1 EXT. BEACH COTTAGE
– PALM BEACH. DAY. 1908
BEA MILES, a fair-haired five
year old girl in a white dress, plays happily on a rock amidst tall grass and a
profusion of wildflowers in a lush overgrown garden. Beside her is a hat full
of flowers she has picked and in front of her a brightly coloured music-box –
around which she is arranging a circle of wildflowers.
Through the wooden frame of
an old swing and the gum trees at the lower end of the garden, Pittwater Bay
can be seen, sparkling silver in the late afternoon light.
With great care and precision,
Bea takes one last flower from the hat and completes the circle. She becomes quite serious now, placing both
hands on the music box, tilting her face up into the sun, closing her eyes and
whispering softly to herself:
BEA I wish…I
wish…I wish…
The sanctity of her private
ritual is broken by the sound of her father calling out to her.
MR MILES Bea…Bea,
darling...
2 INT/EXT. BEA'S CAVE. DAWN
BEA MILES, a 60-year-old ‘bag
lady’ now, awakens with a start in a cave at the mouth of a huge storm water
channel.
BEA Yes?… What?…
After a moment’s
disorientation she realizes that she has been dreaming – the changing
impression on her face revealing the complex feelings the dream has induced in
her.
As she sits up in her ‘swag’
– a rumpled assortment of old grey army blankets – BEA grimaces: her arthritis
is bad this cold winter’s morning.
The cave is Bea’s
‘home’. A wooden packing case serves as
a table. On it are jars of tea and
sugar, a loaf of bread, a newspaper, some books and a vase with a bunch of
wilting flowers in it.
Close to her swag are the
smouldering embers of last night’s fire, on which sits a blackened billy. Leaning up against the rear wall of the cave
is a painted wooden sandwich board placard that reads: SHAKESPEARIAN RECITALS, 6d, 1/-, 1/6.
RATIONAL CONVERSATIONS ON ANY TOPIC.
Another box, turned on its side, serves as a makeshift bookshelf. In it are a dozen or so books.
Overwhelmed by her memories,
BEA looks out through the mouth of the cave at the mist-enshrouded park on the
foreshore of Sydney Harbour. Her eyes sparkle in her lined old face.
3 EXT/INT. CITY STREET. DAY. 1963
OPENING CREDIT SEQUENCE
BEGINS. MUSIC OVER.
BEA, wearing a thick brown
army coat over a floral print dress, a stained sun-visor and with her
SHAKESPEARIAN RECITALS sign around her neck, hides behind a red postal box at a
busy inner-city intersection. People
around her react with frowns, grins and amusement. A little girl looks at her with
amazement.
When the lights change and
the traffic stops, BEA runs as fast as her arthritic legs will allow, in the
direction of a taxi. The taxi driver
(whom we will later recognize as SYLVIE), notices BEA’s approach too late and
is in the process of trying to lock the front-side passenger door when BEA
opens it and drops into the seat beside her; greeting her cheerily.
SYLVIE clearly knows BEA well
but would prefer not to have her in her cab right now; indicating the
respectably dressed husband and wife in the back seat. Bea turns and smiles at the shocked couple,
ignoring Sylvie’s angry scowl.
4 EXT. GENERAL POST OFFICE. DAY
Bea approaches a news stand
in front of the large brown columns outside the General Post office and buys a
newspaper from the proprietor. As she
scans the headlines she makes her way further down the road to where a thin,
leather-skinned old lady - MOLLY - is tending her flower stand. BEA and MOLLY greet each other warmly: old
friends. As they chat, BEA picks out the
bunch of flowers she wants and shakes the last of her money from a small
leather pouch, handing it to MOLLY.
MOLLY won’t take it. BEA
insists. MOLLY shakes her head.
5 EXT. MITCHELL LIBRARY. DAY
BEA, standing on the
sandstone colonnade at the Mitchell Library, recites animatedly to a small
group of university students. Most are
impressed - especially the young women - but there are a couple of young men
who make no secret of the fact that they think BEA is crazy. Carried away by her performance, BEA is
oblivious to her audience’s response.
She finishes her recital to mixed applause and mocking laughter. A young pimply-faced smart Alec hands BEA a
shilling and makes a joke at her expense.
Several of the students laugh.
BEA looks directly into the young man’s eyes and with a few carefully
chosen words puts him in his place, causing him to blush and eliciting
uproarious laughter from the crowd.
6 INT/EXT. TRAM. CITY STREET. DAY
BEA sits on a crowded tram
playing a game with an enchanted three-year-old girl who stands between her
outstretched legs and looks at her with awe.
The girl’s mother, sitting adjacent, smiles a little nervously. The other passengers look on: amused. BEA is totally absorbed in the game. Her eyes sparkle and her old face is broken
by a warm radiant smile. She taps the
girl's forehead - ‘Knock at the door’.
The girl laughs. She pulls the
girl’s ears - ‘Ring the bell…’
As the game continues, a
blue-uniformed TRANSPORT INSPECTOR can be seen moving down the aisle; checking
tickets. Behind him is a somewhat
nervous and apprehensive TRAM CONDUCTOR.
The TRANSPORT INSPECTOR stands close to BEA, hands on hips, and demands
her ticket. BEA, clearly annoyed by this
interruption, refuses to acknowledge his presence. When he becomes more insistent she turns to
him angrily and lets him know, in no uncertain terms, that she has not got one
and has no intention of buying one.
The TRANSPORT INSPECTOR pulls
the cord and the tram jolts to a standstill.
He makes it quite clear that Bea should either pay her fare or get
off. BEA folds her arms, shakes her head
and looks out the window. Everyone on
the tram - especially the TRAM CONDUCTOR - is amused by the officious TRANSPORT
INSPECTOR’s inability to get BEA to buy a ticket. The angrier he gets the more studiously does
BEA ignore him; taking her tobacco pouch calmly from the dilly bag that hangs
from her shoulder and beginning to roll herself a cigarette.
7 INT. COURT OF PETTY SESSIONS. DAY
The MAGISTRATE, with BEA’s
fat file in front of him, looks over the top of his spectacles to where BEA
sits playing Patience with a pack of worn cards at the table reserved for legal
counsel, obviously bored by the proceedings.
The TRANSPORT INSPECTOR, who
has just finished giving evidence, stands in the witness box.
MAGISTRATE I seem to
recall, Miss Miles, that you promised last
week to pay your fares for the next month?
BEA Yes, Wally,
but that was for buses; not trams.
Laughter in court. The MAGISTRATE shakes his head.
MAGISTRATE Fined five
pounds. In default, five days hard
labour.
BEA (cheerily) Time
to pay, Wally. Please?
MAGISTRATE (wearily) Only
if you give me an understanding not to offend again for at least a month.
BEA (sighing dramatically) I can only try, sir. But success is in the lap of the gods.
MAGISTRATE That includes
taxis, too. And any other form of transport
known to man.
BEA (smiles) OK.
Wally.
MAGISTRATE Miss Miles, I
should point out to you that this is your 199th conviction for traffic related
offences. I hope I will not have to preside over your 200th.
8 INT. BEA'S CAVE. NIGHT
BEA lies in her swag beside
the fire in her cave on a rainy winter’s night; propped up on one elbow, reading
GULLIVER’S TRAVELS. She wears a tin
miner’s hat with a flashlight attached its beam illuminating her book. Beside
her, a steaming hot cup of tea and nearby, on her packing case table, a
transistor radio playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. The music brings back
memories. BEA finds it difficult to concentrate on her book. She looks out into
the night rain; absorbed by her private thoughts.
9 INT. HOSPITAL ROOM. AFTERNOON
BEA walks into a small
intensive care ward in a hospital and over to the bed on which MOLLY lies
unconscious. She removes her
SHAKESPEARIAN RECITALS sign, places it against the wall, and pulls up a
chair. She sits and looks with fondness
at the sallow-cheeked face of her old friend; reaching out to push some wisps
of white hair back from MOLLY’s face.
LATER.
It is night now. BEA sits beside MOLLY; lost in her own
thoughts. MOLLY opens her eyes. She recognizes BEA and the faintest
suggestion of a smile appears on her face.
BEA (smiling) Hello
Moll. You’re still aloft. Still with us.
MOLLY It’s bad this
time, isn’t it? (BEA NODS) I’m worried about one thing, Bea. Probably doesn’t
matter. Though I think it matters. I’m worried I was wrong.
BEA You could have
been.
MOLLY He was a good
man, Bea. And it’s too late.
BEA No matter,
Moll. It’s all in the past.
MOLLY It was just a
second ago and I was a girl. And he came
in the front door, so…tall he almost filled up the door.
Molly’s words stir BEA’s own
memories.
MOLLY And I looked
up. (A BEAT) He didn’t mean it Bea. Not the way things turned out.
BEA Things change
don’t they. Quick as winking.
MOLLY Hold my hand.
BEA takes MOLLY’s hand and
holds it between her own.
BEA We’ve had a
good innings. We’ve had good mates.
MOLLY I don’t like
it Bea. I’m scared.
BEA (sings)
“Hushabye, don’t you cry, Go to sleep my little baby. When you wake you
shall have all the pretty little horses…”
10 EXT. BEACH COTTAGE - PALM BEACH. DAY. 1908
YOUNG BEA
(5 years old) sits between her father’s MR. MILES' legs in amongst the tall
grass and wildflowers; her head resting against her chest and her hands on his
knees. A tinkling rendition of All The Pretty Little Horses emanates from the
music box in front of them - its lid now open. Old Bea’s soft singing mingles
with the music box music then fades...
OLD BEA (singing) “Pintos
and bays, dapples and grays, all the pretty little horses…”
MR MILES, a handsome man in
his mid-thirties, takes a distinctive red wildflower from the hat beside them and
holds it in front of his daughter.
MR MILES And this one?
BEA thinks for a moment.
BEA Um...Fan...Blandfordia
Grandi…Grandiflora.
MR MILES (smiles) Good
girl.
BEA turns her head and looks
up at her father proudly. MR.MILES
kisses her on the forehead and picks up a blue flower. BEA looks at it, a slightly impish smile
appearing on her face.
BEA It’s a...
It’s a... It’s a...
MR MILES It’s a what?
BEA (smiling) A blue flower.
BEA bursts out laughing.
MR.MILES hugs her tight and laughs also.
MRS MILES, in her early 30s,
wearing an apron over a floral print dress, stands on the verandah of the green
wooden beach cottage, watching her husband and daughter laugh together in the
garden; a look of contentment on her face.
Beside her is a table covered with a variety of freshly picked
wildflowers that MR.MILES has been pressing and mounting in a leather-bound
book. Behind her, in the house, her TWO
DAUGHTERS are playing with new toys in front of a Christmas tree.
MRS MILES (calling out)
Darling!...Bea!... Lunch.
MR. MILES waves his arm in
acknowledgment but does not turn. MRS.
MILES calls to her two sons who are playing cricket in another part of the
garden.
MRS MILES Boys...wash
your hands now... It’s time.
The tune on the music box
finishes; BEA closes the lid.
MR MILES What did you
wish?
BEA It’s a
secret.
MR MILES You can tell
me.
BEA shakes her head. MR.
MILES hugs BEA tight - playful; insistent.
MR MILES Go on.
BEA Daddy, can I
have a swing?
BEA runs in the direction of
the swing, disturbing two butterflies that she then chases through the long
grass; squealing happily.
MR. MILES gets up and follows
her. In the background, close to the
cottage, MRS. MILES and GRANDMA ELLIE (Mr.Miles' mother), arrange a sumptuous
Christmas lunch on a table in amongst the trees.
BEA has stopped and stands
transfixed, watching the two butterflies that have alighted on a branch and are
now mating. She calls excitedly to her
father.
BEA Daddy, look!
MR. MILES catches up, kneels
beside her; his face close to hers.
BEA What are they
doing?
MR MILES Mating,
darling...to make babies.
BEA thinks hard for a moment.
BEA Why do they
want to make babies?
MR MILES If they
didn’t, there’d be no more butterflies after they died.
BEA (thinking hard) Oh! Where do they go when they die?
MR MILES Nowhere. They
just die.
BEA Where do
people go when they die?
MR MILES Nowhere,
darling. They just die too.
BEA is puzzled and a little
upset by this.
BEA Oh!
MR. MILES watches BEA
intently as she ponders the implications of what her father has just told her.
MR MILES Come on,
sweetheart. Lunch.
He sweeps her into her
arms. BEA wrestles free.
BEA A swing
first.
MR MILES Alright.
The rest of the family had
sat down to lunch. MRS MILES calls out.
MRS MILES William! Lunch is on the table.
MR MILES (off screen) Be
there in a minute.
MRS. MILES is a little
annoyed. Bea's four brothers and sisters are resentful at having to wait.
BEA squeals elatedly as MR.
MILES pushes her higher and higher on the swing.
BEA Higher! Higher!
MR. MILES, infected by BEA’s
excitement, pushes her higher. GRANDMA ELLIE is annoyed.
GRANDMA ELLIE William!
MR. MILES seems not to hear.
On BEA’s ecstatic laughing face as she swings up into the sky:
DISSOLVE TO
11 EXT. BEACH COTTAGE. DAY
NINE YEARS LATER
BEA, fourteen years old now,
laughs as MR. MILES pushes her on the swing - her dress billowing out and exposing
her naked thighs as she swings towards him.
MRS. MILES watches from the
verandah; vaguely embarrassed. MR. MILES
gives BEA one final exhausted push and staggers back breathlessly.
MR MILES Enough.
BEA (laughing) More!
MR MILES Enough.
BEA Spoilsport.
She lets go of the swing and
flies through the air; landing in front of her father, stumbling and crashing
into him. They fall in a tangle of arms
and legs in the long grass.
BEA (laughing) You’re
getting old.
MR MILES (laughing) And
you’re getting fat.
BEA kisses her father
impulsively on the cheek.
BEA (coquettish) I
am not.
MR. MILES, suddenly aware
that he and BEA are lying in each other’s arms like lovers, feels a little
uncomfortable. He rolls out from
underneath her.
MR MILES Bet this old
man can beat you to the lighthouse.
BEA Bet he can’t.
MRS. MILES looks on, worried.
12 INT. PUBLIC HALL. NIGHT. 1917
MR. MILES stands in front of
a banner stretched across the stage that reads: COMPULSORY DEPORTATION OF OUR MANHOOD MEANS RACE SUICIDE. SAY ‘NO’ TO CONSCRIPTION. He is trying to
make himself heard above the rowdy crowd.
There are some soldiers in uniform present, a few policemen and as many
hecklers as supporters. BEA, aged 14, sits
in the front row, proud of her father.
MR MILES Through censorship the Australian government
and the gutter press are whipping you into a hysteria which renders you all
liable to vote a small minority of our sons to die in a war declared by a British
Parliament in which we have no voice.
A MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN, carrying
what looks like a pillow, moves up the stairs leading
onto the stage. As she approaches MR. MILES she empties the
contents of the pillow all over him.
Thousands of white feathers swirl around his head. The noise and violence from the audience
increases as policemen drag the woman off stage.
WOMAN (screaming) Coward!
Coward! Coward!
With white feathers floating
around his head, MR. MILES continues to shout above the noise.
MR MILES This is not
merely a political issue; it is a moral issue...
13 INT. KITCHEN/DINING ROOM. EVENING
MRS. MILES finishes carving
and serving a roast as GRANDMA ELLIE carries plates into the adjoining dining
room. Through the window, MR. MILES, in
a business suit and carrying a briefcase walks from his car to the back door,
his arm around BEA’s shoulder, with Bea's younger sister CONNIE walking
alongside. Both girls, in their school
uniforms, talk over the top of each other.
CONNIE She was
looking for trouble… BEA I
was not. Pearl said…
CONNIE She’s
always... BEA I was not. Liar...
They reach the back door now.
It becomes apparent that BEA has a black eye.
MR.MILES, in good spirits, is rather proud of BEA’s war wounds - which
annoys CONNIE (and MRS. MILES) all the more.
MR MILES One at a
time... one at a time ... sorry I'm late darling...
He puts his arm around MRS
MILES’ waist; kisses her on the cheek.
She does not respond.
BEA All I said
was the boys can go to the war if they want to but they shouldn’t be made to
and she called me a traitor and...
CONNIE You can
hardly blame her... her brother...
MRS MILES (angry) Will
you two stop?
CONNIE Her brother
was killed a few weeks ago...
BEA I’m still
entitled to express my opinion.
MRS MILES Sometimes, young lady, it’s best to keep what
you think to yourself.
BEA Lie!?
MRS MILES No, just be
more discreet.
GRANDMA ELLIE, who has been
carrying plates into the dining room throughout the scene, attempts to defuse
the situation.
GRANDMA ELLIE Come on
everyone...stop shouting and sit.
As they move into the dining
room.
CONNIE I’m sick of
being called Little Miss Bosch and a traitor just because...
MR MILES Sticks and
stones will break your bones...
The two Miles boys appear and
take their seats - greeting their father perfunctorily but respectfully.
GRANDMA ELLIE But William,
the whole family must live with the reputation that each member...
MR MILES Damn the
family reputation. If one can’t express a view that is currently unpopular...
GRANDMA ELLIE It’s dangerous to encourage one so young …
MR MILES I neither
encourage nor discourage, mother.
Beatrice is free to choose for herself what she wants to believe and how
she wants to behave...pass the salt please John.
BEA looks at her father for a
moment, a wicked glint in her eye. She
pushes her chair back, gets up and walks to the piano on the other side of the
room.
MR MILES Beatrice...
BEA ignores him. She sits at
the piano and plays the first few bars of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. MR MILES is furious. All eyes alternate between him and BEA.
MR MILES Beatrice...
What an earth...!?
BEA turns to him with a
wicked smile.
BEA I’ve chosen
to play the piano.
MR. MILES, hoist on the
petards of his own logic, is not sure, for a moment, how to react.
MRS MILES (angry) William,
you can’t allow …
MR MILES (angry) Beatrice!
BEA stops playing and calmly
returns to the table. There is a long
moment of tense silence.
BEA Do you
mother? Keep what you think to yourself?
MRS. MILES, shocked by the
question and unable to answer it, looks to MR. MILES to take control. He remains silent.
BEA Do you think
we should have compulsory conscription?
MRS. MILES would prefer not
to answer.
MR MILES Do you,
darling?
MRS MILES Yes.
MR. MILES is shocked by this
but does his best to cover it. There is
an awful, strained, silence.
14 EXT. SYDNEY
UNIVERSITY. DAY. 1920
BEA, a young woman now, (17
years old) wanders through the grounds of Sydney University, amidst the many
stalls inviting new students to join the DRAMA SOCIETY, the ROWING CLUB, the
DEBATING CLUB etc. It is Orientation
week - the beginning of the University year.
Amidst the crowd of university students, dressed in the fashions of the
day, BEA’s white blouse, skirt and tennis shoes appear quite eccentric. Her excitement at being at University is
apparent.
15 INT. LECTURE THEATRE. DAY
BEA sits in a lecture theatre
with several dozen other students - most of them men. Behind the black-robed PROFESSOR hangs a
biological chart of the 'Tree of Life'.
PROFESSOR...So, in a given environment, members of the same
species compete for survival...
BEA puts her hand up.
PROFESSOR...And it is those best adapted to the environment
that have the best chance for survival. Yes Miles?
BEA (standing) If Darwin is right and we’ve descended
from apes and apes are animals, then we’re all animals too, aren’t we?
PROFESSOR (good humoured)
Some of us more than others.
The Students laugh; BEA
smiles.
PROFESSOR From a
biological point of view, yes.
BEA Then does it
follow that his theories of natural selection apply to man also?
The PROFESSOR, finding the
question interesting, turns to the ‘Tree of Life’ chart, pointing first of all
to the top of it.
PROFESSOR The beginning
of life in the planet, roughly five...six hundred million years ago...
His finger moves past the
various coloured blocks on the chart to the thin section at the bottom marked
'Homo Sapiens'.
BEA (interrupting)
Then it must follow that charity is contrary to the laws of nature.
The PROFESSOR looks a little
puzzled and there is some murmuring amongst the students.
PROFESSOR Is that a
question or a statement?
BEA Well, natural
selection dictates that the strong survive and the weak die off.
PROFESSOR (becoming impatient)
Yes.
BEA And yet
charity, which we hold to be a virtue, involves keeping alive those who would,
in nature, simply die off...the weak...the cripple...the insane...
PROFESSOR That is our
Christian duty...but I fail to understand what all this has to do with
biology...
BEA I’m trying to
reconcile the fact that all men are born equal, or at least we believe this to
be the case, with the fact that in nature there is no equality at all. The
strong survive; the weak die off.
PROFESSOR An
interesting ethical question Miles but one I would have thought more appropriately
directed at your philosophy professor.
BEA But if two
professors contradict each other...
PROFESSOR (annoyed) This
is biology class, NOT a philosophy tutorial.
BEA Yes sir,
but...
PROFESSOR No 'buts',
Miles! Now with your kind permission, I will proceed.
BEA sits, confused and upset
by the PROFESSOR’s attitude.
16 INT. MR. MILES' OFFICE. DAY
BEA paces up and down her
fathers’ ornately furnished wood-panelled office - frustrated and angry. MR. MILES sits on the edge of a large shiny
wooden desk.
BEA I’d be
happier teaching children.
MR MILES
That would be a waste of a
first-class mind.
BEA It’ll be a
second-class mind by the time I finish university.
MR MILES Darling!
Please! Stick it out. For me...
As he speaks, BEA begins to
feel dizzy; the colour draining from her face.
MR MILES Three years
will go by like that...
MR. MILES clicks his
fingers.
From BEA’s point of view, the
image of her father moving towards her becomes blurred and the sound of his
voice distorted.
MR MILES And then
you’ll be free to do what you want.
BEA’s vision returns to
normal: MR. MILES standing in front of her with his hands on her
shoulders. She moves away from him,
puzzled by this sudden bout of dizziness.
MR MILES (concerned) Are
you alright?
BEA (distracted) Yes.
17 INT. BEA'S BEDROOM. DAY
BEA, in a pair of men's
shorts, an open-necked men's shirt and with a green scarf around her waist,
looks at herself in the mirror of her untidy bedroom. She decides against the green scarf, removing
it and hurriedly putting on a red one.
As she races around her room picking up books and papers and stuffing
then into her satchel, MRS. MILES appears in the doorway.
MRS MILES Beatrice! You
can’t go to university looking like that!
BEA Oh mother!
MRS MILES And you’re
not to leave the house till you’ve tidied your room...
BEA kisses her mother as she
dashes out of the room.
BEA No time now.
I’ll do it tonight. Promise...
MRS MILES Beatrice...?
BEA is gone. MRS. MILES is annoyed, upset; concerned.
18 INT/EXT. CITY STREET.TRAM. DAY
BEA rushes down the footpath
to catch a tram that is stopped in the middle of the road. The tram starts to
move off. BEA stops running for a moment, annoyed at having missed it and then,
on an impulse, starts running again, racing out into the traffic, dodging a car
that almost hits her and leaping onto the running board of the tram that is
moving quite fast now. The passengers stare at her in amazement. BEA feels
excited; exhilarated. Suddenly she feels dizzy, as if she might faint. She sits
down. Her vision blurs. From her POV the
world slips out of focus. The sound of the tram’s wheels on the track become
amplified out of all proportion. For a moment the world comes back into focus.
BEA sees the passengers staring at her. Her face is white now and her brow
moist with perspiration. She closed her eyes and sits still for a moment before
falling over sideways and onto the floor of the tram.
...to be continued...
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