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Affliction.txt
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"AFFLICTION"
Screenplay by
Paul Schrader
Based on a novel by
Russell Banks
1997
SHOOTING DRAFT
CREDITS
Still-life tableaus. Lawford, N.H., a town of fifty buildings
on a glacial ridge, neither mountain nor plateau. Developed
as 1880's forestland, discarded in the Depression. Winter
has set in. Halloween day. Snowy fields yield to overcast
skies: oppressive, horizonless, flourescent.
-- Wickham's Restaurant. Where Route 29 bends. 24-hour diner.
Margie Fogg works here.
-- Trailer park in shadow of Parker Mountain. Home of Wade
Whitehouse.
-- Toby's Inn. Roadhouse three miles from town on the river
side of Route 29. Everything not tied down ends up here.
-- Glen Whitehouse farm. White clapboard.
-- First Congregational Church. North on the Common from
City Hall.
-- LaRiviere Co. Ramshackle well-digging firm embarrassingly
near the town center. Wade works here.
-- Merritt's Shell Station. Cinder-block.
-- Alma Pittman's house. Like so many others.
-- Town Hall.
ROLFE WHITEHOUSE'S VOICE, thirtiesh, articulate, speaks over
credit tableaus:
ROLFE (V.O.)
This is the story of my older
brother's strange criminal behavior
and disappearance. We who loved him
no longer speak of Wade. It's as if
he never existed. By telling his
story like this, as his brother, I
separate myself from his family and
those who loved him. Everything of
importance -- that is, everything
that gives rise to the telling of
this story -- occurred during a single
deer-hunting season in a small town
in upstate New Hampshire where Wade
was raised and so was I. One night
something changed and my relation to
Wade's story was different from what
it had been since childhood. I mark
this change by Wade's tone of voice
during a phone call two nights after
Halloween. Something I had not heard
before. Let us imagine that around
eight o'clock on Halloween Eve,
speeding past Toby's, Route 29, comes
a pale green eight-year-old Ford
Fairlane with a police bubble on
top. A square-faced man wearing a
trooper's cap is driving the vehicle.
Beside him sits a child, a little
girl with a plastic tiger mask
covering her face. The man is driving
fast --
-- Route 29 tableau dissolves to night. A pale green police
Ford Fairlane drives past.
END CREDITS
INT./EXT. POLICE CAR - NIGHT
WADE WHITEHOUSE, driving, sits beside JILL, his daughter,
ten years-old, wearing a black-and-yellow tiger plastic mask.
WADE
I'm sorry for the screw-up. But I
couldn't help it it's too late to go
trick-or-treating now. I couldn't
help it I had to stop at Penny's for
the costume. And you were hungry,
remember.
JILL
Who's fault is it then if it's not
yours? You're the one in charge,
Daddy.
WADE
(shakes cigarette
from pack)
Yeah.
JILL
Look. Those kids are still trick-or-
treating. They're still out.
Wade watches boys in the headlights, lights cigarette.
WADE
Those are the Hoyts.
JILL
I don't care. They're out.
WADE
Can't you see... look out there.
Nobody's got their porch lights on
anymore. It's too late. Those Hoyt
kids are just out to get in trouble.
See, they put shaving cream all over
that mailbox there. They chopped
down Herb Crane's new bushes. Little
bastards. Jesus H. Christ.
Wade grimaces, holds his jaw. The Fairlane swerves around
broken pumpkins under a caution light.
JILL
Why do they do that?
WADE
Do what?
JILL
You know.
WADE
Break stuff?
JILL
Yeah. It's stupid.
WADE
I guess they're stupid.
JILL
Did you do that when you were a kid?
WADE
Well, yeah. Sort of. Nothing really
mean. Me and my pals, me and my
brothers. It was kind of funny then.
Stealing pumpkins, soaping windows.
Stuff like that.
JILL
Was it funny?
WADE
To us it was.
JILL
But it's not funny now.
WADE
It's not funny now. I'm a cop and I
gotta listen to all the complaints
people make. I'm not a kid anymore.
You change.
JILL
I bet you did lots of bad things.
WADE
What are you talking about?
JILL
I just think you used to be bad.
WADE
No. I didn't used to be bad. No sir.
Where do you get this stuff? From
your mother?
JILL
No. She doesn't talk about you
anymore.
Wade looks at her, wanting to lift her mask, see her face.
CUT TO:
EXT. TOWN HALL - NIGHT
The Fairlane approaches Town Hall, a square two-story building
on the north side of the Common. Exhaust billows from idling
cars as parents and children come and go.
CUT TO:
INT. TOWN HALL - NIGHT
Clowns, tramps, angels and vampires fill the brightly lit
room. Parents watch from the walls as GORDON LARIVIERE, a
beefy fiftiesh man with a silver flat-top, announces the
costume contest. Wade nods to various townspeople.
LARIVIERE
We're looking for the funniest
costume! And the scariest! And the
most imaginative! And the best costume
of all!
WADE
(nudges Jill)
Got here just in time. Go ahead.
Jump in line. Maybe you'll win a
prize.
Jill steps forward, retreats. Wade looks at her flaxen hair,
her blue sneakers protruding from her pathetic costume. His
heart aches he loves her so.
WADE
Go on, Jill. Some of those kids you
still know.
JILL
I don't want to.
WADE
Why? Why not? You know these kids
from when you went to school here.
It hasn't been that long.
JILL
It's not that.
WADE
What then?
JILL
It's stupid.
WADE
It's fun.
JILL
(voice breaking)
I want to go home.
(Wade kneels down)
I don't like it here.
WADE
Oh, Jesus, come on, will you? Don't
mess this up anymore than it's already
been messed up. Join the other kids.
Do that and before you know it you'll
be as happy as a goddamned clam.
Wade inches her toward the circle of children. Gordon spots
them:
LARIVIERE
Wade! And who's that tiger? Is that
Jill? Come and join us.
Jill in the spotlight, joins the costumed children. A former
classmate calls her name. Wade, relieved, watches, then steps
outside for a smoke.
CUT TO:
EXT. TOWN HALL - NIGHT
Wade steps outside, lights a cigarette. JACK HEWITT, 23,
clean-cut, handsome, cocky, stands with CHICK WARD and FRANKIE
LACOY, local boys.
WADE
What are you boys up to?
CHICK
Same old shit.
FRANKIE
You see the damage these little sons-
of bitches been raising tonight?
WADE
(to Jack)
You're going to have to move your
pickup.
JACK
I know.
CHICK
(offers whiskey pint)
Take a bite.
WADE
Don't mind if I do.
JACK
LaRiviere's having a hell of a time
in there. Master of fucking
ceremonies.
WADE
Where's that gun you were bragging
on today?
Jack stops over to his double-parked burgandy pickup, removes
a Browning BAR .30/06 with a scope, hands it to Wade.
JACK
No brag. Just fact.
WADE
(admires gun)
Got you for -- 450, 500 bucks?
(passes it to Frankie)
FRANKIE
Nice.
JACK
(to Wade)
See you got Jill tonight. How'd you
manage that?
WADE
(turns)
Don't forget to move your truck.
(walks inside)
CUT TO:
INT. TOWN HALL - NIGHT
On stage, LaRiviere arranges the contest winners. A fairy
godmother with a wand beams while, nearby, a hobo writhes in
his mother's grip -- a hard loser.
Wade looks for Jill, first among the winners, then among the
losers; she's nowhere to be found. He heads toward a hall
leading to the restrooms.
Jill stands alone in the corner next to the pay phone, tiny,
forlorn. Wade realizes at once he was wrong to leave her
before she had found a friend.
WADE
Some party, huh? Sorry I lost sight
of you. I had to step outside for a
smoke. You find anybody you know
here? There must be some kids you
used to know from school. You want
to go tomorrow? See your old teachers?
Be more fun than hanging out with me
all day.
JILL
No.
WADE
No what?
JILL
(lifts mask atop head)
No I didn't see anybody I know. No I
don't want to go to school here
tomorrow. I want to go home.
WADE
You are home. There are lots of kids
you still know here.
JILL
I don't want to be here. Don't worry,
I love you, Daddy, I do. But I want
to go home.
WADE
(sighs)
Jesus. Listen, Jill, tell you what.
Tomorrow morning, you still want to
go home, I'll drive you down. I'll
get off work or something.
JILL
(pause)
I called Mommy.
WADE
What? You called Mommy? Just now?
JILL
Yes.
WADE
Jesus, why?
JILL
I... because I want to go home. She
said she'd come and get me.
WADE
Come and get you! Shit! It's a damn
half hour drive each way. Why didn't
you talk to me about it first?
JILL
See, I knew you'd be mad.
WADE
Yeah. Yeah, right, I'm mad. What'd
you tell her, for Christ sake?
JILL
I told her I wanted to come home.
Daddy, don't be mad at me.
WADE
Well, I guess I am. I planned this,
I planned all this, you know. I mean,
it's sort of pathetic, but I planned
it. You shouldn't have called your
mother.
(takes her arm)
C'mon, we're gonna call her before
she leaves.
CUT TO:
EXT. POLICE OFFICE - NIGHT
Wade leads her to a frosted-glass door reading "POLICE",
enters. Inside, he flips on flourescent light, dials the
desk phone. More utility room than office.
He waits. There's no answer. Jill looks down.
WADE
She's gone already!
(hangs up)
Gone already! Couldn't wait.
JILL
Yes.
WADE
That's all you got to say? "Yes".
JILL
Yes.
WADE
She won't be here for a half hour.
Think you can stand it that long?
JILL
Yes.
WADE
Where do you expect to wait for her?
Obviously downstairs with the other
kids isn't good enough.
Jill sits in a chair facing the dark window pane.
WADE
Sit right there by yourself if you
want. Wait for her by yourself. That's
fine with me. Just dandy. I'm going
downstairs.
JILL
That's fine with me too. When Mommy
comes, tell her I'm up here.
Wade Whitehouse stalks out.
CUT TO:
EXT. TOWN HALL - NIGHT
Wade steps outside, notices Jack Hewitt and his kewpie-doll
girlfriend HETTIE, 20, sitting in the cab of his double-parked
pickup, sharing a joint, talking to LaCoy alongside.
WADE
I thought I told you to move that
truck!
JACK
Relax, Chief. We're leaving. You
wanna toke?
WADE
(steps over)
You gotta be more careful about that
shit. Gordon or one of those guys
sees you smoking that wacky tabacky
around me they'll expect me to bust
you. And I'll be outta a job.
JACK
Some job. Here, have a hit. Don't be
such a hardass. I know you got
problems, but everybody's got
problems.
(offers joint)
WADE
Not here.
LaCoy laughs: that Jack Hewitt, some guy. Wade holds his
aching jaw. He looks at Jack's young athletic body, his pretty
girlfriend, envies him.
JACK
Well, c'mon, then. Get in and we'll
take a little ride, my man.
Wade looks up to the window where Jill waits, walks around
the front of the truck, gets in.
CUT TO:
INT./EXT. JACK'S TRUCK - NIGHT
Jack's high-bodied pickup growls in low gear as it drives
past Merritt's Shell station toward Saddleback Ridge. Jack
lowers the radio as Wade asks him about deer season; Hettie
leans forward to hear the music.
JACK
Got a job first thing in the morning,
first day of season. Saturday I'll
hunt for myself. Twombley something. -
Er --
WADE
Evan. He's a mucky-muck union official
from Massachusetts. You're lucky.
JACK
Don't know about lucky. The guy's a
full-blown asshole. Pay's good,
though. $100 a day. I got to guarantee
a kill, of course. Which I can do.
There's some monster bucks hiding
out up there.
WADE
How'd you get the job?
JACK
Gordon, he's always got some angle
working. He wants to keep Twombley
happy, I'm his boy.
Wade grimaces as he passes the joint back.
HETTIE
What's wrong with you?
WADE
Toothache.
(to Jack)
You should get close to him. Make
yourself irreplaceable. Guy's loaded.
JACK
Like you and Gordon?
WADE
Right. The sonofabitch couldn't get
along without me.
JACK
(laughs)
Yeah, he'd go broke tomorrow if you
quit him.
WADE
(laughs)
Right!
A car flashes past.
JACK
Bastard's got his high beams on.
WADE
(watching)
Shit.
HETTIE
What?
WADE
My ex-wife Lillian and her husband.
That was them in the Audi that just
passed us.
JACK
Audi's a good car.
HETTIE
What's she up here for?
WADE
Aw, shit, she's here to get Jill. Me
and Jill had a little argument. Jack,
I got to get back, get back to town.
Move this thing, will you? See if
you can get back to the Town Hall
before they get there, okay?
JACK
Piece of fucking cake.
Jack brakes, wheels the 4x4 around, heads back to town.
CUT TO:
EXT. TOWN HALL - NIGHT
Most parents have left or are leaving with their costumed
children. Hewitt's burgundy pickup breaks alongside the Audi.
Wade swings open the passenger door, jumps to the ground:
WADE
Lillian!
LILLIAN
Where's Jill?
LILLIAN, 40, attractive in an ankle-length hooded coat.
Whatever pose Wade strikes, she strikes the opposite. Her
dress and demeanor set her apart.
WADE
Me and Jill, we just had a little
spat. She felt kind of left out, I
guess, from not knowing some of the
new kids --
LILLIAN
Where is she now? Is she in the truck
with your friends?
Jack and Hettie neck inside the cab.
WADE
She told me she wanted to wait for
you. Inside.
Jill at the window in her tiger mask. Lillian waves; Jill
motions she'll be down.
LILLIAN
While you went off for a few beers
with your friends? Is that Hettie
Rodgers there, with whatzizname?
WADE
Yeah.
LILLIAN
She's grown up some, hasn't she?
WADE
Oh, Jesus, lay off, will you? It
looks like you've won this fucking
round already, so lay off a little,
for Christ's sake.
HORNER, 45, Lillian's new husband, thin with thinning hair
and a Tyrolean hat, sees Jill at the entrance and heads toward
her.
WADE
Horner! Leave her be. This's got
nothing to do with you, so just act
like the chauffeur. Got it?
HORNER
Wade. Nobody wants any trouble.
Horner greets Jill, walks her to the silver Audi. Passing
parents, listening, give Wade a wide berth.
WADE
I don't want her to go, Lillian.
LILLIAN
Don't cause a scene. No one's trying
to win any 'rounds'. Don't make it
any worse.
WADE
I'm not making it any worse. You
are. Me and Jill could've worked
this thing out. It's normal, it's
even normal for me to get a little
touchy about it. Believe it or not.
How do you think this makes me look,
treating her like some tragic victim
or something?
Horner opens the car door for Jill, shuts it. Wade shoves
him:
WADE
Just wait till we're through,
goddamnit!
Horner's hat falls. Lillian, icy, stares at Wade. He backs
off. Wade sometimes wonders: how'd Lillian Pittman of Lawford,
N.H., get so much class?
WADE
Don't you say a word. I didn't hit
him. I'm not going to hit anybody.
Horner sits behind the wheel. Lillian silently stares Wade
up and down, gets in the car beside Jill. The automatic locks
latch as the Audi drives away. Its taillights merge with
vanishing traffic.
Wade looks down, picks up Horner's dark green Tyrolean hat,
examines it, as if unsure of its function.
Wade walks toward Town Hall. MARGIE FOGG, exiting, greets
him:
MARGIE
New hat?
(no answer)
Jill's up, I see.
WADE
(vague)
For a while.
MARGIE
How's she doing?
WADE
Okay. She's fine.
MARGIE
You two want to do anything tomorrow
and need a third party, give me a
call, okay? I'm off.
NICK WICKHAM, 45, Marg's boss, passes by:
WICKHAM
Like hell you are. Tomorrow's first
day of deer season. I'll need you at
least in the morning.
MARGIE
(shrugs)
Well, that's that.
NICK
(walks off)
Take care, Wade.
WADE
You be careful of that little bastard.
He's dying to get in your pants, you
know.
MARGIE
(laughs)
Don't worry. I can protect my virtue.
I mean, c'mon, Wade, give me a break.
WADE
See you tomorrow, maybe.
MARGIE
You okay?
WADE
Yeah.
Wade, lost in thought, continues toward Town Hall. At the
door, LaRiviere, one of the last to leave, eyes him. Wade
tosses Horner's hat inside.
WADE
Tomorrow, Gordon.
LARIVIERE
Watch this snow. It's coming down
tonight.
Wade nods as he lights a cigarette. Alone, he watches the
last cars pull out. He holds his jaw.
CUT TO:
EXT. WADE'S TRAILER HOME - DAWN
Pre-dawn light silhouettes a dozen weather-beaten mobile
homes set off Route 29. Snow continues to fall. A sheet of
white stretches down Parker mountain.
CUT TO:
INT. WADE'S TRAILER - DAWN
6:40. A clock radio pierces the silence with classic rock.
Wade Whitehouse rolls over, runs his tongue across mossy
teeth, shuts off the music. He looks out the window, grunts:
"Shit!" He steps over to the phone by the frayed plaid couch,
dials.
Wade's trailer is surprisingly neat, considering its owner
smokes too much, drinks too much, eats take-out and rarely
cleans up.
WADE
(on phone)
Lugene? Wade. Hoya doin?
(fumbles for cigarette)
Look, I was wondering, with the snow
and all, if you got school today?
(lights cigarette)
How the hell do I know? You're the
principal. All I'm supposed to do is
direct traffic from 7:30 to 8:30.
(listens)
Yeah, okay, I'm sorry -- I only just
now saw it was snowing, that's all.
My whole day is fucked. I gotta plow
all day. If I don't get over to
LaRiviere's early enough, I'm stuck
with the grader. I was just hoping
you'd have called school off.
(beat)
You check the weather bureau?
(acquiesces)
Okay, I hear you. I'll be over in a
bit.
(hangs up)
CUT TO:
EXT. WADE'S TRAILER HOME EARLY - MORNING
Jack Hewitt's 4x4 passes Wade's trailer, continues up 29.
Tire chains splice the path.
CUT TO:
EXT. JACK'S TRUCK EARLY - MORNING
Jack behind the wheel. Beside him EVAN TWOMBLEY, 60, fleshy,
Irish, wearing brand new scarlet wool pants, jacket and cap.
He feeds on the misfortunes of others.
TWOMBLEY
It's not enough snow, not for tracking
the bastards. No advantage there,
kid.
JACK
Don't worry, Mr. Twombley, I know
where those suckers are. Rain or
shine, snow or no snow. I know deer.
We'll kill us a buck today.
Guaranteed. Before ten.
TWOMBLEY
Guaranteed, eh?
JACK
Yep. Right about now the does are
holing up in the brush piles. The
bucks are right behind them and we're
right behind the bucks.
(gestures to gun rack)
This gun gets fired before ten
o'clock. Whether it kills a deer or
not is more less up to you. I'll put
you inside 30, 35 yards of a buck
the first four hours of the season.
That's what you're paying me for,
ain't it?
TWOMBLEY
Damn straight!
Hewitt looks at Twombley's rifle: a Winchester M-94 pump-
action, custom carved stock and not a scratch on it. Never
fired, at least not by Twombley.
JACK
Done much shooting with that rifle
yet?
TWOMBLEY
(eyes him)
Tell you what. You get me close to a
big buck by ten, kid, there's another
hundred bucks in it.
JACK
If you get it?
TWOMBLEY
Yeah.
JACK
You might not kill it.
TWOMBLEY
You think so.
JACK
You might gut-shoot it or cripple it
for somebody else to find and tag.
Can't guarantee that won't happen,
especially with a new gun. I may
have to shoot it.
TWOMBLEY
You take care of your end, kid, I'll
take care of mine.
JACK
Mmm.
TWOMBLEY
You understand what I'm saying? I
want a deer, a dead one, not a cripple
or whatthefuck.
JACK
I get it.
(disdain)
No sweat. You'll get yourself a deer
and you'll get him dead. And you'll
have him by coffee time.
TWOMBLEY
And you'll get your extra hundred
bucks.
JACK
(smiles)
Wonderful!
The pickup disappears behind a curve of pine and spruce trees.
CUT TO:
EXT. SCHOOL - MORNING
Wade Whitehouse, wearing a reflective vest, waves a district
school bus into the parking lot. Noisy, jostling grade
schoolers emerge from the bus. Jill's former classmates.
Straight as a statue, Wade holds back traffic. Cars and trucks
are backed up on the unplowed road. Horns honk and bleat; a
woman's voice yells, "Whitehouse, we 'ain't got all day!"
Wade, daydreaming, seems oblivious to the commotion. Oblivious --
or just plum contrary.
A shiny black BMW approaches, speeding, passing traffic on
the shoulder. A man and a woman in a fur coat sit in front,
two children in back. Whitehouse waves for it to stop.
The BMW accelerates through the intersection, ignoring Wade
and the traffic. It whizzes past, spinning Wade, and is
quickly up the road, spewing ice and exhaust. Wade slips to
one knee. Honking ensues; every car goes where it wishes.
Wade, brushing off snow, follows the last bus as it pulls
in. LUGENE BROOKS, 60, school principal, rushes over: