Paul Auster: Smoke
22. March 2008 18:56
It all started with a story. The story about the story is no less interesting. In 1990 Paul Auster was asked to contribute a Christmas story to The New York Times. He opened a tin of his beloved Schimmelpennincks – the little cigars he likes to smoke – and started thinking about the man who sells them to him in Brooklyn. It led to some thoughts about the kinds of encounters one has in New York with people one sees every day but doesn’t really know.
Commentary
Itall started with a story. The story about the story is no lessinteresting. In 1990 Paul Auster was asked to contribute a Christmasstory to The New York Times. He opened a tin of his belovedSchimmelpennincks – the little cigars he likes to smoke – andstarted thinking about the man who sells them to him in Brooklyn. Itled to some thoughts about the kinds of encounters one has in NewYork with people one sees every day but doesn’t really know. Thestory began to take shape, literally coming out of the tin of cigars.But before we get to the actual Christmas story that appears at theend of the film twice, first told by Auggie Wren, then in a beautifulblack-and-white montage, accompanied by a bittersweet Tom Waits song,we watch the plot of the film, drifting and swirling in front of oureyes like smoke itself. The life of Auggie Wren (Harvey Keitel), themanager of the Brooklyn Cigar Company store that serves as aneighborhood meeting place, intertwines with the lives of four othercharacters, Paul (William Hurt), a blocked writer; Rashid (HaroldPerrineau Jr.), a troubled youth; Ruby (Stockard Channing), Auggie’sformer lover; and Cyrus (Forest Whitaker), Rashid’s long-lostfather, forming a web of relationships and subplots over a few summerdays. Paul Auster simply lets his characters talk about their livesin a loose, almost improvisational style, making the film anartistic, aesthetic celebration of the little details of life onerarely notices (impersonated in the character of Auggie Wren whotakes a picture of his store every single morning for years at arow), of the little pleasures of life (smoking), of story-telling,chances and mysteries. In that it reflects its own background, itsown genesis. A few weeks after Paul Auster’s story was published inThe New York Times, Wayne Wang expressed his interest to makeit into a movie. A great friendship was struck and, as it happened,Paul Auster got to adapt the story into a screenplay. It was hisdebut as a screenwriter although he had been involved in a filmbefore when Philip Haas filmed his book The Music of Chance,with Paul Auster’s thirty-second cameo appearence, his actingdebut. As if by charm he managed to get an extraordinary cast for thelow-budget film and an equally extraordinary set of collaborators.The film just shines with the friendly, enjoyable atmosphere in whichit was created. To finish, let us quote the author on the catchy,evocative title of the film: „It refers to the cigar store, ofcourse, but also to the way smoke can obscure things and make themillegible. Smoke is something that is never fixed, that is constantlychanging shape. In the same way that the characters in the film keepchanging as their lives intersect. Smoke signals… smoke screens…smoke drifting through the air. In small ways and large ways, eachcharacter is continually changed by the other characters around him.“And on the tone of the film, difficult to define: „I’ve alwaysthought of it as a comedy – but in the classical sense of the term,meaning that all the characters in the story are a little better offat the end than they were in the beginning. Not to get too high-flownabout it, but when you think about the difference betweenShakespeare’s comedies and tragedies, it’s not much in thematerial of the plays as in how the conflicts are resolved. The samekinds of human problems exist in both. With the tragedies, everyonewinds up dead on the stage. With the comedies, everyone is stillstanding and life goes on. That’s how I think of Smoke. Goodthings happen, bad things happen, but life goes on. Therefore, it’sa comedy. Or, if you prefer, a dramatic comedy.“
Script
4. INT: DAY. PAUL'S APARTMENT. A BROWNSTONE BUILDING IN PARK SLOPE (THIRD FLOOR)
Shot of a little brown cigar, burning in an ashtray.
The camera pulls back to reveal paul at his desk. He is writing in longhand, using a pad of yellow legal paper. An old Smith-Corona typewriter is also on the desk, poised for work with a half-written page in the roller. Off in the corner, we see a neglected word processor.
The workroom is a bare and simple place. Desk, chair, and a small wooden bookcase with manuscripts and papers shoved onto its shelves. The window faces a brick wall.
As paul continues to write, the camera travels from the workroom into the larger of the two rooms that make up his apartment.
This larger room is an all-purpose space that includes a sleeping area, a kitchenette in one corner, a dining table, and a large easy chair. Crowded bookshelves occupy one wall from floor to ceiling. The bow windows face front, looking down onto the street. Near the bed, we see a framed photograph of a young woman. (This is Ellen, Paul's dead wife.)
The camera travels back into the workroom. We see paul at work. Fade out.
Fade in. We see paul at his desk, eating a TV dinner while still writing in the pad. After a moment, he inadvertently knocks the food off the desk mild his elbow. He begins to bend over to pick up the food, but as he does so a new idea suddenly occurs to him. Instead of cleaning up the mess, he turns back to his pad and continues writing.
5. EXT: DAY. IN FRONT OF THE BROOKLYN CIGAR CO.
We see paul walking out of the cigar store. jimmy rose is on the corner, observing him throughout the scene. paul takes three or four steps, then realizes he has forgotten something. He goes back into the store. During his brief absence, jimmy remains on the corner, imitating paul's gestures: patting in pockets, looking puzzled, realizing that he has forgotten the cigars he just bought.
paul comes out again a moment later, holding a tin of Schimmelpenninck cigars. He pauses, takes a cigar out of the tin, and lights up. He continues walking, obviously distracted. He stops briefly at a corner, then steps out into the street, paying no attention to the traffic. A speeding tow truck is rushing toward the intersection. At the last second, a black hand reaches out, grabs paul by the arm, and pulls him back to the curb. If not for that timely move, paul would surely have been run down.
We see paul's rescuer: it is rashid cole, a black adolescent of sixteen or seventeen. He is tall and well built for his age. A nylon backpack is slung over his left shoulder.
RASHID
Watch out, man. You'll get yourself killed like that.
PAUL
(Badly shaken, still clinging to rashid's arm) I can't believe I did that. . . Christ, I'm walking around in a fog . . .
RASHID
No harm done. Everything's okay now. (Looks down and notices that he and paul are still gripping each other's arms. Tries to pull away) I've got to be going,
PAUL
(Still rattled. Begins to loosen grip, then grabs hold of rashid's arm again) No. Wait. You can't just walk off. (Pause) You saved my life.
RASHID
(Shrugs) I just happened to be there. The right place at the right time.
PAUL
(Relaxing grip on rashid's arm) I owe you something.
RASHID
It's okay, mister. No big deal.
PAUL
Yes it is. It's a law of the universe. If I let you walk away, the moon will spin out of orbit. . . pestilence will reign over the city for a hundred years.
RASHID
(Mystified, amused. Smiles faintly) Well, if you put it that way . . .
PAUL
You have to let me do something for you to put the scales in balance.
RASHID
(Thinks, shakes his head) That's all right. If I think of something, I'll send my butler over to tell you.
PAUL
Come on. At least let me buy you a cup of coffee.
RASHID
I don't drink coffee. (Smiles) On the other hand, since you insist, if you offered me a cold lemonade, I wouldn´t say no.
PAUL
Good. Lemonade it is. (Pause. Extends right hand) I'm Paul.
RASHID
Rashid. Rashid Cole. (Shakes paul's hand)
48. INT: DAY. PAUL'S APARTMENT
Morning. paul and rashid are sitting at the table, eating breakfast. rashid is wearing a red T-shirt with the word "fire" emblazoned on the back in white letters. We catch them in mid-conversation.
PAUL
It's 1942, right? And he's caught in Leningrad during the siege. I'm talking about one of the worst moments in human history. Five hundred thousand people died in that one place, and there's Bakhtin, holed up in an apartment, expecting to be killed any day. He has plenty of tobacco, but no paper to roll it in. So he takes the pages of a manuscript he's been working on for ten years and tears them up to roll his cigarettes.
RASHID
(Incredulous) His only copy?
PAUL
His only copy. (Pause) I mean, if you think you're going to die, what's more important, a good book or a good smoke? And so he huffed and he puffed, and little by little he smoked his book.
RASHID
(Thinks, then smiles) Nice try. You had me going for a second, but no ... no writer would ever do a thing like that. (Slight pause. Looking at paul) Would he?
PAUL
(Amused) You don't believe me, huh? (Stands up from the table and begins walking to the bookcase) Look. I'll show you. It's all in this book.
paul stands on a chair and reaches for a book on the top shelf. In doing so, he catches sight of the paper bag rashid planted there in Scene 15. He studies it in bewilderment, then picks it up and dangles it in the air as he turns toward rashid.
PAUL (cont'd)
What's this?
RASHID (Squirming with embarrassment) I don't know.
PAUL
Is it yours?
RASHID
Yeah, it might be.
PAUL
(Shrugs, not wanting to make an issue of it) Here, catch.
PAUL tosses the bag in RASHID's direction. The bag breaks open in midair, and a shower of twenty-, fifty-, and hundred-dollar bills rains down from the ceiling. PAUL is stunned; RASHID is watching the world crumble before his eyes.
Fade out.