Paul Auster: Lulu on the Bridge

Commentary

Whileworking on the postproduction of Smoke and Blue in the Facein 1995, Paul Auster, when asked „Now that you’ve caught thebug, do you have any desire to direct again?“, answered: „No, Ican’t say that I do.“ However, the idea for Lulu came tohim around that time. He saw the story as a movie. He felt burned outby movies then and therefore tried to write it as a novel only tofind out that it didn’t work, it was a dramatic story, not anarrative story, it needed to be seen, not just read. Why? Let theauthor speak: „Because of the stone. Because of the film inside thestory. Because of the dreamlike structure of events.“ The storydoesn’t proceed in a linear way, it works on several differentlevels at once. Paul Auster explains: „On one level, it’s allvery simple. A man gets shot, and in the last hour before his death,he dreams another life for himself. The content of that dream isprovided by a number of random elements that appear to him justbefore and after the shooting. A wall of photographs in a men’sroom featuring women’s faces – mostly the faces of movie stars –and a chunk of plaster that falls from the ceiling. Everythingfollows from those elements: the magic blue stone, the young woman hefalls in love with, the fact that she’s an actress and lands a rolein a film, the title of that film, the director of that film, and soon. That’s the one way of reading the story – the framework, soto speak. There are a number of threads running through the story,and by the time you come to the end, they’re so tangled with oneanother, you can’t pull one without disturbing all the others. Themost important thing, though, is that at bottom it’s a veryemotional story, a story about deep and powerful feelings. It’s nota puzzle, not some code to be cracked, and you don’t have to„understand“ it in a rational way to feel the force of theemotions, the magic there is.“ Paul Auster quotes Peter Brook’scomment from a New York Times interview: „In all my work,“says Brook, „I try to combine the closeness of the everyday withthe distance of myth. Because, without the closeness you can’t bemoved, and without the distance you can’t be amazed.“ Lulu onthe Bridge is also this kind of double work. It is a romance, itis a thriller, it is a story about how men invent women. Paul Austerexplains: „Lulu is a blank slate, and men project their desiresonto her. They invent her. Just as men invent the women they see inmovies. The Lulu plays were written before the invention of movies,but Lulu is a movie star. She’s the first movie star in history.“When Paul Auster started writing the screenplay, going back toWedekind’s two plays, Earth Spirit and Pandora’s Box– keeping to the gist of Wedekind’s dialogue, but modernizing thedetails, the settings, and so on –, he didn’t think he woulddirect the film. The original idea was for Wim Wenders to direct it.However, Wenders had his reservations because this would have beenhis fifth or sixth movie with a movie inside the movie and he didn’twant to end up as a filmmaker who could only make films about films.So Paul Auster took up the job. Again, as in his previous films, hemanaged to get a great cast and great collaborators, the role of Dr.Van Horn should have been played by Salman Rushdie, if it weren’tfor fear of some people involved. So Willem Dafoe stepped in. Theleading couple, Izzy Maurer, the jazz saxophonist who gets shot, andCelia Burns, the waitrees who gets the part of Lulu in the movie, isplayed by Harvey Keitel and Mira Sorvino. Among other faces known tothe viewer from the previous two Auster’s films there are new ones,too, including the author’s brilliant daughter Sophie, appearing asSonia, the ten-year-old daughter of the character Philip Kleinman,the movie producer. Paul Auster enjoyed the challenge of making agreat movie on a very tight budget and the viewer will enjoy thismysterious thriller romance no less.

Script

20. INT: DAY. CELIA'S APARTMENT. THE KITCHEN.

The Katmandu CD is playing softly. celia sits at the table wearing her bathrobe and drinking coffee. She has just woken up. The phone rings. She reaches for the phone (which is mounted on the wall) and lifts the receiver off the hook.

CELIA
Hello . . . (Listens) Who? . . . You're kidding . . . Believe it or not, I'm listening to your record now . . . My name? How can you call me if you don't know my name? . . . Oh. I see . . . Celia Burns. (Listens. Pronounces name more clearly) Celia Burns. ... All right. If it's that important . . . Okay . . . Two-fifty-eight West Twenty-fifth Street. Second floor . . . Fine. I'll see you then. (Hangs up, completely perplexed)


21. INT: DAY. CELIA'S APARTMENT. THE LIVING ROOM.

An hour later. celia, dressed in casual clothes, opens the door. izzy is standing in the doorway, holding a plastic bag in his left hand.

IZZY
(Hesitates) Celia?

He studies her face. A brief moment of confusion—as if he recognizes her from somewhere.

CELIA
It is you. I recognize you from your picture. (izzy steps into the apartment and she shuts the door) After I hung up, I thought someone might be playing a trick on me.

IZZY
No tricks. Just one question. Do you know a man named Stanley Mar?

CELIA
(Puzzled) Stanley Mar?

IZZY
M-A-R.

CELIA
I don't think so.

IZZY
Thirty-five, forty. Looks like a businessman, maybe a law­yer. Wears nice suits. Shops for his ties at Barney's.

Little by little izzy is backing celia into the apartment. He is so upset, consumed by his need to understand, that he scarcely takes any notice of her.She, on the other hand, is becoming a little frightened.



CELIA
(Backing away from him) I don't know. Maybe. I had a drink with someone named Stanley about a year ago. He never told me his last name.

IZZY
(Very agitated) Maybe? What's this maybe. (Takes the napkin with her address and phone number on it out of his pocket and thrusts it at her) What's this? What the fuck is this?

CELIA
(Studies the napkin) This isn't my handwriting. (Looks at izzy) How did you get this?

IZZY
He had it on him. And you're going to stand there and tell me you saw him only once?

CELIA
If it's the same Stanley we're talking about—yes. I work in a res­taurant. I served him dinner one night, and he asked me out. I found him boring. All he talked about was money.

IZZY
(Holding up the plastic bag. Adamant; nearly hitting her in the face with it) And what about this? I suppose you don't know anything about this, either.

CELIA
(Backing away; peeved; slowly gaining the upper hand) I don't know what you're talking about. (Beat) Look, I really like your music, and I'm sorry about what happened to you, but you're acting like a crazy man. If you don't calm down, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

IZZY
(Reaches into the bag, pulls out the black box, and holds it up) You don't understand.

He puts the box on the coffee-table, lifts the top off the box and takes out the stone. He shows it to her, holding it between two fingers.

CELIA
(Unimpressed, puzzled) What is it?

IZZY
You tell me.

CELIA
(Laughs) Me?

IZZY
Mar was carrying two things with him. The napkin with your num­ber on it—and this.

izzy hands the stone to celia. She examines it.

CELIA
It doesn't look like anything. It's just. . . shit... a little piece of shit. (She hands it back to him)



IZZY
I know. That's what it looks like, doesn't it? (Beat) Close the blinds.

CELIA
(Thrown) What?

IZZY
We have to make it dark in here. (Puts the stone down on the coffee table, walks to a window, and pulls down the shade) The darker the better.

CELIA
I don't like it when people order me around.

IZZY
(Walks to another window; pulls down another shade) Just humor me. I'm not going to hurt you. (Pulling down another shade) You don't mean anything to me—

CELIA
(More and more peeved) That's pretty obvious, isn't it?

IZZY
—I just have to show you this.

CELIA
(Firm) Five minutes. And then I want you out of here. Got it? I have better things to do than play games with you.

IZZY
(Ignoring her; pulling down the last shade) Okay. Now turn out the light.

celia walks over to the light switch by the door. She flicks the switch, and the overhead light goes off. Obscurity.

IZZY
Now watch.

A few beats. Nothing happens.

CELIA
(Cynical) I'm watching.

IZZY
(Impatient) Just wait. Give it a little time.

Close-up of the stone on the coffee table, barely visible in the darkness. Little by little, it begins to glow, to become smooth, to emit the same blue light it did in izzy's apartment.

A close-up of CELIA´s face, bathed in the blue light. She is astonished, filled with wonder.




CELIA
Oh my God.

IZZY
You see?

CELIA
(Awed) It's beautiful. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

IZZY
And Mar never said anything to you about it?

CELIA
(Transfixed by the light; not wanting to be interrupted) Sshh!

celia begins walking toward the coffee table, approaching the stone, which is now hovering a few inches above the surface. The nearer she gets, the more intense and radiant the light becomes.

IZZY
(Alarmed) What are you doing?

CELIA
(Standing near the stone; studying it; amazed) Be quiet.

IZZY
Don't touch it!

CELIA
Why not?

IZZY
Because . . . because we don't know what it is.

CELIA
Don't be silly. Of course I'm going to touch it. (Beat) How could I not touch it?

She sits down on the sofa next to the coffee table, leans forward, and cups the glowing stone in her two hands. For a moment or two, she just sits there, absorbing the feel of it. Then, very slowly, she begins to smile. The stone seems to have produced some unexpected, happy effect. Another mo­ment goes by, and she begins to laugh—softly, as if to herself, as if some daunting inner puzzle had suddenly been clarified. It is a laugh of knowl­edge, of understanding.

IZZY
What does it feel like?

CELIA
(Not wanting to interrupt the experience—yet playful, teasing) I'm not going to tell you. (Beat, concentrating on the feel of the stone) I don't share secrets with cowards.



IZZY
(A little defensive) I'm just not stupid, that's all.

CELIA
(Looking up at him. Her face full of life, joy) Oh, come on. Don't be afraid. It's the best thing. It really is. It's like nothing else.

She starts laughing again, swept away by the power of what is happening to her.

Reluctantly, izzy walks over to the sofa and sits down beside her. He looks at celia suspiciously. After a moment, she reaches out with the stone, her arm fully extended. izzy finally opens his hand, and she places the stone carefully in his palm. IZZY sits back and holds the stone in both hands. After a moment, he laughs nervously, surprised by what he is feeling.

CELIA
(Studying him carefully) It's amazing, isn't it?

IZZY
(Sinking more deeply into the feeling) Jesus. . . (After a moment, hands the stone back to her. A long silence. Studies her intently) You feel more alive, don't you?

CELIA
Yes. (Beat. Thoughtful. Looking straight ahead) More . . .connected.

IZZY
Connected to what?

CELIA
I don't know. (Beat. Thinks. Still looking ahead) To myself. To the table. To the floor. To the air in the room. To everything that's not me. (Another beat) To you.

Several more beats. She hands the stone back to izzy. He holds it for a while before speaking. celia watches him.

IZZY
(Looking ahead) When I woke up this morning, I didn't know who you were. The way I'm feeling now, I think I could spend the rest of my life with you. I think I'd be willing to die for you.

CELIA
(Crowing upset) Don't. . .

IZZY
I'm sorry. I´m just telling you the tuth. (Hands her the stone. Another beat)

CELIA
Do you know what it means to die for someone? (Long beat. Almost to herself) It's not fair.





IZZY
Why not?

CELIA
Turn on the light. Please turn on the light.

A moment passes. izzy gets up, walks to the nearest light switch, and turns it on. The room returns to normal. The blue stone returns to its original state. As izzy walks around the room, opening the curtains and blinds, celia puts the stone back in the box. izzy watches carefully.

IZZY
I think I should go now.

CELIA
I'm sorry.

IZZY
I'll come back tomorrow.

CELIA
Yes. Come back tomorrow.

He looks at her tenderly. She gives him a weak, confused smile. Hands him the box. He puts it in his pocket, touches her face with his hand. She kisses her hand gently.

Then he turns, walks to the door, and leaves the apartment. She continues to sit on the sofa. Watches the door close.

She leans back her head, arching her neck over the top of the sofa, puts her hands over her eyes.   When she removes her hands, we see that she is blinking back tears. Close shot.

She stands up, fighting against her feelings, struggling not to break down. She begins tidying the living room—opening the curtains more, adjusting the blinds.

Suddenly, without coming to any apparent decision, she rushes across the room, opens the door, and leaves the apartment.