Blackeyes (1989) - full transcript
Blackeyes is an attempt to explore "what does go on between men and women in their heads, to show the possibilities of the ways that they see each other." Complex and multi-layered, the interweaving narrative threads include novelist Maurice James Kingsley who appropriates accounts by his niece Jessica about her life as a professional model. Kingsley's embellishments become a trashy bestseller, "Sugar Bush," tracing the rise and decline of fictional fashion model Blackeyes, victimized by men. Angry and betrayed, Jessica begins to rewrite Kingsley's novel to set Blackeyes free from the abuse of men.
Let this be a lesson
to you officer.
Don't mess around with toy boats
on the bleeding pond.
Yes, sir.
She was something special,
whoever or whatever she was.
My Christ, this was a beauty.
Yes, sir.
Back yourself up, lad.
Okay, sir.
The question is, why
be a snitch, will you?
The question is,
did she wait until dark
to do this to herself
or did somebody else
give her a helping hand?
[bright upbeat music]
Spit on me, spit on me.
No, no, Jessica, I don't
want to write a dirty book.
I'm not a gasp and
groan merchant.
No plastic, male fantasies,
thank you very much.
I want to hunt
down a real woman.
[bright jazz music]
A model, Jessica,
like you used to be.
I want to find out
what it was like.
I want you to tell me
exactly what happened to you
and where and how.
Nobody will recognise
you, of course.
I'll change names, places,
that sort of thing,
I'll even change the
colour of your hair,
your eyes.
Give me the facts and I'll
adorn them in my own way.
Trust me, my dear.
Trust me, I won't let you down.
I want you to open up your
life to your old uncle.
Open up like the
petals of a primrose
after a summer shower.
[Jessica] My life.
[Maurice] What?
[Jessica] In your words.
[Maurice] You see my dear,
I propose to create an
enchanting creature.
[Jessica] Oh, yes.
With your experience of
that world to help me.
An enchanted creature
in a fairy tale.
Fairy tale?
Once upon a never.
Her skin was as white as snow,
her hair as black as ebony,
and her lips as red as the blood
that had not yet been spilled.
There's no bonking in
fairytales Uncle Maurice.
Bonking, what's that?
Ah, no, but there's
lots of cruelty,
that's the only way they
could fit in a happy ending.
[eerie music]
The single white sail
of a child's toy boat,
dipping in the dawn light,
was the only but in different
witness to her melancholy.
The water came over
her shining boots,
swallowed up her
knees and long thighs,
and then made a line around
the naked swell of her belly.
In next to no time,
there was nothing but
her head to be seen,
then a few strands of
floating black hair,
and soon she was
completely submerged
with no sign of
fuss or struggle.
[applauding]
It must not be presumed,
that I wouldn't be so
brutishly inelegant
as to conclude my, no doubt,
already grievously
inadequate novel,
with the suspended
word struggle.
[audience laughing]
And soon she was
completely submerged
with no sign of
fuss or struggle.
Whatever traces she may have
left on the lives of others,
this girl, she had gone
now, without a ripple.
The waters smoothed itself flat
and reflected back to the sky.
[audience applauding]
You, killer.
I want you to entrust me
with your life, Jessica,
your days as a model,
things that happened to you,
all that sort of thing.
-My life.
-I'd like you to begin
by telling us who
you are, angel,
your name please.
What's wrong, angel,
cat got your tongue?
My name is Blackeyes.
Oh, is it now?
And were you told by any chance
that I wanted to
look at fair damsels,
only fair damsels,
ladies with blonde locks,
ladies with blue eyes, yes?
Ladies with complexions
of peaches and yoghourt.
What sorts of yoghourt?
Wit no less.
Nobody said anything
to me about yoghourt,
I would have remembered.
Well, isn't that
just too tedious.
Tedious for you, tedious for me.
I'm afraid you rather
wasted your time, angel.
I'm so sorry.
Mr. Stilk.
There was something.
It seems to me that since
the young lady is here
and the last one we
are seeing today,
why not let her have a go?
It's not exactly as
though we've already hit
upon the ideal candidate, is it?
That would be different matter.
No, we haven't
found the right one.
No, I think perhaps we
need a little more patience
for that Mr. Jamieson.
But, yes, why not?
Thank you.
What did you say you
called yourself dear?
Blackeyes.
Blackeyes.
What we have here, Blackeyes,
is a dry run
audition, understand?
Now, no sort of
formal structure's
gonna be imposed on you, okay?
In other words, Blackeyes,
there is no carapace,
no hard shell.
Or hard shell, come to that.
All is fluid, plastic,
it is about your
perceptual parameters,
-your inventiveness.
-Yes.
What?
Yes, I said yes.
Yes, you said yes.
Yes, what?
Yes, what about?
About all of that.
Try not to interrupt please.
Okay, let's begin again.
In terms of the basic order
of things, the reality,
there is a bottle on the table.
Yes.
There is a bottle on the table,
there is music,
there will be light,
which can and will change
colour and intensity
and there is you.
Me?
Yes.
My sweet Christ, yes.
We want, I want, to see what
happens when the bottle,
the you and the music
are put together,
that's the dry run.
You can do anything you
yourself choose to do.
Let me tell you my girl,
you're a damn fine filly
yourself, always thought so.
Yes, you have.
[slow orchestral music]
Go ahead, please.
That's it my little one,
dream your pretty little dreams.
May I venture to ask,
because I'm sure we're
all dying to know,
just what exactly do you
think is in the bottle?
Something delicious.
My dear young lady,
it is a body lotion.
A moisturiser, which
is also a sun filter,
and also an anti cellulite.
You rub it in, tub it in.
But you may drink it
if you really want to.
Tell us what it
tastes like, dear.
When I sit to rub
it in Mr. Stilk,
I didn't mean that
you want to do so.
I think the joke
is over, don't you?
Do you want me to use it, sir?
I'm afraid you rather squandered
your allocation, dear.
You were given four minutes
and I don't think you did...
Yes, use it.
[All] Use it, use it.
Really, I don't know why
you want me here at all?
Calm, calm, calm.
No, this is demeaning.
Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.
You know very well how
much we all value you,
but don't we, gentlemen?
This whole setup is yours,
these are your ideas,
your parameters.
This is humiliating.
But the young lady
might as well continue
now that we've
had out amusement.
Might she not.
Guess who, flower?
She felt his look go
through her to the middle.
The music had begun gain,
suggesting the sea,
a blanched ocean
like a bed sheet ramping
against the naked sand.
Blackeyes willowed
a little at the hips
as her emptied out
thoughts picked up
and clung to the thread
of the saxophone,
she followed it past
a shingle of violins
and arm out into the
deepest part of the sea.
A sigh that was almost
a shadow of release
went up from the
seated gentlemen.
Her nipples had spoken to them.
"Have we got a job?" they asked.
"Yes, we've got the
job," they said.
The tacky ooze
trickled towards them,
the oil of anointment.
She was moving amongst the
fishes and the waving front.
"I am a mermaid,"
whispered the music
at the edge of her mind.
"I am a mermaid," said
her own thoughts in echo,
"a mermaid."
There's some sort of
reflection happening here.
There's a very definite upshine,
you know what I mean?
It's ruining what is in fact
a terrific set of head shots.
Ah, your top.
Your top, Blackeyes, it's
coming up from your top.
I mean, that's why I
said for you to wear
off the shoulder
in the first place.
You see skin,
skin don't reflect the same.
Damn it, it is you're bloody
top love after all that,
would you believe it?
No, I don't think that we
should compromise it, do you?
I mean, you don't get
anywhere in this business
by accepting second best.
Take it off.
Sure.
Oh, you're a professional.
What more can one say?
You're gonna go a long way.
I mean, it's the
attitude that counts
as well as everything
else it takes body-wise.
You with me?
Yes.
Okay.
Yes.
Your bra, it's almost the
same colour as your top,
isn't it, darling?
Now, same colour, same problem.
Do you think?
You cruel old devil.
I hope it chokes you.
That one.
That one, are you sure?
That one.
Oh, yes, that's the one.
If you want my little chickadee.
Yes, yes.
You shall have it.
But are you sure that of all
his lonely little dollies
who have no mommy,
that that is the
one you really want?
Yes.
Well, well, well,
and what will you give me?
Will you give me a big kiss?
Or is that just for dolly?
* 'll never smile again *
* Until I smile at you *
* I'll never laugh again *
* What good would it do *
Spit on me.
* For tears would fill my eyes *
* My heart would realise *
* That our romance is through *
* I'll never love again *
* I'm so in love with you *
* I'll never thrill again *
* To somebody new *
* Within my heart *
* I know I will never start *
* To smile again *
* Until I smile at you *
[Blackeyes] Jessica, get me
out of this story, please.
The dirty old man.
I'm sick.
What?
I heard a dance band.
What do you mean you feel sick?
S-I-C-K.
Before these big palaces
on the south coast,
coy ain't they grand,
marooned in her own
past, of course,
pic holding worth it?
Sick, we're all sick.
That's why they have these
fancy dress things and whatnot.
Nostalgia, playing
all the old numbers.
I'd hate to go myself.
Christ embalming fluid.
I've got better stuff
than that in my own loins.
It was nice.
The music, it sounded nice.
Not for a modern girl
like you darling.
You move to a different tune.
We'll do this again really soon.
Thank you, I enjoyed it.
Me too.
I know where to find you.
Tomorrow tea time maybe,
when you finished the shoot.
[slow jazz music]
Sure, why not.
* The touch of your
lips upon my brow *
* Your lips that
are cool and sweet *
* Such tenderness lies
in their soft caress *
* My heart forgets to beat *
* The touch of your
hands upon my head *
* The love in your
eyes, ashine *
[Jeff] Come on, Jessica,
let me rewrite
Kingsley's bloody book.
* The touch of your
hands upon my head *
* The love in your
eyes, ashine *
* And now at last
the moment divine *
Me, my story, mine.
[Jeff] The old fraud
has stolen your life,
but the girl on the
pages is the one I want.
[Jessica] Me, my story.
[Jeff] She's somewhere
in your past lovely lady,
somewhere in your head.
Shit.
[upbeat music]
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Little bitty pretty one *
* Come on and talk-a to me *
* A-lovey dovey dovey one *
* Come sit down on my knee *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Tell you a story *
* Happened long time ago *
* Little bitty pretty one *
* I've been watchin' you grow *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Little bitty pretty one *
* Come on and talk-a to me *
* A-lovey dovey lovey one *
* Come sit down on my knee *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Woahhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-Oh *
* Woahhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Woahhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Woahhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Ohhhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Ohhhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Ohhhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Ohhhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Ohhhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
Christ.
I'm trapped, I'm trapped,
I'm trapped, I'm trapped,
I'm trapped, I'm trapped.
Jesus, why won't you help?
[Blackeyes] I'm trapped,
I'm drowning in an
old man's filth.
Help me, Jessica,
help me, Jessica.
That's the idea,
retire from the fame, yes.
I can't say I care too much
for country life, do you?
I like to open my front
door on the streets.
God, I like this room.
Jolly nice, isn't it?
It's all right.
And so are you.
Oh my gosh, yes I'll say.
You look very good at this
sort of thing, you know.
It's not any of the walls
that are wall at you.
Wood, all wood everywhere.
There's cladding,
do you understand?
No.
I didn't think you would.
No, not a splendid young girl.
My God, you are a lovely.
What's the matter?
I'm tired.
Go on, you're tired.
Oh, no.
You're to young.
Little girl.
Likkle girlie.
You've no wooden
walls around you.
Actually, I think
you're more like a cat,
one of those slick and slinky.
No.
Oh, yes.
No.
Oh, my God.
No.
Oh, yes.
Stop it.
Look at that, be fair, be fair.
I don't want it, no.
All right, bash it all.
You're more much of a
sport, are you my girl?
It's all very well.
You just can't.
You can't just.
No?
No.
Oh, Christ, you sit there
with your legs up to your bum,
and your titties
half hanging out
and your eyes like.
Don't you what it does to me?
You need a good
spanking little girl.
All I wanted was
a little cuddle.
Sorry, no.
-Sweetie, my sweetie.
-No, no.
No, stop it.
Now, don't be silly.
Please, oh, please, just please.
You don't know what it's like.
In much of the
village here nowadays
we have to be more
and more imaginative
with theatrical
production value,
creative boldness,
intellectual innovation.
No, stop it.
Get off, get off of me.
[screaming]
Really, is there nowhere
I left in England
that does not resemble the
centre court at Wimbledon?
Bad mannered, suburban and
full of freaking females.
Stop, stop.
No, no.
Get off.
No, no, stop it.
No, get off me you bastard.
What the hell is going on here?
It maybe better to knock.
Rupert.
A little boisterous for me.
I'm afraid our little girl
is a little bit indisputable.
This is disgraceful.
Disgraceful, I will
not tolerate it,
do you hear?
May I remind you
you are my guest.
Me, you're talking to me.
You, yes you.
Blackeyes, angel, why do you
let yourself down like this?
It's without dignity, now,
isn't it without style.
Can't you see that my darling?
Aren't we all pals together?
What exactly is
the problem here?
I shall smack.
I can't believe this.
Look, I'm not a...
You're not what my dear?
Not a sensible girl.
I'm not a prostitute.
[all laughing]
Laughter, tears, what are they?
Contortions of small
ducts and muscle.
Blackeyes cried a little more
into the cup of her hand,
then laughed some more.
The bubbles climbed in joyous
columns in the crystal flutes,
and of rare English sun
burnt its incurious light
at the windows.
What passes for passion
amongst such people,
blazed its own
shoddy imitations.
Small ducts and muscles.
In time, the lovely young model
with a thin ankle chain of gold,
helped Blackeyes out
of her torn clothing
and then both of them
lay down on the same bed
under the same canopy
on either side of the
English gentleman.
High finance and high fashion
are not necessarily
uneasy bedfellows.
After all, after so much,
what did it matter to Blackeyes?
Did anyone ever expect
her to be anything
other than a commodity?
[Jeff] Yes, I'm watching you.
I'm always watching.
I'm even watching
myself, watching.
It's time you made real
space for Blackeyes, Jessica.
Let her be in your room,
not just your head
and then I'll be able
to see her at last.
Please, sit down.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Do you have any sugar?
Do you take sugar?
I usually do, yes.
I'm not sure that
I've gotten any.
I'm not very good at
this sort of thing.
It doesn't matter, really.
I know I had some once.
No, I mean, sometimes I do
and sometimes I don't.
Actually, I think it
really does taste better
without sugar, you're right.
It really does, does it?
These muse houses
can be very nice.
Yes.
I see the one opposite
is up for sale.
Is it?
I mean, whoever buys it
can look straight
across and see.
And see what?
Us drinking tea.
Goodness.
Yes, I'm not exactly
at ease, am I?
Aren't you.
Listen, I...
Yes.
I can't say I care too
much for city life, do you?
I'd like to open my front door
onto fields and.
I like this room though,
small is beautiful.
Beat that shoemaker.
It's all right.
It's very nice.
It's just for me,
nobody else comes here.
What, never?
You're the first.
So I have penetrated
the inner sanctum.
I get laid other places,
hotel rooms mostly
Oh.
What?
Many.
What are those?
No, I mean men, many men.
Yes, many, many.
Sure, that's your...
Very many.
I've lost count.
I got laid other places,
hotel rooms mostly.
[Blackeyes moaning]
What?
[Jeff] Many?
Hotel rooms.
[Jeff] No, I mean
men, I mean many men.
Yes, many, many.
Sure, I mean that's your...
Nice tea.
No, there isn't any.
Sorry.
Sugar.
It's fine, really.
Oh, Christ.
Blackeyes.
Look, if you wanna go to bed,
that's all right by me.
Otherwise,
I don't think we should
compromise you, do you?
No.
[Blackeyes] I mean, it's
the attitude that counts
as well as everything
it takes body-wise.
[Jeff] You poor cow.
[Blackeyes] What do you want?
[Jeff] Oh, bloody idiot.
Why do you say these things?
What's the matter with you?
I wanted.
Shit, shit, shit.
I'm sorry, this is ridiculous.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
Let's talk.
What about?
You.
No, thank you.
No, thank you.
All right, let's
talk about my book,
talk about that?
Trouble is I haven't
written a word of it.
Yet.
[Blackeyes] What's it about?
Well, my novel?
It's about a
disappointed obsessive
who cannot stop spying on
the woman who lives opposite.
He's like an ornithologist.
I mean, he's watching her
every little movement.
He sees everything she does,
he studies her.
[Blackeyes] Does she know that?
[Jeff] No, not yet.
[Blackeyes] Does he kill her?
[Jeff] Maybe, maybe not.
[Blackeyes] Don't you know?
[Jeff] It was Kingsley
who kills you by love
and I read about
it over and over.
What else can I do?
The last complete
day of her life
before Blackeyes drowned
herself in cold water
and icier despair,
was that serenely bright
under its blue glaze
as any day in England can
ever reasonably aspire to be.
Do you know how much
this is costing?
So come on, what's wrong?
What's really wrong?
I don't know how
to ride this thing.
Stop it please, please.
-I don't know how to ride.
-Oh, shut up.
Look love, all you gotta do
is press this
little button here.
Can I say something?
Will you listen to me?
Yes, yes, of course.
I don't know
how to ride this thing.
Shit, shit,
shit, shit.
[Director] We're ready
here, any time you are.
I'm gonna give you a second.
I don't know how
to ride this thing.
Then get off it.
Sure.
Blackeyes, will you please
get back on that bike?
What?
Get on the bike you bitch.
Sure.
Do it then, do it.
All right, now we
know where we are,
let's get this straight.
I'm the director here
and I'm having no
more of this shit
from you or from anybody else.
Are you with me?
Do you'll finally
understand that?
Sure.
No more, right?
Right.
Thank you.
I shall be standing down there,
halfway along between
the two positions, yes?
Yes.
I shall raise my arm
and then when I drop it,
you will rev up this
machine, that's one.
Two, I shall raise my arm again
and then when I
drop it the second,
when I drop it the second time,
you will come down the
road, full throttle,
straight down the road
as though straight at us
and you continue.
I don't know how
to ride this thing.
You bitch, you bitch.
Hey, none of that.
Shut your bloody mouth.
Who do you think you are?
You don't talk to
me like that mate.
We're ready when you are.
What I'm gonna do is walk
back along this track
and wait for you to
drive this machine, okay?
You better try and do it love.
Or else that puffed
up little bugger
will have a heart attack.
I've had enough.
I know.
I've had enough of all of it,
all of it.
It's no big deal love.
I don't care.
I don't care.
I don't care.
I don't care.
[motorbike engine roaring]
Well, that was a busy
all day, wasn't it?
That's it,
that's it my little one,
dream your pretty little dream.
Our Father who art.
Who is a little sleepy head.
* Drove she ducklings
to the water *
* And her shoes
were number nine *
* Herring boxes,
without topses *
* Sandals were for Clementine *
* Oh my darling, oh my darling *
* Oh my darling, Clementine *
* You are lost
and gone forever *
* Gone forever, Clementine *
* Gone forever, Clementine *
How did she manage to
get back into London?
Who?
Blackeyes.
[Maurice murmuring]
What?
Uncle Maurice, what, what,
what are you talking about?
Jessica.
Yes.
You were always my
favourite, always.
Is there any?
Jessica, my dear,
is there any more wine?
No.
No?
Nope, none.
Oh, God.
Finito, like me,
like you.
That's a bad show, Jesse.
That's very disappointing, very.
I've had a sort of day.
If only you knew.
[Blackeyes] Jessica, get me
out of this story, please.
How did she get back?
On the motorbike, Blackeyes.
On motorbike?
Oh, wake up.
There is a gap in your
story, there's a hole.
What happened to the motorbike?
How did she get back to London?
Are you sure there's
no more wine?
[motorbike engine roaring]
When they were ready,
they start painting.
I hate your book.
You tried to steal my life,
like you did when I
was a little girl.
Oh, yes, yes,
but I've worked it all out.
I got Blackeyes out of
your head with no key.
She's going to find
something better than I did.
You've interfered
with her enough,
interfered with me enough.
[Jeff] Were so used to
having their lives expressed
in terms of male voices;
male voices, male
judgments, male desires.
Blackeyes.
Have you broken anything?
What happened?
Jessica, Jessica, have you
gotten me out of the book?
[slow orchestral music]
I feel I've been thrown
off the page by a giant.
What?
Look at me.
Come on, look at me.
Look at my finger.
Giant.
No, no, no, look at it.
Keep your eyes on my finger.
Come on.
Good job.
Are you in pain?
Do you think you can stand up?
My God.
Careful, she's real.
She's off the page.
Jessica's got her
out of the book.
We'll go to a doctor,
I can't send to you
out here, can I?
I can make her
mine, really mine.
Please let this be true.
How are you feeling?
Sore.
But in one piece, I think.
You know you really
were very lucky.
What?
To crush a motorbike,
or to have you come along?
You could have broken your neck.
Perhaps I have.
No, no.
Please, don't be afraid.
I'm just glad I was near.
But, what is this place?
Paradise.
Hey, listen.
It's the name of the house.
No, really, really it is.
When you get to see it properly
you'll know why it's called
what it is.
What are you doing here?
Is it yours?
Well, not exactly.
I'm a glorified
caretaker actually,
so called assistant curator.
This place has wonderful
paintings and works of,
ejecting my job.
I didn't want to be
a paid liar anymore.
Copywriters are prostitutes.
When did all this happen?
Shortly after I,
what's the phrase?
Took tea with you.
Tea for two,
and two for tea.
Me for you and you for me.
* Alone *
Sorry, sorry.
Sorry, it's a song.
Yes, a song.
Sorry.
I thought that.
Yes.
I thought that you
were writing a book.
[Jeff] No darling, I'm not.
I'm rewriting a book.
Look upon it as a piece
of literary criticism.
Look at my hands,
look at my fingers.
A man of letters, yes.
You ought to have some
verse read over you.
Trouble is uncle wankle,
who's a little sleepy head?
Trouble is I can't
remember any poems
and it's getting cold.
If I should die think
only this of me,
that there is some
corner of a foreign field
that is forever England.
Sorry, that will have to do.
No, no.
Oh, no, no, uncle.
Please don't uncle,
I don't want to.
I don't want you to make me, no.
Oh, my God, I'm sticky.
Sticky uncle.
I'm sticky uncle.
* Oh my darling, oh my darling *
* Oh my darling, Clementine *
* You are lost
and gone forever *
Paragraph.
[Maurice] Trust me, my dear.
Trust me.
I won't let you down.
[Jessica] When you are a model
and your looks, your body
is the main thing
you have to sell,
your prime asset so to speak,
you kind of specialise.
And someone else always has
at least one physical quality
that you yourself don't have
like China doll eyes when
yours are something else,
silkier hair, or longer legs
[Maurice] Or bigger titties.
Good girl.
[Maurice] No, no, Jessica,
I don't want to
write a dirty book.
I want to hunt
down a real woman.
* Tea for two and two for tea *
* Me for you and you for me *
* Alone *
Oh, Jessica changed
Kingsley's ending all right.
As her lungs filled,
she at least had
the satisfaction
of knowing that
Blackeyes was free.
Well, sort of free anyway.
Because now, she's mine.
[slow jazz music]
[bright classical music]
to you officer.
Don't mess around with toy boats
on the bleeding pond.
Yes, sir.
She was something special,
whoever or whatever she was.
My Christ, this was a beauty.
Yes, sir.
Back yourself up, lad.
Okay, sir.
The question is, why
be a snitch, will you?
The question is,
did she wait until dark
to do this to herself
or did somebody else
give her a helping hand?
[bright upbeat music]
Spit on me, spit on me.
No, no, Jessica, I don't
want to write a dirty book.
I'm not a gasp and
groan merchant.
No plastic, male fantasies,
thank you very much.
I want to hunt
down a real woman.
[bright jazz music]
A model, Jessica,
like you used to be.
I want to find out
what it was like.
I want you to tell me
exactly what happened to you
and where and how.
Nobody will recognise
you, of course.
I'll change names, places,
that sort of thing,
I'll even change the
colour of your hair,
your eyes.
Give me the facts and I'll
adorn them in my own way.
Trust me, my dear.
Trust me, I won't let you down.
I want you to open up your
life to your old uncle.
Open up like the
petals of a primrose
after a summer shower.
[Jessica] My life.
[Maurice] What?
[Jessica] In your words.
[Maurice] You see my dear,
I propose to create an
enchanting creature.
[Jessica] Oh, yes.
With your experience of
that world to help me.
An enchanted creature
in a fairy tale.
Fairy tale?
Once upon a never.
Her skin was as white as snow,
her hair as black as ebony,
and her lips as red as the blood
that had not yet been spilled.
There's no bonking in
fairytales Uncle Maurice.
Bonking, what's that?
Ah, no, but there's
lots of cruelty,
that's the only way they
could fit in a happy ending.
[eerie music]
The single white sail
of a child's toy boat,
dipping in the dawn light,
was the only but in different
witness to her melancholy.
The water came over
her shining boots,
swallowed up her
knees and long thighs,
and then made a line around
the naked swell of her belly.
In next to no time,
there was nothing but
her head to be seen,
then a few strands of
floating black hair,
and soon she was
completely submerged
with no sign of
fuss or struggle.
[applauding]
It must not be presumed,
that I wouldn't be so
brutishly inelegant
as to conclude my, no doubt,
already grievously
inadequate novel,
with the suspended
word struggle.
[audience laughing]
And soon she was
completely submerged
with no sign of
fuss or struggle.
Whatever traces she may have
left on the lives of others,
this girl, she had gone
now, without a ripple.
The waters smoothed itself flat
and reflected back to the sky.
[audience applauding]
You, killer.
I want you to entrust me
with your life, Jessica,
your days as a model,
things that happened to you,
all that sort of thing.
-My life.
-I'd like you to begin
by telling us who
you are, angel,
your name please.
What's wrong, angel,
cat got your tongue?
My name is Blackeyes.
Oh, is it now?
And were you told by any chance
that I wanted to
look at fair damsels,
only fair damsels,
ladies with blonde locks,
ladies with blue eyes, yes?
Ladies with complexions
of peaches and yoghourt.
What sorts of yoghourt?
Wit no less.
Nobody said anything
to me about yoghourt,
I would have remembered.
Well, isn't that
just too tedious.
Tedious for you, tedious for me.
I'm afraid you rather
wasted your time, angel.
I'm so sorry.
Mr. Stilk.
There was something.
It seems to me that since
the young lady is here
and the last one we
are seeing today,
why not let her have a go?
It's not exactly as
though we've already hit
upon the ideal candidate, is it?
That would be different matter.
No, we haven't
found the right one.
No, I think perhaps we
need a little more patience
for that Mr. Jamieson.
But, yes, why not?
Thank you.
What did you say you
called yourself dear?
Blackeyes.
Blackeyes.
What we have here, Blackeyes,
is a dry run
audition, understand?
Now, no sort of
formal structure's
gonna be imposed on you, okay?
In other words, Blackeyes,
there is no carapace,
no hard shell.
Or hard shell, come to that.
All is fluid, plastic,
it is about your
perceptual parameters,
-your inventiveness.
-Yes.
What?
Yes, I said yes.
Yes, you said yes.
Yes, what?
Yes, what about?
About all of that.
Try not to interrupt please.
Okay, let's begin again.
In terms of the basic order
of things, the reality,
there is a bottle on the table.
Yes.
There is a bottle on the table,
there is music,
there will be light,
which can and will change
colour and intensity
and there is you.
Me?
Yes.
My sweet Christ, yes.
We want, I want, to see what
happens when the bottle,
the you and the music
are put together,
that's the dry run.
You can do anything you
yourself choose to do.
Let me tell you my girl,
you're a damn fine filly
yourself, always thought so.
Yes, you have.
[slow orchestral music]
Go ahead, please.
That's it my little one,
dream your pretty little dreams.
May I venture to ask,
because I'm sure we're
all dying to know,
just what exactly do you
think is in the bottle?
Something delicious.
My dear young lady,
it is a body lotion.
A moisturiser, which
is also a sun filter,
and also an anti cellulite.
You rub it in, tub it in.
But you may drink it
if you really want to.
Tell us what it
tastes like, dear.
When I sit to rub
it in Mr. Stilk,
I didn't mean that
you want to do so.
I think the joke
is over, don't you?
Do you want me to use it, sir?
I'm afraid you rather squandered
your allocation, dear.
You were given four minutes
and I don't think you did...
Yes, use it.
[All] Use it, use it.
Really, I don't know why
you want me here at all?
Calm, calm, calm.
No, this is demeaning.
Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.
You know very well how
much we all value you,
but don't we, gentlemen?
This whole setup is yours,
these are your ideas,
your parameters.
This is humiliating.
But the young lady
might as well continue
now that we've
had out amusement.
Might she not.
Guess who, flower?
She felt his look go
through her to the middle.
The music had begun gain,
suggesting the sea,
a blanched ocean
like a bed sheet ramping
against the naked sand.
Blackeyes willowed
a little at the hips
as her emptied out
thoughts picked up
and clung to the thread
of the saxophone,
she followed it past
a shingle of violins
and arm out into the
deepest part of the sea.
A sigh that was almost
a shadow of release
went up from the
seated gentlemen.
Her nipples had spoken to them.
"Have we got a job?" they asked.
"Yes, we've got the
job," they said.
The tacky ooze
trickled towards them,
the oil of anointment.
She was moving amongst the
fishes and the waving front.
"I am a mermaid,"
whispered the music
at the edge of her mind.
"I am a mermaid," said
her own thoughts in echo,
"a mermaid."
There's some sort of
reflection happening here.
There's a very definite upshine,
you know what I mean?
It's ruining what is in fact
a terrific set of head shots.
Ah, your top.
Your top, Blackeyes, it's
coming up from your top.
I mean, that's why I
said for you to wear
off the shoulder
in the first place.
You see skin,
skin don't reflect the same.
Damn it, it is you're bloody
top love after all that,
would you believe it?
No, I don't think that we
should compromise it, do you?
I mean, you don't get
anywhere in this business
by accepting second best.
Take it off.
Sure.
Oh, you're a professional.
What more can one say?
You're gonna go a long way.
I mean, it's the
attitude that counts
as well as everything
else it takes body-wise.
You with me?
Yes.
Okay.
Yes.
Your bra, it's almost the
same colour as your top,
isn't it, darling?
Now, same colour, same problem.
Do you think?
You cruel old devil.
I hope it chokes you.
That one.
That one, are you sure?
That one.
Oh, yes, that's the one.
If you want my little chickadee.
Yes, yes.
You shall have it.
But are you sure that of all
his lonely little dollies
who have no mommy,
that that is the
one you really want?
Yes.
Well, well, well,
and what will you give me?
Will you give me a big kiss?
Or is that just for dolly?
* 'll never smile again *
* Until I smile at you *
* I'll never laugh again *
* What good would it do *
Spit on me.
* For tears would fill my eyes *
* My heart would realise *
* That our romance is through *
* I'll never love again *
* I'm so in love with you *
* I'll never thrill again *
* To somebody new *
* Within my heart *
* I know I will never start *
* To smile again *
* Until I smile at you *
[Blackeyes] Jessica, get me
out of this story, please.
The dirty old man.
I'm sick.
What?
I heard a dance band.
What do you mean you feel sick?
S-I-C-K.
Before these big palaces
on the south coast,
coy ain't they grand,
marooned in her own
past, of course,
pic holding worth it?
Sick, we're all sick.
That's why they have these
fancy dress things and whatnot.
Nostalgia, playing
all the old numbers.
I'd hate to go myself.
Christ embalming fluid.
I've got better stuff
than that in my own loins.
It was nice.
The music, it sounded nice.
Not for a modern girl
like you darling.
You move to a different tune.
We'll do this again really soon.
Thank you, I enjoyed it.
Me too.
I know where to find you.
Tomorrow tea time maybe,
when you finished the shoot.
[slow jazz music]
Sure, why not.
* The touch of your
lips upon my brow *
* Your lips that
are cool and sweet *
* Such tenderness lies
in their soft caress *
* My heart forgets to beat *
* The touch of your
hands upon my head *
* The love in your
eyes, ashine *
[Jeff] Come on, Jessica,
let me rewrite
Kingsley's bloody book.
* The touch of your
hands upon my head *
* The love in your
eyes, ashine *
* And now at last
the moment divine *
Me, my story, mine.
[Jeff] The old fraud
has stolen your life,
but the girl on the
pages is the one I want.
[Jessica] Me, my story.
[Jeff] She's somewhere
in your past lovely lady,
somewhere in your head.
Shit.
[upbeat music]
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Little bitty pretty one *
* Come on and talk-a to me *
* A-lovey dovey dovey one *
* Come sit down on my knee *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Tell you a story *
* Happened long time ago *
* Little bitty pretty one *
* I've been watchin' you grow *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Ohhhhhhhh *
* Little bitty pretty one *
* Come on and talk-a to me *
* A-lovey dovey lovey one *
* Come sit down on my knee *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Mmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-Mmm *
* Woahhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-Oh *
* Woahhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Woahhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Woahhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Ohhhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Ohhhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Ohhhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Ohhhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
* Ohhhhhhh-oh-oh-oh-oh *
Christ.
I'm trapped, I'm trapped,
I'm trapped, I'm trapped,
I'm trapped, I'm trapped.
Jesus, why won't you help?
[Blackeyes] I'm trapped,
I'm drowning in an
old man's filth.
Help me, Jessica,
help me, Jessica.
That's the idea,
retire from the fame, yes.
I can't say I care too much
for country life, do you?
I like to open my front
door on the streets.
God, I like this room.
Jolly nice, isn't it?
It's all right.
And so are you.
Oh my gosh, yes I'll say.
You look very good at this
sort of thing, you know.
It's not any of the walls
that are wall at you.
Wood, all wood everywhere.
There's cladding,
do you understand?
No.
I didn't think you would.
No, not a splendid young girl.
My God, you are a lovely.
What's the matter?
I'm tired.
Go on, you're tired.
Oh, no.
You're to young.
Little girl.
Likkle girlie.
You've no wooden
walls around you.
Actually, I think
you're more like a cat,
one of those slick and slinky.
No.
Oh, yes.
No.
Oh, my God.
No.
Oh, yes.
Stop it.
Look at that, be fair, be fair.
I don't want it, no.
All right, bash it all.
You're more much of a
sport, are you my girl?
It's all very well.
You just can't.
You can't just.
No?
No.
Oh, Christ, you sit there
with your legs up to your bum,
and your titties
half hanging out
and your eyes like.
Don't you what it does to me?
You need a good
spanking little girl.
All I wanted was
a little cuddle.
Sorry, no.
-Sweetie, my sweetie.
-No, no.
No, stop it.
Now, don't be silly.
Please, oh, please, just please.
You don't know what it's like.
In much of the
village here nowadays
we have to be more
and more imaginative
with theatrical
production value,
creative boldness,
intellectual innovation.
No, stop it.
Get off, get off of me.
[screaming]
Really, is there nowhere
I left in England
that does not resemble the
centre court at Wimbledon?
Bad mannered, suburban and
full of freaking females.
Stop, stop.
No, no.
Get off.
No, no, stop it.
No, get off me you bastard.
What the hell is going on here?
It maybe better to knock.
Rupert.
A little boisterous for me.
I'm afraid our little girl
is a little bit indisputable.
This is disgraceful.
Disgraceful, I will
not tolerate it,
do you hear?
May I remind you
you are my guest.
Me, you're talking to me.
You, yes you.
Blackeyes, angel, why do you
let yourself down like this?
It's without dignity, now,
isn't it without style.
Can't you see that my darling?
Aren't we all pals together?
What exactly is
the problem here?
I shall smack.
I can't believe this.
Look, I'm not a...
You're not what my dear?
Not a sensible girl.
I'm not a prostitute.
[all laughing]
Laughter, tears, what are they?
Contortions of small
ducts and muscle.
Blackeyes cried a little more
into the cup of her hand,
then laughed some more.
The bubbles climbed in joyous
columns in the crystal flutes,
and of rare English sun
burnt its incurious light
at the windows.
What passes for passion
amongst such people,
blazed its own
shoddy imitations.
Small ducts and muscles.
In time, the lovely young model
with a thin ankle chain of gold,
helped Blackeyes out
of her torn clothing
and then both of them
lay down on the same bed
under the same canopy
on either side of the
English gentleman.
High finance and high fashion
are not necessarily
uneasy bedfellows.
After all, after so much,
what did it matter to Blackeyes?
Did anyone ever expect
her to be anything
other than a commodity?
[Jeff] Yes, I'm watching you.
I'm always watching.
I'm even watching
myself, watching.
It's time you made real
space for Blackeyes, Jessica.
Let her be in your room,
not just your head
and then I'll be able
to see her at last.
Please, sit down.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Do you have any sugar?
Do you take sugar?
I usually do, yes.
I'm not sure that
I've gotten any.
I'm not very good at
this sort of thing.
It doesn't matter, really.
I know I had some once.
No, I mean, sometimes I do
and sometimes I don't.
Actually, I think it
really does taste better
without sugar, you're right.
It really does, does it?
These muse houses
can be very nice.
Yes.
I see the one opposite
is up for sale.
Is it?
I mean, whoever buys it
can look straight
across and see.
And see what?
Us drinking tea.
Goodness.
Yes, I'm not exactly
at ease, am I?
Aren't you.
Listen, I...
Yes.
I can't say I care too
much for city life, do you?
I'd like to open my front door
onto fields and.
I like this room though,
small is beautiful.
Beat that shoemaker.
It's all right.
It's very nice.
It's just for me,
nobody else comes here.
What, never?
You're the first.
So I have penetrated
the inner sanctum.
I get laid other places,
hotel rooms mostly
Oh.
What?
Many.
What are those?
No, I mean men, many men.
Yes, many, many.
Sure, that's your...
Very many.
I've lost count.
I got laid other places,
hotel rooms mostly.
[Blackeyes moaning]
What?
[Jeff] Many?
Hotel rooms.
[Jeff] No, I mean
men, I mean many men.
Yes, many, many.
Sure, I mean that's your...
Nice tea.
No, there isn't any.
Sorry.
Sugar.
It's fine, really.
Oh, Christ.
Blackeyes.
Look, if you wanna go to bed,
that's all right by me.
Otherwise,
I don't think we should
compromise you, do you?
No.
[Blackeyes] I mean, it's
the attitude that counts
as well as everything
it takes body-wise.
[Jeff] You poor cow.
[Blackeyes] What do you want?
[Jeff] Oh, bloody idiot.
Why do you say these things?
What's the matter with you?
I wanted.
Shit, shit, shit.
I'm sorry, this is ridiculous.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
Let's talk.
What about?
You.
No, thank you.
No, thank you.
All right, let's
talk about my book,
talk about that?
Trouble is I haven't
written a word of it.
Yet.
[Blackeyes] What's it about?
Well, my novel?
It's about a
disappointed obsessive
who cannot stop spying on
the woman who lives opposite.
He's like an ornithologist.
I mean, he's watching her
every little movement.
He sees everything she does,
he studies her.
[Blackeyes] Does she know that?
[Jeff] No, not yet.
[Blackeyes] Does he kill her?
[Jeff] Maybe, maybe not.
[Blackeyes] Don't you know?
[Jeff] It was Kingsley
who kills you by love
and I read about
it over and over.
What else can I do?
The last complete
day of her life
before Blackeyes drowned
herself in cold water
and icier despair,
was that serenely bright
under its blue glaze
as any day in England can
ever reasonably aspire to be.
Do you know how much
this is costing?
So come on, what's wrong?
What's really wrong?
I don't know how
to ride this thing.
Stop it please, please.
-I don't know how to ride.
-Oh, shut up.
Look love, all you gotta do
is press this
little button here.
Can I say something?
Will you listen to me?
Yes, yes, of course.
I don't know
how to ride this thing.
Shit, shit,
shit, shit.
[Director] We're ready
here, any time you are.
I'm gonna give you a second.
I don't know how
to ride this thing.
Then get off it.
Sure.
Blackeyes, will you please
get back on that bike?
What?
Get on the bike you bitch.
Sure.
Do it then, do it.
All right, now we
know where we are,
let's get this straight.
I'm the director here
and I'm having no
more of this shit
from you or from anybody else.
Are you with me?
Do you'll finally
understand that?
Sure.
No more, right?
Right.
Thank you.
I shall be standing down there,
halfway along between
the two positions, yes?
Yes.
I shall raise my arm
and then when I drop it,
you will rev up this
machine, that's one.
Two, I shall raise my arm again
and then when I
drop it the second,
when I drop it the second time,
you will come down the
road, full throttle,
straight down the road
as though straight at us
and you continue.
I don't know how
to ride this thing.
You bitch, you bitch.
Hey, none of that.
Shut your bloody mouth.
Who do you think you are?
You don't talk to
me like that mate.
We're ready when you are.
What I'm gonna do is walk
back along this track
and wait for you to
drive this machine, okay?
You better try and do it love.
Or else that puffed
up little bugger
will have a heart attack.
I've had enough.
I know.
I've had enough of all of it,
all of it.
It's no big deal love.
I don't care.
I don't care.
I don't care.
I don't care.
[motorbike engine roaring]
Well, that was a busy
all day, wasn't it?
That's it,
that's it my little one,
dream your pretty little dream.
Our Father who art.
Who is a little sleepy head.
* Drove she ducklings
to the water *
* And her shoes
were number nine *
* Herring boxes,
without topses *
* Sandals were for Clementine *
* Oh my darling, oh my darling *
* Oh my darling, Clementine *
* You are lost
and gone forever *
* Gone forever, Clementine *
* Gone forever, Clementine *
How did she manage to
get back into London?
Who?
Blackeyes.
[Maurice murmuring]
What?
Uncle Maurice, what, what,
what are you talking about?
Jessica.
Yes.
You were always my
favourite, always.
Is there any?
Jessica, my dear,
is there any more wine?
No.
No?
Nope, none.
Oh, God.
Finito, like me,
like you.
That's a bad show, Jesse.
That's very disappointing, very.
I've had a sort of day.
If only you knew.
[Blackeyes] Jessica, get me
out of this story, please.
How did she get back?
On the motorbike, Blackeyes.
On motorbike?
Oh, wake up.
There is a gap in your
story, there's a hole.
What happened to the motorbike?
How did she get back to London?
Are you sure there's
no more wine?
[motorbike engine roaring]
When they were ready,
they start painting.
I hate your book.
You tried to steal my life,
like you did when I
was a little girl.
Oh, yes, yes,
but I've worked it all out.
I got Blackeyes out of
your head with no key.
She's going to find
something better than I did.
You've interfered
with her enough,
interfered with me enough.
[Jeff] Were so used to
having their lives expressed
in terms of male voices;
male voices, male
judgments, male desires.
Blackeyes.
Have you broken anything?
What happened?
Jessica, Jessica, have you
gotten me out of the book?
[slow orchestral music]
I feel I've been thrown
off the page by a giant.
What?
Look at me.
Come on, look at me.
Look at my finger.
Giant.
No, no, no, look at it.
Keep your eyes on my finger.
Come on.
Good job.
Are you in pain?
Do you think you can stand up?
My God.
Careful, she's real.
She's off the page.
Jessica's got her
out of the book.
We'll go to a doctor,
I can't send to you
out here, can I?
I can make her
mine, really mine.
Please let this be true.
How are you feeling?
Sore.
But in one piece, I think.
You know you really
were very lucky.
What?
To crush a motorbike,
or to have you come along?
You could have broken your neck.
Perhaps I have.
No, no.
Please, don't be afraid.
I'm just glad I was near.
But, what is this place?
Paradise.
Hey, listen.
It's the name of the house.
No, really, really it is.
When you get to see it properly
you'll know why it's called
what it is.
What are you doing here?
Is it yours?
Well, not exactly.
I'm a glorified
caretaker actually,
so called assistant curator.
This place has wonderful
paintings and works of,
ejecting my job.
I didn't want to be
a paid liar anymore.
Copywriters are prostitutes.
When did all this happen?
Shortly after I,
what's the phrase?
Took tea with you.
Tea for two,
and two for tea.
Me for you and you for me.
* Alone *
Sorry, sorry.
Sorry, it's a song.
Yes, a song.
Sorry.
I thought that.
Yes.
I thought that you
were writing a book.
[Jeff] No darling, I'm not.
I'm rewriting a book.
Look upon it as a piece
of literary criticism.
Look at my hands,
look at my fingers.
A man of letters, yes.
You ought to have some
verse read over you.
Trouble is uncle wankle,
who's a little sleepy head?
Trouble is I can't
remember any poems
and it's getting cold.
If I should die think
only this of me,
that there is some
corner of a foreign field
that is forever England.
Sorry, that will have to do.
No, no.
Oh, no, no, uncle.
Please don't uncle,
I don't want to.
I don't want you to make me, no.
Oh, my God, I'm sticky.
Sticky uncle.
I'm sticky uncle.
* Oh my darling, oh my darling *
* Oh my darling, Clementine *
* You are lost
and gone forever *
Paragraph.
[Maurice] Trust me, my dear.
Trust me.
I won't let you down.
[Jessica] When you are a model
and your looks, your body
is the main thing
you have to sell,
your prime asset so to speak,
you kind of specialise.
And someone else always has
at least one physical quality
that you yourself don't have
like China doll eyes when
yours are something else,
silkier hair, or longer legs
[Maurice] Or bigger titties.
Good girl.
[Maurice] No, no, Jessica,
I don't want to
write a dirty book.
I want to hunt
down a real woman.
* Tea for two and two for tea *
* Me for you and you for me *
* Alone *
Oh, Jessica changed
Kingsley's ending all right.
As her lungs filled,
she at least had
the satisfaction
of knowing that
Blackeyes was free.
Well, sort of free anyway.
Because now, she's mine.
[slow jazz music]
[bright classical music]