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My Best Friends Wedding

My Best Friends Wedding

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Published by api-3732726

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Published by: api-3732726 on Oct 19, 2008
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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my best friend's wedding
ronald bass
first draft screenplay
int. bouley restaurant, new york - night

dim lighting, crowd buzz, a long line of the rich, the celebrated,
the congenitally impatient. everyone in this queue holds a
reservation at least an hour overdue. tourists can't even make the
line. pan ahead to...

... the burnished dining room, the tables of power, the elegant
service. covertly, many eyes are drawn to the one table receiving
by far the most lavish service of all. captains hover, presenting
delicacies, pouring wines, murmuring obsequiously to a guest whose
person they screen from our view. we can see, however...

... the honored guest's companion. ignored, bemused, across the
table. this is digger downes, 36, darkly attractive. kind eyes,
an intellectual's mouth, saville row's most unobtrusive and
conservative chalk-stripe suit. he is gay, but you wouldn't guess
it. loyal and wise and generous, and you might. he watches with a
quiet twinkle, as the captains now step back, revealing to us...

... their most unlikely icon. julianne potter, almost 28, wears
her favorite bulky sweater over a bunch of other stuff she pulled
together in fifteen seconds. she is unkempt, quick, volatile,
scattered, and beneath it all, perhaps because of it all, an
original beauty. dark liquid eyes, a cynical mouth, slender
expressive fingers, which point to...

a variation on our squid ink
risotto. trace of moselle, to
sweeten the stock.

she doesn't like that idea at all. shoots him a sharp look of
doubt that makes him smile. murmur...

don't kill us on this one, it's
a long shot.

places the moist lump of black rice before her. she takes a
surprisingly small amount, rolls it over her tongue. makes dead
flat eye contact with digger. and nods, it's actually quite nice.
the captain breathes with relief. she turns her dark eyes to him.

the tone says they're pals...

i'm writing it up as inventive and
confident. which it is. off the
record, i'll need an extra boat of
the ink. or a salt shaker.

i'll toss a coin.
as the captain splits, digger looks around at the other tables,
which makes many pairs of eyes awkwardly glace away.

is it ever embarrassing, having
your bum kissed in public?

if your ass isn't chapped, you
are not a good-writer of note.

she glances at her two remaining waiters, who shamelessly fawn

is it sad to be an editor, and bask
only in reflected insincerity?

i've adjusted, and thanks for asking.
she leans forward, as if sharing something conspiratorial.

see the pull of a book like
twenty chefs, is not who i
put in. it's who i leave out.

which is everyone you couldn't
get in.

plus some guys whose food i don't

pushes the risotte across to him. he lifts a fork.

this fellow from newsday ever

she shrugs. pulls a cellular out of a large, jumbled bag.

i'll buzz my machine. inventive
and confident, yeh?

she dials. he tastes.
needs salt.

is newsday a real interview, or
just some cute guy you're setting
me up w...

... i don't send you men, anymore.
you don't know what to do with them.

she's punching in her code.
sometimes i do. like for two months.
... weeks.
over the phone, we hear her answering machine...
man's voice (v.o., soft)
hey. it's michael.
and her face changes. warms. just to hear the guileless voice.

michael (v.o.)
god, it must be, what, months, huh?
i can't wait to talk to you. i'm
in chicago at the ritz carlton...

she looks impressed and surprised. fancy place for this guy.

michael (v.o.)
call me four in the morning,
whatever, we gotta talk.

as she hangs up. she still has that look in her eye. digger has
never seen that, and he likes it very much.

who called? the man of the

she smiles. a sweet, natural smile that makes us like her, too.
the bohemian sophisticate has vanished.

no, no, the opposite. that's
my best friend, michael o'neal.
he sounds desperate to talk.

the wandering sportswriter.

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