
HARVIE
Hes standing on more than us right
now...
CLARE
Why dont we withdraw until the
market picks up?
HARVIE
We cant afford to.
Clare slowly walks behind Harvie. She slides her arms down
his shoulders and leans in to his neck.
CLARE
Well its not worth killing
yourself overShe notices the pile of lottery tickets. She walks around
Harvie and picks one up off the floor.
CLARE (CONTD)
Or gambling away our savings.
She hands him the ticket. He collects the stack of tickets
and slides them into the folder. He looks at Clare.
Harvie picks up the folder and walks past her.
INT. EXHIBITION HALL - DAY
Exhibition booths stand in tandem. Each different in style
to its neighbour, all selling art. Bustles of crowds, a
mixture of elderly art snobs and youth street artists.
Harvie takes a large DRAPED CLOTH off a framed painting.
CHRIS, mid 30s, thin chiseled face, in a custom cut suit,
walks up behind Harvie.
CHRIS (O.S.)
Harvie Deacon...
Harvie turns around.
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

14.

HARVIE
Chris! What are you-? I thought you
were in LA?
CHRIS
The galleries can last one weekend
without me.
They go to shake hands but hug.
HARVIE
You opened a second?
CHRIS
About to be three actually. San
Diego.
HARVIE
That was- quick! Wow.
Harvies surprise masks any sincerity in his smile.
CHRIS
How Nickels?
HARVIE
Its um... well not as many
collectors have been-CHRIS
I saw the rental sign.
Harvey lays the drape on a small table at the side of his
exhibition booth. He SIGHS and looks away from Chris.
CHRIS
Youre a heck of headhunter. Fly
down next weekend and check out the
new space with me?
HARVIE
No, thats- thats really kind
Chris but, Im rooted here.
Chris looks at Harvies artwork for sale behind. He smiles
at Harvie - a sympathy grin. He takes a business card from
his wallet and gives it to Harvie.
CHRIS
If circumstances change.
Chris turns, instantly disappearing into the crowd.

15.

Harvie looks at the telephone number on the card. The last

two digits - 47.
EXT. TEDS HOUSE/ BACK GARDEN - DAY
The back of Ted and Harvie, standing at the edge of a large
pond. A rowing boat floats in the centre.
TED
Indiana uses forty-seven balls.
Thats odds of six over
forty-seven. Florida, its six over
fifty three.
Ted picks up a whole loaf of bread by his ankle. Stale. He
tears a corner.
TED (CONTD)
California... five thirty-one.
He throws the whole loaf into the pond. It bobs.
TED (CONTD)
It might be an international game,
but the national stakes are to
state-to-state.
Harvie looks at Ted. Ted stares out over the pond and chews
into the teared bread.
INT. HARVIES HOUSE/ BEDROOM - NIGHT
A half-packed suitcase lays open on a double bed. Harvie
exits an en-suite carrying toiletries, walking past Clare.
CLARE
We cant afford to grab a drink on
Saturdays but you can jet-set
around the country?
HARVIE
Were in a goddamn recession Clare!
No one heres even looking at my
pieces, let alone buying any.
He throws the toiletries into the suitcase.
HARVIE (CONTD)
Its not about the money anyway.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

16.

CLARE
Well it needs to be! You want the
world to see your- paintings, you
need to put food on the table
first.
Harvie zips the suitcase and lifts it off the bed. He leaves
the room, heading downstairs.
INT. SAN DIEGO - ART GALLERY - DAY
A large, empty space. Glossy wooden floors. Bare white
walls. Patent black shoes walk into centre of the room.
CHRIS (O.S.)
To tell you the truth Im happy you
called. Im down two guys.
The shoes belong to Chris, who stands in another beautifully
fitted suit.
CHRIS (CONTD)
So the California sun beckoned?
Harvie stares at the blank walls, his back to Chris.
HARVIE
Something like that.
He turns around.
HARVIE (CONTD)
How many pieces can you get in
here?
CHRIS
Ten?...Eleven?
HARVIE
Which?
Chris unbuttons his blazer and takes a step towards Harvie.
A Beat.
CHRIS
Eleven.

17.

INT. SAN DIEGO - NEWSAGENTS - DAY

A woman hands Harvie a printed lottery ticket. Bonus number
- 11. He smiles back at her in sunglasses. Relaxed.
EXT. SAN DIEGO - BEACH FRONT - DAY
Harvie exits the store and walks along a beachfront
pavement. He stops to watch a yacht glide by.
EXT. SAN DIEGO - ART GALLERY - DAY
Two men carry a large piece of artwork, draped in white
cloth, out of a van.
INT. SAN DIEGO - ART GALLERY - DAY
The large covered artwork is set down against a wall. Harvie
peels back a corner of the drape. The edge of a
MULTICOLOURED SPIRAL emerges from the canvas.
A mobile phone RINGS.
Harvie continues staring at the artwork for a beat longer.
Smiling. He re-covers the cloth as he answers the phone.
HARVIE
(On the phone)
Hello?
Fast talking, crying can be heard. His smile FALLS.
INT. GEORGIA POLICE STATION - NIGHT
Harvie sits in a questioning room, wearing the same clothes
as previous scene, noticeably crumpled.
OFFICER CARL
We understand you were trying to
sell the house.
Harvie holds his gaze at Officer Carl.
OFFICER CARL (CONTD)
Its a tough market. Its pushing
people to do things they ordinarily
wouldnt.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

18.
HARVIE
I was in San Diego.
OFFICER CARL
Insurance fraud is not taken
lightly Mr Deacon.
HARVIE
I understand that-OFFICER CARL
Its convenient that you were out
of town when the fire happened.
HARVIE
I had nothing to d- ...I cant sell
a house when its standing, so why
in Gods name would I burn it down?

A KNOCK on the door. Officer DAN WILE lets himself in,

shutting the door behind him.
Harvie recognises Dan. An instant relief on Harvies face.
Dan approaches Carl. He talks to him in a lowered voice.
Their conversation is not heard. Carl is reluctant to get
up. Dan stares him out until he leaves.
Dan looks at Harvie for the first time and sits.
OFFICER DAN WILE
I dont know what to tell you Harv.
Harvies eyes are tired.
OFFICER DAN WILE (CONTD)
Look, I know you wouldnt hurt
Clare and the kids-HARVIE
No!
OFFICER DAN WILE
But this wasnt an accident.
Dan pulls a plastic bag out from his blazer pocket and rests
it in the centre of the table; a scratchcard inside.
Harvie GRABS it. He turns it over. Clares name and
telephone number are written in biro.
Harvie opens the plastic bag. Dan GRABS it - a brief
struggle. Dan reseals the bag.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

19.

HARVIE (CONTD)
WHY DO YOU HAV-OFFICER DAN WILE
(Slowly)
Theres soot and bricks all over
the place, and yet thisHe holds up the bag.
OFFICER DAN WILE (CONTD)
-In the middle of it all, was
perfectly intact.
Dan lays the bag back on the table, but keeps both hands on
it. He looks at Harvie.
OFFICER DAN WILE (CONTD)
Whys that?
Harvie leans in and looks properly for the first time at the
scratchcard. A SPIRAL is scratched into the shiny, silver
surface, revealing the coloured card beneath.
Harvie falls back into his chair, holding his head.
Dan pauses a voice recorder on the table.
OFFICER DAN WILE (CONTD)
Harvie, if theres something you
need to tell me?
EXT. GARDENS - DAY
Bright green grass. Clare and Harvie hold a GIANT check.
HARVIE (V.O.)
Everyone has an image in their head
of what it would be like to win...
As Harvie and Clare pull out of a KISS- a ROAR of
journalists and media erupts. WHITE camera flashes.
NEWS REPORTER 1
(Shouting over commotion)
How do you feel?
NEWS REPORTER 2
What are you going to do with the
money?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

20.

NEWS REPORTER 3
Did you ever think youd win?
Harvie and Clare BLINK incessantly. The flashes blind them.
HARVIE (V.O.)
But what about the moment you find
out?
WHITE fills the screen. Champagne glasses smash. Pulsing of
old camera bulbs. A long TEARING of paper, overwhelming.
INT. HARVIES HOUSE/ KITCHEN - NIGHT
Harvie carries a suitcase down the stairs. Clare follows.
They shout as they walk through the hallway.
HARVIE
Its just paper!
CLARE
SO WHY HAVENT YOU CLAIMED IT!
HARVIE
We dont need it!
CLARE
EVERYONE NEEDS A MILLION DOLLARS,
Harvie. We are drowning here! We
have two sons-HARVIE
I KNOW!
A Beat.
CLARE
Where is it?
HARVIE
I threw it out.
CLARE
WHERES the lottery ticket?!
EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - DAY
TITLE CARD: September 2008
Harvie and Ted sit in a parked car on a suburban street.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

21.

Harvie passes the red folder to Ted who stares through the
windscreen.
HARVIE
What if I just wanted to know that
I could?
TED
Theres no strategy to life,
Harvie. When you chose those
numbers, you listened to an
instinct. It was you. You were
gonna win or lose, that was always
50/50.
Ted gets out the car and leans on the roof. Harvie emerges,
standing across the roof from him.
TED (CONTD)
I just never knew anyone do both.
He looks at Harvie as though he knows its the last time. He
ducks back into the car, shutting his door.
Harvie remains standing, like a scolded toddler. He closes
his door.
The car pulls away, revealing Harvie on the curb in front of
his blackened house.
Police tape is strewn on the tinged lawn. A For Sale sign
stands pristine in the grass.
Residents huddle across the street looking at- a
multicoloured spiral mural is seen on an exposed, scorched
wall.