THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE  

                                   By

                               David Self

                              Revisions by
                             Michael Tolkin

                           Based on the Novel
                           by Shirley Jackson

     11/10/98
     Initial Shooting Script

     NOTE: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT CONTAINED SCENE NUMBERS.
     THEY HAVE BEEN REMOVED FOR THIS SOFT COPY.

BEGIN MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE.

     At the very edge of hearing, the tone of human VOICES.
     Unintelligible, babbling, eerie.  Then a loud FLAPPING SOUND.
     It shifts from one side of the theater to the other, like
     something moving among the wall hangings.

     As the TITLE appears, the noise mounts, drowning out the
     VOICES, agitated, becoming violent, banging... inhuman.

     FADE IN:

     EXT. HOUSING PROJECT, CHARLESTOWN, MASSACHUSETTS - DAY

     ON a housing project in the industrial outskirts of Boston.
     The BANGING seems to flutter away, leading us along,
     searching... to a tiny balcony, one of dozens, ten stories
     up.  And there, the source of the sound --

     -- A SHEET, snapping in the wind.  The umbrella-like clothes
     line on which it hangs bangs against a dirty glass door as if
     trying to get in.

     THROUGH THE GLASS DOOR a woman paces inside, agitated.  The
     VOICES rise over the banging, becoming intelligible --

     INT. LIVING ROOM, NELL'S APARTMENT - DAY

     -- becoming a fight.  JANE, 30s, dark-haired, furious, wheels
     across a diminutive, neat, but poor living room.

                         JANE
               It'll take a month to probate the will,
               Nell! A month! Even if Mother left you
               something, you won't get it in time to
               pay the rent. So instead of complaining,
               you should be thanking Lou for getting
               you these two weeks to get Mother's
               things packed.

     At first we can't even see who she's yelling at.  At first we
     don't even notice her.  Then we do...

     Holding herself, in a dim corner away from the light, small,
     plain, like a part of the faded room is ELEANOR VANCE, 20's
     -- Nell.  She stares at the door.  The clothes line raps at
     the begrimed glass.

                         JANE (cont'd)
               Nell?

     The wind dies, the banging stops.  Nell seems to hear Jane
     and peers over at her, then across the room to Jane's bored
     husband, LOU.  He's turning a Franklin Mint commemorative
     coin set in his hands, studying it.

                         LOU
               You're still going to have to settle with
               your mother's landlord on the back rent.

     Nell watches Jane's little boy, RICHIE.  Unpacified by the
     cartoons on the TV, he plows a plastic tank across a shelf
     through neat rows of delicate PORCELAIN DOLLS.

                         NELL
               I'm not going to stay. I'll get a job.
               I'll get my own apartment.

     Richie knocks a porcelain DOLL off, and it breaks all over
     the carpet.  His parents don't notice.  But Nell feels it in
     the soul.  Richie stops.  A long beat.  He looks at her,
     insolent, then plows on with his tank.

                         JANE
               Nell. A job? Two months and where is
               this job? You have no degree, you've
               never worked --

     Nell explodes in outraged fury, startling us.

                         NELL
               -- I've never worked? --

                         JANE
               -- You have no experience in the
               world... the regular world. What would
               you put on a resume?
                   (beat, softening)
               Now we all appreciate what you did for
               Mother. Isn't that right, Lou?

                         LOU
               Eleven years. Long time.

                         JANE
               That's why we've been talking. With me
               getting more time in Accessories, and Lou
               at the shop all day, we need somebody to
               take care of Richie, do a little cleaning
               and cooking. And in return you can have
               the extra room.

     She goes to Lou, puts a hand on his shoulder, proud of her
     generosity.  All Nell can do is stare.

     And then:  KNOCK KNOCK.  Like a shot Nell is out of the chair
     and turning for a set of FRENCH DOORS across the room.  It's
     all reflex.  Nell catches herself.

     KNOCK KNOCK.  Richie, lying on the couch like he's sick, raps
     on the wall with a wooden CANE and squeals:

                         RICHIE
               Eleanor, help me! I've got to pee!

     Nell REACTS, but rather than being amused or annoyed, a wave
     of TRAUMA flickers over her face.  The reaction is so strong
     we instantly know something is very wrong.

                         LOU
               Richie, knock it off before I beat the
               crap out of you!

     Nell turns away, sick, breathing hard.

     Jane picks up a JEWELRY BOX from a dresser.

                         JANE
               You're sure this is all of Mother's
               jewelry? The lawyer said to make sure we
               took it to him...
                   (beat)
               He said there might be some antique
               pieces. Have you seen anything? Some of
               it might be valuable.

     Nell knows what is going to happen to that jewelry.  Jane no
     longer can bear the weight of Nell's stare, checks her watch.
     She nods at Lou.  Lou rises, pocketing the coin set.  Richie
     follows him out.

                         JANE (cont'd)
               Think about our offer, Nell. You don't
               know how hard it is out there.

     INT. NELL'S KITCHEN - DAY

     Nell rams through the door into the small kitchen, spotless,
     empty.  And then bursts into tears.  Shaking, she digs in her
     back pocket and pulls out a FINE FILIGREE NECKLACE.  Her
     mother's.  It's from an age gone by.

     Clutching the necklace, she goes back out the door.

     INT. LIVING ROOM, NELL'S APARTMENT - DAY

     Nell crosses the living room straight for the closed French
     doors, the glass obscured by gauze curtains.  She throws them
     open and enters --

     INT. SICK ROOM - DAY (CONTINUOUS)

     -- what once was a dining room.  Transformed into a sick
     room.  Drawn shades.  Dim.  The first traces of dust.

     Nell lingers in the doorway a beat, daunted.

     A perfectly made bed.  The PILLOW, however retains the
     IMPRESSION of a head.  Lodged between the bed and a
     nightstand, a CANE.  On the opposite side of the bed is a
     plastic toilet.  I.V. stand.  Shrouded white shapes.

     On the wall above the bed, a framed needlepoint counsels:  A
     PLACE FOR EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING IN ITS PLACE.  A bit of
     wisdom.  A way to live a life.

     A way Nell has lived for too long.  Seeing it galvanizes her
     into movement.  She goes to an old armoire, a medicine chest,
     opens it, removes a BOTTLE OF TYLENOL WITH CODEINE and
     marches out.

     INT. LIVING ROOM, NELL'S APARTMENT - DAY

     Nell closes the doors on the chamber of horrors, exhales.
     She has been holding her breath.

     INT. NELL'S KITCHEN - DAY

     Nell sits at her tiny kitchen table, water glass and Tylenol
     in front of her.  The necklace dangles from her fingers.  She
     stares, mesmerized by it.  Then she undoes the hasp.  The
     clothes line outside BATTERS louder --

     -- and, defiant, Nell puts the necklace on.  She closes her
     eyes.

     Silence.  The battering has stopped.  A BEAT.  And then the
     PHONE RINGS.  Nell opens her eyes.  The phone RINGS.  Keeps
     ringing.  Nell, feeling the drug, finds her way to the phone
     and picks up.

                         NELL
               Hello? Yes, this is Eleanor. -- Where?
               Yes, it's right here.

     Nell listens for a long moment.  She picks up the
     classifieds, flips through.  And there it is:

                     TROUBLE SLEEPING?

     WANTED - RESEARCH SUBJECTS.  $900.00/.WEEK + RM.&BD.  @
     BEAUTIFUL OLD HOUSE IN BERKSHIRES.  PSYCHOLOGY STUDY.

     END MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE

     INT. PSYCH OBSERVATION LAB - DAY

     The lab feels more like the video center of a security office
     than a psychologist's laboratory.  Two banks of black and
     white monitors give us images of men and women, different
     ages, different races, wired to electrodes.  They are taking
     psychological tests, although we never see the Testers.  The
     subjects are working through variations on object
     manipulation and pattern recognition tests.  There are subtle
     differences between the two banks of monitors.  On the left,
     the subjects are all twitching at exactly the same time, on
     the right, the subjects are also twitching, but in no
     discernible sequence.  The subjects on the left are better
     able to concentrate on their tasks.  The subjects on the right
     keep stopping, and going over what they have done.

     Two men, MALCOLM KEOGH, in his 50's, is a graying professor,
     the head of the department; someone we trust.

     He faces PROFESSOR JAMES MARROW.  He is a man whose confidence
     rests uneasily on his ambition, and in the tension between
     the two is the power that makes him the teacher students
     love.  Right now, though, he is defending himself before a
     Department Review.  This is not a court martial with judges
     behind a desk, it's more free form.

     The men are having a fight, and they are watched by OTHER
     PROFESSORS.

                         MALCOLM
               It's still an electric shock!

                         MARROW
               Come on Malcolm, it's only seven ohms,
               it's nothing, it's like a joy buzzer! And
               it's not about the pain, it's about the
               interference with concentration...

     Malcolm looks at the monitor.  This is Marrow's chance to
     explain it again.

                         MARROW (cont'd)
               Look, look at what it does! The subjects
               on the left, because they anticipate the
               shocks, make the adjustment, and lose
               nothing on their scores. The subjects on
               the right, because the shocks are random,
               can't anticipate, and the distraction
               throws them off.

                         MALCOLM
               Stop defending your science after the
               fact, Jim. The department protocol for
               research is very clear about this, and
               you violated the rules. I know, I know, I
               know that "Fear and Performance" is a big
               sexy idea, but as long as I'm chairman
               here you will need this department's
               endorsement to publish it, and right now
               I can't do that.