BEGINNING A MONTAGE OF MOVIE POSTERS FROM 1973.

The poster for The Exorcist, the eerie light from the window shining on the ominous silhouette of Max von Sydow standing under the lamppost.

ADAM (V.O.)

Looking back, 1973 was a good year for noir. There was creepy noir.

The poster for The Sting, the lighthearted color illustration of the Paul Newman and Robert Redford characters—they’re just fooling around.

ADAM (V.O.)

There was caper noir.

The poster for High Plains Drifter, directed by and starring Clint Eastwood; his gun is drawn.

ADAM (V.O.)

There was gunfighter noir.

The poster for Bat Pussy, XXX, ADULTS ONLY! The illustration of Bat Pussy (a.k.a. Dora Dildo) sitting on an exercise ball, in short shorts and knee-high boots, is not at all as pornographic (or as parodic) as the film.

ADAM (V.O.)

There was porno noir.

END OF MONTAGE.

INT. GALLOWS LOUNGE, GREENWICH VILLAGE, 1973. NIGHT.

A hangman’s noose dangles above the bar, where a sign says: COME HANG YOURSELF. CUSTOMERS at the bar, and at tables facing the small stage, are mostly a Village crowd.

ADAM (V.O.)

The Gallows Lounge did stand-up noir; only dark comedy was welcome there. It was in an area of Seventh Avenue and Greenwich, where some jazz joints were. There was nothing iconic about the Gallows Lounge—it wasn’t the Village Vanguard—but the comedy club was a step up from the cabaret and burlesque shows where Nora and Em got their start onstage. In 1973, Mr. Barlow had just moved to New York. He’d been married to my mom for seventeen years, and he’d taught at Exeter for twenty. Don’t blame the snowshoer for trying to have some fun.

At a table close to the stage, Adam (thirty-two) sits next to PRUE (twenty-eight), a Bardot type—a sex kitten in a condom-tight dress. He smiles at her; she sticks her tongue out at him, not alluringly. Embarrassed for her, Adam looks away.

ADAM (V.O.)

In ‘73, I was dating one of the performers at the Gallows Lounge—Prue, the Tongue Kisser, her act was called. She’d started out in strip clubs, where a comedy act of that name had been badly misunderstood.

PULL BACK: at the same table, Elliot Barlow (forty-four) sits next to a VERY PRETTY, MUCH YOUNGER BOYFRIEND (twenty-four). Mr. Barlow doesn’t respond to his boyfriend’s amorous gropings.

ADAM (V.O.)

The snowshoer was going out with the youngest performer at the Gallows Lounge. His act was called Eric’s All-Gay Band, but Eric was all alone onstage—he was the entire band. Eric sang beautifully. They were popular songs, but Eric sang them in a gay way. The songs were very sad, but the Gallows Lounge was a comedy club, and Eric’s act wasn’t funny. Only the homophobes laughed—the assholes who made Eric cry.

In T-shirts, Nora and Em (both thirty-eight) come onstage—hands in the pockets of their jeans, shoulders hunched forward, a jock-walk imitation of Little Ray. APPLAUSE.

ADAM (V.O.)

To be fair to Prue, the name of Em and Nora’s act had been badly misunderstood in strip clubs, too. They called it Two Dykes, One Who Talks. Nora and Em were really late bloomers when they found their first audience at the Gallows Lounge on Seventh Avenue and Greenwich—where Two Dykes, One Who Talks took off.

NORA

(to audience)

If you don’t know me, I’m Nora. This is Em—my ladylove, the love of my life. We’re a couple, but Em doesn’t talk. She won’t say a word.

(Em shakes her head)

Em is a pantomimist.

(Em nods)

Em acts out; I translate.

(to Em)

As for acting out, Em, where were you last night? You got home so late, I was asleep. You hit your head on my knee, getting into bed.

Em looks contrite and fearful.

NORA

Did you go out with Simone? She sucked the sleeve of your blouse at that French place on Spring Street.

Em contorts herself, both shaking and nodding her head while appearing to beat and strangle herself.

NORA

(deadpan)

I see. You didn’t go to the dinner party with Simone—the slut just happened to be there.

(pause)

Did she suck the sleeve of your blouse again? You were wearing short sleeves, Em—don’t lie!

Em violently shakes her head; she makes an X mark with her index fingers.

NORA

What did Simone do?

Em does a very weird thing with one of her pinky fingers; she instantly looks ashamed.

NORA

The slut hooked pinky fingers with you under the table?

Em pokes Nora’s upper arm with her index and middle finger in a V shape.

NORA

(deadpan)

You stabbed her arm with your salad fork. Did you draw blood?

Em nods vigorously.

NORA

Don’t lie!

(Em looks contrite)

What did you talk about?

(Em looks hurt)

Sorry, not you. What did the other people at the table talk about?

(Em freezes)

Not a literary conversation, I imagine—given that slut Simone.

(Em shakes her head)

So Simone fondled your pinky while people talked about what?

Em lifts her upper lip, exposing her gums; her index fingers point straight down, like fangs. She flaps her elbows, like wings; Em swoops, headfirst, at Nora’s crotch. Nora has to fend her off.

NORA

Bat Pussy, the porn film!

(Em hides her eyes)

Not our kind of porn?

(Em shakes her head)

You mean, hetero porn?

(Em equivocates)

What’s worse than hetero porn?

Em flops one arm, lifts her T-shirt, shows her navel.

NORA

(deadpan)

A parody. The guy can’t get it up. The man and the woman are old and unattractive. They’re both drunk. They’re amateurs. It’s gross.

(Em keeps nodding)

Just tell me the terrible premise of Bat Pussy, please.

Em jerks and twitches, as if her vagina were suffering repeated electric shocks.

NORA

Okay, I get it! But why does Bat Pussy’s twat twitch?

More unseemly sexual gyrations from Em.

NORA

Her twat twitches to alert her when and where a porn movie is being filmed?

(Em nods)

Does Bat Pussy want to stop the porn film or join in?

(Em equivocates)

Both… Is this a parody, or simply the worst porn film ever made?

(Em equivocates)

Both…

(to audience)

A typical New York dinner party. Everyone is talking about a movie they haven’t seen, or a book they haven’t read, but—whatever it is—everyone knows they are superior to it. Is there anyone here who’s actually seen Bat Pussy?

(no hands)

But how many of you have heard about Bat Pussy?

(nine or ten hands)

I heard there’s no penetration in Bat Pussy.

(one or two hands)

A porn film with no penetration?

(erupts, to Em)

But you were playing pinkies under the table with that slut Simone!

(Em is ashamed)

You should have poked her eyes out with your fucking salad fork!

Em violently demonstrates stabbing an imaginary Simone; one hand holds her own breast while Em stabs with her other hand.

NORA

(to audience)

Em says she should have stabbed Simone in her nipples.

(deadpan, to Em)

So you noticed her nipples.

Em looks contrite again. She pouts; she extends her bent pinky finger to Nora, as if it hurts, as if in sacrifice. Nora kisses Em’s injured pinky. Em jumps into Nora’s arms, wrapping her legs around Nora’s torso. In this embrace, Nora carries her offstage—Em wiggling her pinky to the STANDING OVATION from the audience.

Adam stands and applauds, too, but he watches Prue, who is furtively retreating backstage. Poor Prue is not a picture of confidence. Poor Mr. Barlow is trying to applaud Nora and Em’s performance, but Eric pulls the snowshoer into his lap as Mr. Barlow tries to stand. Elliot fights him off.

As the applause dies down, the sound FADES AWAY. The only sound is Adam’s voice-over.

ADAM (V.O.)

I felt for Prue; she hated following Nora and Em. Two Dykes, One Who Talks was a hard act to follow, though the show’s success was a surprise to me. I’d grown up with Nora and Em’s love for each other, and their nonstop fooling around. What they did onstage was their usual business to me. And the snowshoer had his hands full just trying to contain the public inappropriateness of his boyfriend. Eric was a most enthusiastic boyfriend. Like his act, Eric was an all-gay band all by himself. Nora and Em and I loved Eric, but—most of all—we wanted Mr. Barlow to be happy.

The audience takes Prue’s fragile appearance onstage as a signal to bolt for the bar and the washrooms. NO SOUND.

ADAM (V.O.)

Only the first-timers at the Gallows didn’t take a break or a pee when Prue came onstage. Stand-up noir was not Prue’s friend. She was a small-town girl; in high school, Prue believed she had invented kissing with her tongue. Prue hadn’t heard of French kissing; she didn’t know the French had thought of it first, or that other kids in her high school were already doing it and knew what it was called.

We can’t hear Prue’s monologue onstage; she’s showing us her tongue, rarely appealingly, more often grotesquely.

ADAM (V.O.)

When Prue French-kissed you, she gagged you; she bit her boyfriends’ tongues, she made them bleed.

FACES in the audience: people talking to one another, not listening to Prue; the few who are listening look appalled.

ADAM (V.O.)

Prue, the Tongue Kisser was an all-noir act—all darkness, no comedy.

A SOBBING WOMAN, A GRIMACING MAN; they shut their eyes, they cover their ears with their hands.

ADAM (V.O.)

Prue was in college before she saw her first film with subtitles.

INT. MOVIE THEATER, A COLLEGE-TOWN AUDIENCE, 1964. DAY.

Prue (nineteen) watches the screen, open-mouthed, in shock. HER BOYFRIEND whispers in her ear; she closes her mouth, puts her fingers to her lips. We hear off-camera kissing sounds.

ADAM (V.O.)

She saw French kissing done right. Her date said he hoped he could French-kiss her—the first time she heard what it was called. Prue knew she could never go home, where everyone knew her as “the tongue kisser”; Prue hadn’t realized they were not being complimentary.

INT. BACKSTAGE, GALLOWS LOUNGE, 1973. NIGHT.

In a dressing room, Nora and Em console Prue on another performance of unrelenting misery. Prue is changing out of her tight dress, into jeans and a T-shirt, but she still has the Bardot, sex-kitten look. The guitar, from the stage, has a country sound. Adam looks on sympathetically.

ADAM (V.O.)

Nora and Em and I were very fond of Prue, but stand-up noir was not for her. It was time for Prue to stop talking about her history as a tongue kisser. It didn’t help that we always left the Gallows Lounge when Damaged Don was onstage, singing “It Never Gets Better with Gwen,” or an equally awful song. Prue and Damaged Don were the one-note acts at the Gallows. Don sang every song he wrote in the same tuneless drone. Country noir is the worst country there is. Nora and Em and I loved Don, but his songwriting and singing sucked. How he got a major music label and radio airtime is a wonder.

INT. GALLOWS LOUNGE, GREENWICH VILLAGE, 1973. NIGHT.

Damaged Don is performing onstage as Nora, Em, Prue, and Adam make their way to the exit. The snowshoer, forever fighting off Eric’s ardor, is loyally staying for Eric’s act—hence for Damaged Don’s, which comes first.

DAMAGED DON

(sings)

You don’t want to wake up with Maureen. She smells like a farm and her sheets ain’t too clean! It’s bad news to wake up with Maureen.

(repeats with audience)

It’s bad news to wake up with Maureen.

ONSTAGE, CLOSE-UP: on Don starting a new stanza.

DAMAGED DON

(sings)

Don’t dream about diddlin’ Babette. She’s a case of the clap you won’t ever forget! It’s bad news to diddle Babette.

(repeats with audience)

It’s bad news to diddle Babette.

EXT. SEVENTH AVE. S., WEST VILLAGE, 1973. NIGHT.

Adam with Prue, Nora with Em, walk arm in arm together. Only Em isn’t singing along with Don (O.C.)—Em won’t sing.

DAMAGED DON (O.C.)

(with Adam, Prue, Nora)

Your worst nightmare is knowin’ Louise. She’ll drink all your money and give your dog fleas! It’s bad news just knowin’ Louise.

(repeats with audience)

It’s bad news just knowin’ Louise.

INT. GALLOWS LOUNGE, GREENWICH VILLAGE, 1973. NIGHT.

Damaged Don has the Gallows enthralled. Mr. Barlow won’t let his young boyfriend kiss him in public.

DAMAGED DON

(more morosely)

Don’t think it gets better with Gwen. She’ll run over the kids and fuck your best friend! It’s bad news the day you meet Gwen.

(repeats with audience)

It’s bad news the day you meet Gwen.

EXT. CHRISTOPHER ST., WEST VILLAGE, 1973. NIGHT.

Nora and Em and Adam and Prue have turned off Seventh Ave. onto Christopher St., where the traffic is coming toward them.

They’re past one watering hole, Kettle of Fish, and close to the Stonewall Inn, when a bus comes to a stop near the Waverly Place Station. Nora and Adam and Prue are singing the last verse with Don (O.C.), but Em breaks away from the group to take a closer look at the stopped bus.

DAMAGED DON (O.C.)

Just try livin’ alone—you’ll be happy, my friend, ’cause it never gets better with Gwen. No, it never gets better with Gwen.

(repeats with audience)

No, it never gets better with Gwen.

ANOTHER ANGLE: Em looks at her singing friends; she’s pointing at the king-size movie poster on the side of the bus. Em is in an agitated pantomime mode, pointing to the poster, and to herself, making the fingers of her other hand “talk” like someone yapping away. As Nora and Adam and Prue approach the bus, Nora is translating for Em.

NORA

Em says, “I told you so.”

CLOSE ON: the movie poster for The Kindergarten Man, starring Paul Goode. It’s a creepy poster. A little boy, an apparent kindergartner, is standing at a child-high urinal. The boy looks anxiously over his shoulder at Paul Goode, who is lying on the floor of the washroom—under cover of the toilet stalls. Paul Goode is holding a handgun against his chest, a silencer on the barrel. The index finger of his other hand is held to his lips, cautioning the kindergartner not to speak or give him away. The gunman and the little boy are both dressed like kindergartners—shorts, sneakers, T-shirts with goofy cartoon characters.

ADAM (V.O.)

We thought we knew what noir was; we thought we understood how dark comedy worked. Not Prue—she didn’t have a clue. She’d never seen The Wrong Car. But Nora and Em and I knew that Paul Goode hadn’t gone away. The little noir man was back, and he looked more noir than ever.

PULL BACK: a longer shot of the four friends, standing on Christopher St. near Waverly Place Station, as the bus with the movie poster for The Kindergarten Man pulls away.

NORA

Shit.

ADAM (V.O.)

I wanted to tell the snowshoer—Paul Goode wasn’t washed up—but Mr. Barlow was busy with Eric’s All-Gay Band.