Marjory

By
Alessandro Zangirolami

Alessandro Zangirolami 2211 Locust St, apt. 3R

Philadelphia, PA 19103
434-466-3415
a.zangirolami@gmail.com
1 EXT. PEARL’S YARD - NIGHT 1
POV: CAMERA REC

We’re the shaky viewpoint of a crap-quality video camera.

Remember the time you thought you had the camera standby on?
It was recording. Red dot, upper right corner. Ok, that.
Somebody’s walking on some grass and breaks into Pearl’s
house, through an unlocked window.

2 INT. PEARL’S HOUSE - NIGHT 2

Still POV. The house is deep dark. The moon and the lamppost
outside mercifully let us define some of the space. We’re in
a former living room, since it is now empty. A pair of
hands. Camera is hastily handled. Some BREATHS. A woman
WHISPERS.
WOMAN (O.S.)
Shit. Seriously? Rec on?

The camera stabilizes and pans a bit around the big, empty
house. Just a persian rug and three boxes on the floor.
Filled with objects. Zoom in, zoom out.
WOMAN (O.S.)
’kay. Don’t be scared, Marge.

The WOMAN, recording, is MARJORY TURING (52). A panicky

middle-aged woman. A tense violin string. She’d be the worst
thief ever, if she were one.
MARJORY (O.S.)
Hey Pearl. It’s Marge.
Outside, male cats CATERWAULING in the neighborhood.
MARJORY (O.S.)
I couldn’t sleep.

She STUTTERS.
MARJORY (O.S.) (cont’d)
So this is it. It’s the- (voice
quickly breaks crying) -shit. I
can’t. (rapidly takes two deep
breaths) I can’t.
She STUTTERS and SOBS, again.
MARJORY (O.S.) (cont’d)
I tried today. I’m sorry, I just- I
couldn’t. You know that, right? But
you know I was at the funeral.

(CONTINUED)
 CONTINUED: 2.

Camera stops shaking for a moment, with another couple

BREATHS.
MARJORY (O.S.) (cont’d)
Sure you looked... wonderful. Yeah
you were, you know - dead - sure,
but... that kind of wonderful. You
think it’s gross? Oh, no no it’s
not. (more tears coming, voice
pitches up) Indeed you were the
most... (words don’t come easy)
beautiful... dead... woman I have
ever seen.
Marjory fires out a cried, nervous LAUGHTER.
MARJORY (O.S.) (cont’d)
I’m sorry. But the footage... was
very good.
She CLEARS her throat.
MARJORY (O.S.) (cont’d)
Farewell.
Her voice pitches up...
MARJORY (O.S.) (cont’d)
(whispered)
You were so beautiful. I’m sorry.
Camera stumbles through the space, looking around. A set of
stairs in shadow at the other end of the room, leading to...
3 INT. PEARL’S BEDROOM - NIGHT 3

...another empty space. Still POV. All is gone but a couple

more boxes sitting on the ground, in a corner. Camera stops
moving. Looks even quite steady, for a sec. A small, white
parasol lies closed in one of the boxes.

Marjory MUTTERS.
Camera hesitates. Then, it accelerates towards the boxes.
Some suffocated mutters underscore every uncertain step.
We’re right over the parasol, and crouch down. Slowly. Like
a crane. A sloppy one.

The whitish parasol is streaked by some of the outside light

sneaking in. Marjory picks it up. A broken, lamenting siren,
Marjory puts the camera down. Still recording.
She’s bare knees on the wooden floor.

(CONTINUED)
 CONTINUED: 3.

Marjory, tears streaming, gently looks at the parasol. She

opens it. An old Italian lace parasol. Not really doing
anything, as light breaks through the patterns while she
spins it, hypnotized.

Nevertheless, she fails in keeping her tears inside.

Spinning the device, she puts it over her head. Crying.
Cats still MOANING in heat outside.

4 EXT. PEARL/MARJORY’S DRIVEWAY - NIGHT 4

From a distance, Marjory breaks out. She sneaks back inside

her house, next to Pearl’s. She holds a package.
Lustful cats try to follow her inside, in vain. The door is
shut. Nature will wait.
5 INT. MARJORY’S LIVING ROOM - MORNING 5
The parasol sits open on a couch. It slightly rocks left and
right, moved by the ceiling fan. Again, the sunlight slips
through it onto white sheets. White on white.
Marjory’s face is revealed under it. Sleepy-head.
All is quiet. Only the BUZZ from the fan.

Down on the ground, a photograph inside an art-nouveau

frame. Pearl and Marjory, back to back, under the parasol,
silhouetted against the dawn.
Heavy KNOCKING at the door, outside.

VIVIAN (O.S.)
Ms. Turing?
Marjory wakes up. Anxious, freezes for a moment. Then walks
to the door and listens. Waits before any answer.

VIVIAN (O.S.)
Ms Turing? Are you home?
MARJORY
Who’s there?

VIVIAN (O.S.)
It’s Vivian, Ms Turing. Can I have
a word with you?

(CONTINUED)
 CONTINUED: 4.

MARJORY
Why?

VIVIAN (O.S.)
Please, Ms Turing.
6 EXT. MARJORY’S DOORWAY - DAY 6
Marjory carefully opens the door. It SQUEAKS.

VIVIAN
Hello, Ms. Turing.
Marjory stays at the doorway. Looks at Vivian,
uncomfortable.

VIVIAN (cont’d)
May I come in?
MARJORY
I’d prefer not.

A careful, uncertain pause between the two, looking at each

other. Vivian drops it.
VIVIAN
Did you, um, break into mom’s house
last night?
Marjory is stone cold.
MARJORY
No.

VIVIAN
No.
MARJORY
No, no.

VIVIAN
Are you su-
MARJORY
Yes. Wasn’t me. I, didn’t break in.
Vivian searches her white, leather purse.
Marjory slowly retracts inside.

MARJORY (cont’d)
Look, I better go.
But, Vivian hands Marjory some photos.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 5.

VIVIAN
Mrs Cavanagh took these.
Marjory examines the pictures, anxious. But carefully.
MARJORY
No. That certainly isn’t me.
(points at the pics) Look. It’s all
blurry.
VIVIAN
Go on.
Marjory browses through the other prints. Vivian leans
towards the pictures. She points one.
VIVIAN (cont’d)
That is you, Ms Turing.
Marjory takes a quick look at Vivian, interrogative.
MARJORY
What do you mean?

VIVIAN
That’s your face.
And she goes back to the pics.

MARJORY
No.
VIVIAN
Yes.

Confusion. Marjory quickly frees herself from the pictures.

MARJORY
I don’t know - not a great
photographer, here.

VIVIAN
You wear the same cardigan now.
Vivian looks at Marjory and indicates the inside of the
house with her hand, gently.

VIVIAN (cont’d)
A second.
MARJORY
Please, no. I’m agoraphobic.

(CONTINUED)
 CONTINUED: 6.

VIVIAN
Agoraphobic.
MARJORY
Yes. It’s a Greek word.

VIVIAN
You fear open spaces?
MARJORY
That is really a misconception, you
know? A stereotype.
VIVIAN
I see.
MARJORY
I fear new situations, new places.
I don’t like change. And strangers.
Like now.
From the inside, Pearl’s voice breaks out. Like from some
speakers. It’s from a laptop.

VIVIAN
That’s mom’s voice.
Marjory silences herself. More of Pearl’s voice.

VIVIAN (cont’d)
We’ve known each other for 30
years.
MARJORY
Do we really know anybody?
VIVIAN
Ms Turing.
Marjory is finally reabsorbed inside the house. En garde,
Vivian follows.
7 INT. MARJORY’S LIVING ROOM - DAY 7
Vivian immediately spots Pearl’s lace parasol. She stops,
takes a look at Marjory. Both of them aware of each other’s
role in the situation.

Cats, outside are always in heat, LAMENTING.

In the background, Pearl’s voice raises in volume...

(CONTINUED)
 CONTINUED: 7.

PEARL (O.S.)
(audio recording)
-Alright, but don’t you laugh.

...as we cut to...

8 INT. MARJORY’S LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER 8
...Pearl’s face, reading from a journal.

FOOTAGE IS PLAYING FROM THE LAPTOP, FULL SCREEN.

Pearl is shot from low angle, inside Marjory’s living room.
She stands looking and smiling down at the operator.
Marjory. Pearl starts her declamation.

PEARL
We real cool. We Left school. We /
Lurk late. We Strike straight. We-
Marjory breaks in a sadistic laughter behind the lens. On
purpose.
PEARL (cont’d)
I knew it! God, I hate you.
Pearl’s smile is genuine, even in silhouette.

CUT OUTSIDE TO MARJORY AND VIVIAN WATCHING.

They both sit on the couch and watch Pearl perform on
screen, unsettled. Marjory looks at Vivian, preoccupied.

MARJORY
She loved poetry.
Vivian looks at Marjory, gelid. An empty statue.
VIVIAN
I know.
Careless, Marjory turns back to the...
LAPTOP SCREEN FOOTAGE.

Pearl now crouches down closer to the camera and keeps

reading.
PEARL
Ok, let’s see if you laugh now.
Smart-ass.
Pearl lies her head on Marjory’s stomach.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 8.

PEARL (cont’d)
Her breast is fit for pearls, / But
I was not a diver / Her brow is fit
for thrones / But I have not a
crest.
Camera zooms right on Pearl’s face. Shakes and jitters with
Marjory’s breath.

PEARL (cont’d)
Her heart is fit for home / I - a
sparrow - build there / Sweet of
twigs and twine / My perennial
nest.

Pearl’s eyes meet those of the lens. In a stuttering, punchy

contact. Freeze.
Vivian stops the playback. She and Marjory stay on the
couch. Vivian stares at her mother’s jittering face.

VIVIAN
That’s not mom. My mother was not a
lesbian.
Marjory implodes. No idea what to say.

MARJORY
I... Pearl felt, I mean...
VIVIAN
I’m not asking.

MARJORY
I’m, sorry.
VIVIAN
This is shit.

MARJORY
No, really. This isn’t shit. It’s
Emily Dickinson, you know.
VIVIAN
This is all shit.
MARJORY
Honey,...
VIVIAN
Don’t call me honey.

MArjory retracts herself. A cat’s claw.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 9.

VIVIAN (cont’d)
Don’t.
MARJORY
(naive, but terrified)
It’s just a poem.

Vivian turns to Marjory. She’s burning, still.

VIVIAN
How can you say this? (slightly,
slowly moves her head towards
Marjory, whispering) You’re shit.
Vivian returns in position, eye-controlling Marjory. One
second. Two seconds. SLAP! Marjory slaps Vivian’s face.
Who’s been revived.

MARJORY
No. No. (pause) No.
Marjory scans Vivian.

MARJORY (cont’d)
I’m not shit. You’re shit. (cries,
ruptured) I. Am. Gold.
They keep their tears in, looking at each other. Cowboys,
without guns. Who cries first, dies.

BREATHS, SIGHS. They’re good cowboys.

VIVIAN
Were you in love with mom?

Answer is some tears. Marjory, then Vivian.

VIVIAN (cont’d)
Did mom love you back?
MARJORY
(whispered)
Yes.
Vivian cries open mouth. Clumsy.
VIVIAN
Did you, have sex?
Vivian SNIFFS loud, but still. Lifeless. Marjory waits for
her.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 10.

MARJORY
Yes.
VIVIAN
Was it good?

A cried laughter breaks Marjory’s stream.

MARJORY
It was very good.

Vivian gives signs of life, nodding her head just enough.

VIVIAN
(crying)
Good. good. (sniffs again) Look, I-

MARJORY
Yes, please.
VIVIAN
Ok.

MARJORY
Ok.
VIVIAN
Um, the tea was good. Too.

In saying that, Vivian carefully picks up the parasol.

Seeking Marjory’s reaction. It’s a splendid parasol.
Marjory looks at Vivian.
Shot, Marjory could use some mercy.

MARJORY
Thanks.
VIVIAN
I hate you.

MARJORY
I know.
BLACK.
 11.

9 INT. LIVING ROOM - SCREEN FOOTAGE - DAY 9

Pearl finishes reading one of the poems. This one is "We
Real Cool", by Gwendolyn Brooks.

Pearl looks at the camera, without reading.

PEARL
We / Sing sin. We Thin gin. We /
Jazz June. We Die soon.

Once again,
BLACK.