symbol of a deeper sickness

a film the title of which i cannot remember.

It starts with

ext. evening. a road with a sandy patch. a barn and some other buildings visible in the background.

a station wagon comes onscreen, stops and dies. a man comes out of it, looks exasperated.

ext. evening.
the man makes a phone call from a pay phone. He says he is stuck. The voice on the other end is not happy. Goddamnit, he says, do you think i want to be stuck in this hicktown backwater? there's no mechanic till the morning because everything's closed!

ext. night.
the man walks towards the barn. faint light and music can be heard coming from it. tentatively he opens the door and goes in.

int.
the light and music come up. There is a full fledged country town party going on, with a band playing the banjo, fiddle, harmonica, spoons and washboard. the man circulates, is welcomed with a drink even though he is a stranger. he makes his way to the band. he is captivated by the fiddler, a lovely young woman and the camera makes her even more so. she looks at him, right at him, he thinks she is playing to him with her eyes.

later he tries to talk to her. she brushes him off, maybe because he is a city boy. towards the end of the night though, she has trouble with the old man of the band, he's far too drunk. she's trying to drag him home, the man offers his assistance, and eventually she relents.

ext. night.
he always gets like this when we have a big party, she says as they drag his comatose body across the road to their house. they get him in through the door with difficulty. That's his room over there, she says. they put him in it, snoring.

Thanks, she says. You're not so bad. Do you want a drink? The man agrees. they have a drink. You're not so bad either, he says. they make small talk. suddenly they kiss. he presses her up against a wall or doorway, he is telling her how beautiful she is.

They are lying on the sofa, curled up together. he says, come with me. She says, sure, but what about the old man? Don't worry, he says. I'll handle him.

Even later on that night or early on in the morning the grizzly old man wakes and stumbles over to the kitchen. The two of them are there, sitting at the table, maybe breakfast things are scattered there. They are holding hands on the table top, both hands.

What the hell is this? says the old man. behind him, framed by the side of the doorway, is a shotgun.

Well, says the man. I- er- am in love with, your daughter. Smiling.

She ain't my daughter, says the old man, raising his voice. She's ma wife.

ext. same lighting conditions as in first shot. a road with a sandy patch and a station wagon on it.
the man comes onscreen, gets into the car. it starts, chugs, and then the lights come on and it drives off.






a rendition.

They aren't good friends, but they choose the same place to hide and smoke in school. Over time they have built up a grudging acceptance of each other even though they aren't in the same circles. Eventually they break the silence by talking about the thing all boys think about, fucking. They compare some vague generalisations, but eventually get down to details.

G. is always talking to E about how to fuck and what he did with Kelly, how he moved her legs or grabbed her ass. E hasn't had much luck, just some basic fumbling, and is in awe and sometimes disbelief at the sometimes rough and othertimes greedy sex he has in bed with Kelly. He wonders how he gets so much action.

You make her sound like a slut, E says.
Aw, hell, she just loves it, G replies.

After a particularly graphic smoke break description of last night's sweaty rutting that has both of them about to burst, E can't take it anymore. Either he's hot shit in junior high, or a bluffer with a great imagination.

Goddamnit how the hell do you manage to sneak into your girlfriend's room every night? E half shouts.

Shit, she isn't my girlfriend, he says. She's my sister.