Saturday, 15 January 2011

Mongol Gallery Pages 33 to 40

EXT. CHURCH STREET - NIGHT

Nick de Musca, still laughing, steps outside the Mongol Gallery into the street. He turns back and grins, both at us and at Peter.

de MUSCA

This is the way it's going to be Mr Elsingham. Whether you ask for
anything or not, you're going to show Daniel's paintings, probably
publish them, maybe even put them on the Internet. That's all I want
from you anyway. It's not as if your soul wasn't already mine after all.

PETER (off screen)

See I don't believe you.

de MUSCA

Your beliefs are of no interest to me whatsoever Mijnheer van
Helsing, at least not as long as you don't number yourself among
'whosoever believeth on Him', but I find with this secular world
you've built for yourselves, that's so rarely the case. I don't think I
have to worry about you.


Peter walks out into the street and into shot, while Alaric walks into shot from the direction of his shop.


de MUSCA (pushing Alaric aside)

Get out of my way wizard. We both know why you people are called
faggots. It's cos you burn so well. You'll be mine as surely as him.

ALARIC

I'd tell you to go to Hell de Musca, but it'd be pointless. Just get out
of my sight.


Alaric turns his back on the Devil and leads Peter back into the Gallery.


INT. THE MONGOL GALLERY - NIGHT


ALARIC

Put the kettle on Peter. We need to talk.

PETER (making a cup of tea as suggested)

About?

ALARIC

What do you think? Daniel. His work,. The weird magical stuff
that's been going on. Chiliasm. Faustus, the whole kit and kaboodle.

PETER

Can't we just agree to disagree? What about West Ham last night, eh? Great goal didn't you think. Thought the Gooners were going out for
sure until the last minute.

ALARIC

Peter for fuck's sake.

PETER

What can I say? He says it's all going to happen anyway. He doesn't
need me. Maybe I should ask for something. Fame? Fortune?
Angelina Jolie?

ALARIC

You remember who we're talking about? Old Nick? The Devil?
Beelzebub. Lord of the Flies and Father of Lies. You can't even trust
him as far as you could row the Titanic.

PETER

You're getting him mixed up with Peter Mandelson.

ALARIC

Do you see me laughing, Peter? Try to hang onto yourself for crying
out loud. I'm there for you but I know you don't want to hear that
right now. I'm looking out for you but don't make me fucking watch.
Come to my shop when you're ready to watch and even if you don't,
never forget I got your back.


Alaric stands and walks out of the shop, leaving Peter in stunned silence for a moment. He returns thirty seconds later, by which time Peter has made the tea. He has in his hand, a tiny leather bag on a silver chain. He puts it around Peter's neck.



ALARIC

Wear that then. Let's hope it protects you from the devil and his lies.
You're in my prayers. I only hope I'm not out of practice.


CUT TO:


INT. EUROPEAN PARLIAMENT BUILDING, BRUSSELS - DAY


Anna is in a corridor, discussing farming subsidies with a British MEP.

BRITISH MEP

Look, I'd love to help you Ms Kern but my constituents would never
agree to it, not even for your help with ending the CAP.

ANNA

Really? Don't you think they'd overlook it if you could be the British
politician who ended the Common Agricultural Policy. The French
would all hate you as well. Isn't that something British voters hold
dear?

BRITISH MEP

Oh Good Gracious yes, up to a point, dear lady, and this is the point
beyond...

ANNA (eyes glazed)

Suppose I gave you a B...!


Anna stops talking. Her face is pale and she turns and literally runs along the corridor before bursting through into the ladies' toilet. The camera follows her as she locks herself in a stall.


ANNA

Fuck! What's happening.


Anna's hands move away from her body and we watch as the clothes seem to be ripped from her body by an invisible demon. She screams but the scream becomes a moan. Soon sh is naked and moving as if being fucked by the invisible demon. There is nobody there but we see her respond to thrusts we can only imagine.

ANNA

Aaah. What the fuck is happening to me? Get off me. Leave me.
Laat mij zijn! Jeezus. Help me.


CUT TO:

INT. THE BAR OF KITTY O'SHEA'S IRISH PUB, BRUSSELS - NIGHT

The British MEP is clearly drunk as he talks with a couple of other drinkers who may well be fellow MEPs.

BRITISH MEP

Not a word of a lie. She offered me a blow job in return for my vote
on the Fortress Europe thingummy. If I wasn't a happily married man.

ANOTHER DRINKER

You need to stop drinking, Signor. Clearly you are not able to handle
it.

BRITISH MEP

You What. (clenches his fist) Want me to knock your block off?

THIRD DRINKER

Calm down both of you. I believe you. Typical damned Dutch
liberal. Probably doesn't even think there's anything wrong with it.


CUT TO:


INT. THE MONGOL GALLERY - DAY


Peter is examining a painting. It is the one transformed by de Musca. There is some sticky substance on it. He looks around. The only other person in the gallery is TIA a pretty young exhibition assistant.


PETER (looking up but remaining crouched down)

Tia? Would you mind coming over here please?



TIA

Mr Elsingham?

PETER (pointing at the substance)

What do you think that is?

TIA

Don't know.

PETER

So look?


Tia moves closer and touches a fingertip to the substance. She sniffs it and her expression changes from curiosity to fury. She punches Peter in the face and makes his nose bleed before rushing out.


TIA

Pervert! You're old enough to be my dad.


Peter too sniffs the substance and looks shocked. He holds a handkerchief to his nose.


PETER

Fuck.


FADE TO BLACK

FADE UP TO


INT. ALARIC'S SHOP - DAY


Alaric is at the counter talking to a customer.

ALARIC

Of course, Colin Wilson saw everything through his own English
Middle Class perspective. His outsider was very different from that
of Camus. More protagonist than victim of course, but at the same
time, so insufferably bourgeois.

COSTUMER

That's true, but his take on Ouspensky makes much of it worthwhile.


The telephone rings.


ALARIC (answering the phone)

Excuse me... Hello, Hanworth Books, how may I help you?


The customer nods and walks over to examine the books on the stacks.


ALARIC

Oh hello. Are you okay?


Peter's voice is indistinct on the phone.


ALARIC

Seriously? Vaginal secretions? [...pauses...] Well I've heard of tears
appearing on artifacts, even milk, both in statues of the Virgin Mary
and with Hindu Gods. Even blood appears on occasion, but no. I've
never heard of that before. Something unholy is going on Peter. I'm
coming round.


Alaric puts down the phone and picks up an E P Dutton first edition of George Gurdjieff's "Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson". He calls the customer over.


ALARIC

You know what this is?

CUSTOMER

Gurdjieff's first book. 1950 edition I think.


Alaric offers the book to the customer.

ALARIC

It's yours free if you leave this second. I need to lock up.


There is a moment when it seems the customer may demure but he shrugs and takes the book.

CUSTOMER (leaving the shop)

Thanks. I'll definitely be back.


Alaric follows the customer and locks up the shop.

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