Script_PickmansModel.html
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H.P. LOVECRAFT'S PICKMAN'S MODEL

BY
Rick Tillman


(c)2003 Dark Whisper Films


     FADE IN:



     TITLE SEQUENCE:



     1   INT. PICKMAN'S CELLAR – DUSK/NIGHT       	              1

     The DOOR of the CELLAR opens, as PICKMAN gestures to the
     BEAUTIFUL GIRL to enter and stand over by the WELL.

                         PICKMAN
               Well, here we are...I know it's a
               bit damp...but I do all my best
               work down here.  Stand over there
               by the well, my dear...the light's
               far better...
                   (a beat)
               Now if you'll kindly disrobe...



     [  ROLL TITLES  ]



     2   INT. PICKMAN'S CELLAR – DUSK/NIGHT      		          2

     PICKMAN begins to sketch the BEAUTIFUL GIRL, now standing
     over by the WELL, as she begins to disrobe.  As she bends
     over to lay some of the removed clothing on the nearby DESK,
     we catch a glimpse of the CREATURE coming up out of the well
     behind her.

                         BEAUTIFUL GIRL
               I'll just put my things
               here...Now...all you want me to do
               is just stand here?  And you'll
               paint me...in your picture?  That's
               it?



     [  ROLL TITLES  ]



     3	  INT. PICKMAN'S CELLAR – DUSK/NIGHT			              3

     PICKMAN sets down his CHARCOAL and reaches for a CAMERA that
     is lying about.

                         PICKMAN
               Yes, that's all...I simply must
               have a live model...It's the only
               way to truly capture the moment...

                         BEAUTIFUL GIRL
               What's that camera for?

     The BEAUTIFUL GIRL screams as she is attacked from behind by
     the CREATURE, and is drug down into the WELL.  After a
     moment, the terrified GIRL briefly reappears and grips the
     lip of the WELL, whispers for help, and is then suddenly
     pulled back in, as her screams slowly die away as she is drug
     deeper into the tunnels.

                         BEAUTIFUL GIRL
               Help...me...



     [  ROLL TITLES  ]



     4	  EXT. THURBER'S HOUSE (STAIRS/WALKWAY) – DUSK            4

     FADE IN TO MED SHOT of STAIRS leading away from the STREET. 
     One MAN is starting up the stairs, while the second MAN calls
     out to the first as he exits a cab.

                         ELLIOT
               Thurber...this was your idea...you
               pay for it!

                         THURBER
               Oh, yes, yes...I'm sorry...

     THURBER searches for, and finds some MONEY, and hands the
     money to ELLIOT.

                         THURBER
               Hand this to the driver, will you?

     ELLIOT hands the money off-screen to the driver of the CAB.

                         ELLIOT (O.S.)
               Here you are...keep the change!

     We hear a CAR DOOR CLOSE, and then the CAB SPEED AWAY. 
     ELLIOT starts up the stairs behind THURBER.

                         THURBER
               And you needn't think I'm crazy,
               Elliot...Plenty of others have
               odder phobias than I.  Why don't
               you laugh at Oliver's grandfather?
               He won't even set foot in a
               motorcar.

     MED-LONG SHOT of the outside of THURBER'S HOUSE.  Two MEN are
     walking along a WALKWAY towards the FRONT DOOR of a humble,
     but obviously well maintained home.

                         THURBER
               If I don't like that damned subway,
               it's my own business...and besides,
               we got here more quickly by taxi,
               anyhow...

                         ELLIOT
                   (laughingly)
               Oh, I don't think you're crazy,
               Thurber...You just seem more
               nervous to me than you did the last
               time I saw you...that's all...



     5A	EXT. THURBER'S HOUSE (DOORSTEP) – DUSK                5A

     THURBER fumbles with the lock, finally opens the DOOR, and
     steps inside.

                         THURBER
               I know I'm more nervous...But you
               needn't hold a clinic over it. 
               There's plenty of reason...God
               knows, I'm lucky to be sane at all.



     5B	INT. THURBER'S HOUSE (ENTRY HALL) – DUSK/NIGHT        5B

     The men enter through the FRONT DOOR into the ENTRY HALL. 
     ELLIOT closes the door behind him as THURBER removes his HAT
     and COAT and hangs them on the COAT RACK.  He then gestures
     to ELLIOT for his HAT and COAT, who removes his garments and
     hands them to THURBER, who in turn hangs them on the COAT
     RACK next to his own.

                         ELLIOT
               I don't mean to badger...I was just
               curious as to what happened between
               you and Pickman.  Nothing more...

                         THURBER
               Well, if you must hear it, I don't
               know why you shouldn't. 
               Maybe you ought to, anyhow...After
               all, you did keep writing me like a
               grieved parent when you heard I cut
               the Art Club...and when I started
               to keep away from Pickman.  Now
               that he's disappeared, well I would
               imagine...

                         ELLIOT
                   (interrupting)
               What?  He's disappeared?  Well,
               tell me what happened!

                         THURBER
               I don't know what's become of
               Pickman...And I'd rather not guess,
               for that matter.



     6	  INT. THURBER'S HOUSE (IN THE STUDY) – DUSK/NIGHT        6

     THURBER and ELLIOT enter the STUDY.  ELLIOT sits down in an
     EASY CHAIR, seated near a TABLE.  THURBER walks toward the
     FIREPLACE, and nervously adjusts the CLOCK located on the
     mantle.

                         THURBER
               God knows where that man's
               gone...if he even was a man...
               Let the police find him...

                         ELLIOT
               The police have gotten involved?

                         THURBER
               Yes...they're looking into
               it...though I doubt they're up to
               it...they probably don't even know
               about his North End place...

                         ELLIOT
               You mean he had another studio?  I
               thought he only worked out of his
               grandfather's place...
                   (trailing off in thought)
               And up in the North End, you
               say...I'd love to see it...can you
               take me there?

                         THURBER
               No...no, I couldn't go back
               there...

     [  QUICK COLOUR FLASHBACK  ]

                         THURBER
               I'm not even sure that I could find
               it again...not that I'd ever
               try...let alone at night...

                         ELLIOT
               Well, why not?  And why did he
               choose to work there, of all
               places?  I would have thought he
               could afford better...

     THURBER sits down in the CHAIR next to ELLIOT, and continues:

                         THURBER
               Oh, I'm afraid I know why he
               maintained it up there...I'm coming
               to that.  And I think you'll
               understand before I'm through why I
               don't tell the police...They'd ask
               me to take them back there as
               well...and I just couldn't...there
               was something there,
               Elliot...something...
                   (a beat)
               But here, here...where are my
               manners?  Let's have a drink before
               we get any deeper.

     THURBER walks into the DINING ROOM and picks up a TRAY with a
     BOTTLE OF BRANDY, a BOTTLE OF WHISKEY, and some GLASSES on
     it.

                         ELLIOT
               But, what happened, Thurber?  Tell
               me...does it have something to do
               with why you dropped Pickman?  Or
               why he's disappeared?

     THURBER walks back toward ELLIOT with the TRAY, sits down,
     and pours ELLIOT and himself a drink.

                         THURBER
               Now I would think you'd know I
               wouldn't drop Pickman for just any
               reason...like fussy old Dr. Reid or
               Minot or Rosworth did...morbid art
               doesn't shock me, and when a man
               has the genius Pickman had...well,
               I would think it an honour to know
               him...no matter what direction his
               work takes.

     THURBER picks up the BOTTLE, un-caps it, and pours himself
     and ELLIOT a drink.

                         THURBER
               This city's never seen a greater
               painter than Richard Pickman.  I
               said that from the start, and I say
               it still...Ever since I saw that
               first piece he unveiled at the
               Club...you know, you've seen it...

                         ELLIOT
               Oh, you mean that horrid 'Ghoul
               Feeding'?

                         THURBER
               Yes!  Exactly!  Remember?...that's
               when Minot dropped him.  He never
               could stomach anything that even
               hinted at the strange or the
               bizarre...

                         ELLIOT
               That's true...he did!



     7   INT. THE ART CLUB (GALLERY) – NIGHT                            7

     BEGIN FLASHBACK:

     Numerous ART CLUB MEMBERS and others mill about the Club,
     looking at the various paintings about the room.  A PIANIST
     is playing at one end of the room.  A small crowd gathers
     around PICKMAN, as he prepares to unveil his first piece at
     the Club.

                         PICKMAN
               Ah, ladies and gentlemen....gather
               'round, gather 'round...
               please...this way...Thank you all
               for coming.  Feast your eyes on...

     PICKMAN pulls back the covering from his painting, revealing
     GHOUL FEEDING  to a horrified audience.  Most gasp in shock
     and turn away, disgustedly.  One woman faints.

                         PICKMAN
               ...'Ghoul Feeding' !

     PICKMAN smirks at the reaction his PAINTING has caused.  It's
     as if he's pleasantly surprised.  MINOT approaches and begins
     to rant and gesture towards Ghoul Feeding.

                         MINOT
               That's preposterous!  Why, it's
               utterly revolting!  Is this how you
               choose to make use of your talents?

                         PICKMAN
               Why, Minot...you look as if you've
               seen a ghost.  Or perhaps you've
               seen my friend here lurking about
               somewhere, hmm?  It's merely a
               simple object lesson...nothing
               more.

                         MINOT
               Object lesson?  Where on earth
               would you find something like that! 
               Rest assured, you won't receive any
               more support or monies from me if
               you continue on this absurd path
               you've chosen.

                         PICKMAN
               Very well...I've never needed the
               likes of you to tell me what art
               ought to be!

     END FLASHBACK:



     8	  INT. THURBER'S HOUSE (IN THE STUDY) – DUSK/NIGHT	       8

     THURBER pauses, lost in thought, and then continues.

                         THURBER
               I'll tell you one thing,
               though...it takes a profound
               insight into Nature to turn out
               stuff like Pickman's.  Any magazine
               cover hack can splash paint around
               on a canvas and call it a
               nightmare...but only a great
               painter can make such a thing
               really scare or ring true.  I don't
               have to tell you why a Lovecraft
               brings out a shiver, while a cheap
               imitation merely a laugh...There's
               something those fellows catch...
               Something...beyond life...and
               they're able to make us glimpse it
               too...if only for a second.  And
               Pickman...he had it as well. 
               He had it as no man ever had it
               before...or I hope to Heaven ever
               will again.

     [  QUICK COLOUR FLASHBACK  ]

                         THURBER
               You know, in ordinary art, there's
               all the difference in the world
               between the vital, breathing things
               drawn from Nature or models...and
               that artificial tripe that
               commercial small fry reel off in a
               bare studio...Well, I should say
               that real artists have the vision
               to actually...create their
               models...they summon up what
               amounts to actual scenes from that
               spectral world they live in.  But
               how anyone could see what Pickman
               saw...

     [  QUICK COLOUR FLASHBACK  ]

                         THURBER
               God, to see what that man saw!

     [  QUICK COLOUR FLASHBACK  ]

                         THURBER
               Remember how Pickman's forte was
               faces.  I don't believe anybody
               since Goya could put so much sheer
               hell into a set of features...And
               before Goya you'd have to go back
               to those mediaeval chaps who did
               the gargoyles of Notre Dame!
                   (a beat)
               Why, I remember you asking Pickman
               yourself once, wherever in thunder
               he got such ghastly ideas and
               visions...

                         ELLIOT
               Yes, yes...that's true, I did...

                         THURBER
               And wasn't that a nasty laugh he
               gave you in return?

                         ELLIOT
               Oh, how could I forget that!  Why
               Reid nearly jumped out of his skin!



     9   INT. THE ART CLUB (GALLERY) – NIGHT                            9

     BEGIN FLASHBACK:

     ELLIOT, ROSWORTH, THURBER, and DR. REID are standing in front
     of GHOUL FEEDING, discussing it with PICKMAN.  The other Art
     Club members that were hanging about have seemed to move on
     to other exhibits.

                         ELLIOT
               Remarkable...it's so lifelike!  How
               did you ever dream up something
               like that?

     PICKMAN bursts into a sinister laugh, as ROSWORTH backs up
     nervously.

                         PICKMAN
               Oh...it's just something I cooked
               up, Elliot...Why, you don't think I
               creep about graveyards and the like
               looking for willing subjects, now
               do you?

     PICKMAN glances to the side of the room and notices a
     BEAUTIFUL GIRL who seems somewhat drawn to the artist that
     has caused such a stir at the Club.

                         PICKMAN
               Now, if you gentlemen will excuse
               me for a moment...I do have
               something I must attend to...

                         THURBER
               Why, certainly.  We'll be right
               here...

     PICKMAN nods a quick good-bye and walks off toward the
     BEAUTIFUL GIRL, leaving the others to continue on with their
     discussion.

                         DR. REID
               I tell you, there's something odd
               about that fellow...As you know,
               I've been studying comparative
               pathology of late...and I'm quite
               certain...that man is changing! 
               Surely, you can all see that...

                         ELLIOT
               Well, he does look a bit under the
               weather...but who could blame him? 
               After all, this is his first
               showing here at the Club...

     ROSWORTH interjects as he gestures toward Ghoul Feeding,
     shaking his head in disgust...

                         ROSWORTH
               And the last if I have anything to
               say about it.  I don't dislike the
               man, but he's really not 'Club'
               material, if this is any indication
               of what he's about...

                         DR. REID
               I swear, Pickman repels me more and
               more every day...I tell you the
               fellow's features are slowly...
               developing...in a way that just
               doesn't seem right...in a way
               that's not quite...well, not
               quite...human...Pickman's abnormal
               and eccentric to the very last
               degree!  Why just look at his
               diet...or those blasted gloves he
               always wears...

                         ELLIOT
               My God, Reid...I think you've let
               your imagination get the better of
               you...it's just a painting...

     END FLASHBACK:



     10	INT. THURBER'S HOUSE (IN THE STUDY) – DUSK/NIGHT      10

     THURBER, sparked by ELLIOT's story, continues with his tale.

                         THURBER
               Yes...Reid!  Why, barely a month
               had passed before Reid dropped
               him...always going on about
               Pickman's gloves...you
               remember...he always wore
               them...and God knows, now I'm
               afraid I know why...

     [  QUICK COLOUR FLASHBACK  ]

                         ELLIOT
               Really?  You do?

                         THURBER
               But keep in mind...I didn't drop
               Pickman for anything like that.

                         ELLIOT
               No?

                         THURBER
               No, on the contrary...my admiration
               for the man continued to
               grow...'Ghoul Feeding' was a
               tremendous achievement...regardless
               of what those simpletons at the
               Club think...You know, they never
               showed it again after that...or
               anything else of Pickman's for that
               matter...
                   (a beat)
               The Museum of Fine Arts wouldn't
               even accept that damned thing as a
               gift...it's no wonder that nobody
               would buy it...Pickman had to
               finally keep it at his house...God
               knows what's become of his work
               now...I imagine his father back in
               Salem has them...You do know
               Pickman has old Salem roots, don't
               you?

                         ELLIOT
               Why, no...I had no idea...

                         THURBER
               Yes, he did...he even had an
               ancestor hanged as a witch by
               Cotton Mather himself!  I can only
               imagine what runs in that family...



     11	INT. PICKMAN' HOUSE – DUSK/NIGHT		                11

     BEGIN FLASHBACK:

     THURBER knocks on the FRONT DOOR.  PICKMAN answers the DOOR
     and greets THURBER.  He invites him in and then closes the
     door.  THURBER removes his HAT and COAT, and hangs them on a
     nearby COATRACK.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               You see, I found myself in the
               habit of calling on Pickman quite
               often...I had begun taking notes
               for a monograph on so-called 'weird
               art', and I found Pickman
               indispensable when it came time to
               develop it...

                         PICKMAN
               Thurber...so good to see you...Come
               in, please come in...

     PICKMAN and THURBER walk by the FIREPLACE and enter PICKMAN'S
     STUDY.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               After all, it was his work which
               put the idea in my head in the
               first place...and anyhow, I found
               him a gold mine of data and
               suggestions...

     PICKMAN offers THURBER a GLASS OF WINE, which he gladly
     accepts.  PICKMAN then pours one for himself and comments on
     a nearby AFRICAN STATUE and MASK.

                         PICKMAN
               Thurber, may I offer you a drink?

                         THURBER
               Why, yes...thank you!

                         PICKMAN
               Ah, here's an interesting
               piece....a Ghanaian forest
               witch...it's their interpretation
               of Nyarlathotep, the
               Messenger...you see...the fellow's
               feet are all turned around
               backward...so he can't be tracked
               or found...though I often wonder
               whether he knows if he's coming or
               going...

                         PICKMAN
               And this...this is their 'Queen of
               the Underworld'.  She devours men's
               souls...her familiar feeds them to
               her...through her pineal gland, of
               course...

     PICKMAN shows various PAINTINGS to THURBER that are displayed
     about the room.  They are all of dark and/or gothic
     masterpieces, among them, SIDNEY SIME, VIRGIL FINLAY,
     FRANSISCO DE GOYA, FUSELI, and GUSTAVE DORE.  PICKMAN is
     pointing out this and that to THURBER, as they discuss the
     pieces.  PICKMAN is clearly taking the role of the expert,
     while THURBER his avid study.  We can not always hear what
     they are saying.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               He had examples of all the gothic
               masters... Dorι...Sime...Finlay...
               Fuseli...Goya...His mastery and 
               understanding of the subject were
               unparalleled...

     PICKMAN and THURBER come to rest in front of one of Pickman's
     ORIGINALS, THE OUTSIDER .

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               Of course he also had numerous
               examples of his own brand of
               horror...and I tell you, some of
               them would have surely curdled the
               blood of those fools at the club...

                         PICKMAN
               And here we have a favorite of
               mine...I call it 'The Outsider.'

     PICKMAN gestures back toward the FIREPLACE, and the PAINTING
     above it.

                         PICKMAN
               And of course you remember 'Ghoul
               Feeding.'

                         THURBER
               Oh, yes...who could forget that...

                         PICKMAN
               Yes...quite the show-stopper, hmm?

     PICKMAN and THURBER drift back toward the PAINTINGS and
     BOOKSHELF.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               Before long I was nearly a
               fanatic...I would listen for
               hours...like an avid schoolboy...to
               all his art theories and
               philosophic speculations...I swear,
               some were wild enough to qualify
               him for the Danvers asylum, to be
               sure...

     PICKMAN picks up and thumbs through his family's copy of the
     NECRONOMICON for a particular passage, and reads aloud to
     THURBER.

                         PICKMAN
               Thurber...I'd like to read you
               something.  I think you'll find
               it...interesting...
                   (a beat)
               It's from a very old book that has
               been in my family for years...A
               kind of heirloom, so to speak...
                   (a beat)
               Let me see...ah, yes...here it is!

                         PICKMAN
               "Nor is it to be thought that man
               is either the oldest or the last of
               earth's masters...or that the
               common bulk of life and substance
               walks alone...The Old Ones
               were...the Old Ones are...and the
               Old Ones shall be...past...
               present...future...all can be found
               in Them.  Not in the spaces we
               know...but rather, between
               them...They walk serene and
               primal...undimensioned...and to
               us...obscured...They walk unseen
               and foul in lonely places...where
               the Words have been spoken...and
               where the Rites have howled through
               at their Seasons.  The wind gibbers
               with Their voices...the earth
               mutters with Their consciousness. 
               Man rules now where They ruled
               once; They shall soon rule where
               man rules now...They wait patient
               and potent...for here shall They
               reign again..."

     PICKMAN replaces the NECRONOMICON on the shelf and continues
     his story, as he and THURBER walk back towards the FIREPLACE.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               Well...my hero-worship, coupled
               with the fact that nearly everyone
               was commencing to have less and
               less to do with him...led Pickman
               to become more...confidential with
               me...

                         PICKMAN
               You know...there are things that
               won't do for Newbury Street...
               things that are out of place
               here...things that can't even be
               conceived here...As an artist, it's
               my business to catch the overtones
               of the soul...and you won't find
               those in any of these artificial
               streets...the new Market doesn't
               mean this city has history...it
               isn't anything yet...It's had no
               time to pick up memories or attract
               local spirits...if there are any
               ghosts here, they're far too
               tame...I want human ghosts...ghosts
               of beings highly organized enough
               to have looked on hell...And known
               the meaning of what they saw...

     PICKMAN gages THURBER's reaction, hesitates for a moment, and
     finally continues:

                         PICKMAN
               Now, if you're fairly close
               mouthed...and none too squeamish...
               I just might show you something
               rather...unusual...something a
               bit...stronger than anything I have
               here in the house.

                         THURBER
               What do you mean?

     THURBER stares intently at PICKMAN, hanging on his every
     word.

                         PICKMAN
               Well, what if I told you...that
               I've got another studio...one a bit
               off the beaten path.  A place where
               I can catch the night-spirit of the
               antique...and paint things that I
               couldn't even dream of here...
                   (a beat)
               It's a place that not three living
               men besides myself have even
               seen...it isn't very far from the
               subway as distance goes...but it's
               centuries away as the soul
               goes...The shack's almost tumbling
               down so that nobody else would live
               there...and I'd hate to tell you
               how little I pay for it.  The
               windows are boarded up, but I like
               it all the same...I don't need
               daylight for what I do.  I  like to
               paint in the cellar...where the
               inspiration is thickest...I even
               took the place under a false
               name...just to keep
               things...private.
                   (a beat)
               Naturally, I'd expect you not to
               share this with those old maids at
               the club...especially Reid and his
               witless cronies...whispering as if
               I'm some sort of monster...some
               unfortunate example of reverse
               evolution...
                   (a beat)
               Now, if you're game, Thurber...I'll
               take you there...I think you'd
               enjoy my new...'studies'...As I've
               said, I've really been able to let
               myself 'go' a bit there...
               Shall we ?

     END FLASHBACK:



     12	INT. THURBER'S HOUSE (IN THE STUDY) – NIGHT	        12

     THURBER continues his story as ELLIOT listens intently.

                         THURBER
               Well, Elliot, it was all I could do
               to keep myself from dragging
               Pickman to the first vacant cab we
               could find.  He had us change to
               the subway at the South
               Station...and we headed out past
               the old Wharf...We disembarked at
               the end of the line, and struck out
               on foot...I couldn't keep track of
               all the streets...we just kept
               going deeper and deeper into the
               older parts of town...

                         ELLIOT
               Well...go on...

                         THURBER
               We finally stopped in the oldest
               and dirtiest alley I ever saw in my
               life...Pickman unlocked a foul and
               filthy door...and led me inside. 
               God, that I ever set foot in that
               infernal place!



     13	INT.  PICKMAN'S NORTH END PLACE (ROOM #1) – NIGHT   13

     BEGIN FLASHBACK:

     PICKMAN and ELLIOT enter the STUDIO.  PICKMAN  continues his
     story.

                         PICKMAN
               Well, here we are...my home away
               from home...This it the place for
               an artist to live...the North End! 
               If any true artist were sincere...
               he'd put up with the slums for the
               sake of the tradition...God, man! 
               Don't you realize that places like
               that weren't merely made, but
               actually grown?  Generation after
               generation lived and felt and died
               there...in days when people weren't
               afraid to live or feel or die.
                   (a beat)
               I can show you houses that have
               stood two centuries or more...
               houses that have witnessed what
               would make a modern home crumble
               into powder.  What does modern man
               know of life and the forces behind
               it?  They called Salem witchcraft a
               delusion...but I'll wager you my
               ancestors could have told you
               things...
                   (a beat)
               Look here, do you know the whole
               North End once had a set of tunnels
               that kept certain people in touch
               with one another?  All this going
               on, right under everyone's feet. 
               The tunnels went out past the
               graveyard...and even out to the
               sea...why, things went on every day
               that no one knows of...things that
               no one remembers...
                   (a beat)
               Look, Thurber...out of ten
               surviving houses built before 1700,
               I'll wager that in eight I can show
               you something off in the cellar. 
               Hardly a month goes by without
               reading of workmen finding bricked
               up arches or wells leading to
               nowhere...whenever this or that old
               place comes down...
                   (a beat)
               When these places were built,
               things were different...there were
               witches and what they
               summoned...pirates and what they
               brought in from the sea...I tell
               you, people knew how to live and
               how to enlarge the bounds of life
               in the old times!
                   (disgustedly)
               And to think of today in
               contrast...with such pale, pink
               brains that even a club of supposed
               'artists' get the shudders if a
               picture goes beyond the feelings of
               a Beacon Street tea-table!
                   (a beat)
               Yes...I learned long ago that one
               must paint both terror as well as
               beauty from life...if one is to
               truly see life...
                   (a beat)
               The only saving grace of the
               present is that it's too damned
               blind to see the past that clearly. 
               What do modern maps or records or
               guide-books really tell?
                   (a beat)
               I could lead you to dozens of
               alleys that aren't suspected by the
               likes of most.
                   (a beat)
               No, Thurber, these ancient places
               are over-flowing with wonder and
               escapes from the commonplace...and
               yet there's not a living soul to
               understand or profit by them.  Or
               should I say...there wasn't...

     END FLASHBACK :



     14	INT.  THURBER'S HOUSE (IN THE STUDY) – NIGHT	        14

     THURBER takes another drink, and continues his story.

                         THURBER
               Now, Elliot, I'm what the man in
               the street would call fairly 'hard
               boiled'...but I must confess that
               what I saw in that place gave me a
               bad turn.  They were his pictures,
               you know...and Pickman was
               right...he had truly 'let himself
               go.'



     15	INT.  PICKMAN'S NORTH END PLACE  (ROOM #1) – NIGHT    15

     BEGIN FLASHBACK:

     MONTAGE of various shots around Pickman's decrepit, boarded
     up STUDIO.  There are PAINTINGS depicting ghastly ghoul-like
     creatures and colonial-looking victims and settings,
     scattered about the room.  PICKMAN is displaying and pointing
     out this and that to THURBER.  We can not always hear what
     they are saying.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               There's no use in my trying to tell
               you what they were really like...
               the awful, blasphemous horrors that
               they were...the unbelievable
               loathsomeness... the total lack of
               morality...they were glimpses into
               that which remains beyond the power
               of words to classify...
                   (a beat)
               Now, the objects of Pickman's keen
               eye were hardly what you could call
               human...and yet they seemed to
               approach humanity by varying
               degrees...the texture he gave to
               those things...
               Ugh!  I can still see them!
                   (a beat)
               Their occupations were...well, they
               were usually...feeding...though I
               won't say on what.
               The morbidity that he managed to
               infuse into those canvases...why,
               it was like Hell on Earth!
               What damnable expressiveness
               Pickman gave those ungodly faces...
                   (a beat)
               One canvas showed a ring of them
               baying about a condemned witch on
               Gallows Hill...a witch whose dead
               face held a close kinship to their
               own...
                   (a beat)
               And yet another painting seemed
               almost out of place out of
               comparison...

     THURBER picks up GHOUL'S EYE VIEW and comments:

                         THURBER
               Well, this one seems common
               enough...

                         PICKMAN
               Perhaps...of course that all
               depends on one's point of view...

                         THURBER
               Point of view?

                         PICKMAN
               Why certainly...all paintings
               assume the point of view of
               someone...or something...

     END FLASHBACK:



     16	INT.  THURBER'S HOUSE (IN THE STUDY) – NIGHT	        16

     THURBER takes another drink as he continues.

                         THURBER
               Now don't get the idea that it was
               all this hideous business which
               overwhelmed me...I'm not a three
               year-old...it was the faces,
               Elliot...those accursed...faces...
               they leered and reached out of the
               canvas...with the very breath of
               life itself!  By God, man...they
               were alive!  Pickman had awakened
               the very fires of hell in
               pigment...

     THURBER quickly drains his glass again, and reaches out for
     the BOTTLE.  He re-fills his glass and continues:

                         THURBER
               Now, there was this one thing he
               called 'The Lesson'...Heaven pity
               me, that I ever saw it!



     17	INT.  PICKMAN'S NORTH END PLACE (ROOM #1) – NIGHT     17

     BEGIN FLASHBACK:

     MONTAGE of various shots around Pickman's decrepit STUDIO. 
     PICKMAN shows THE LESSON (among others) to THURBER.  We can
     not hear what they are saying.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               Listen...can you fancy a nameless
               dog-like thing in a
               churchyard...teaching a small child
               how to feed like itself?
                   (a beat)
               You know the old myth of
               changelings...where weird creatures
               leave their spawn in the cradles of
               the unsuspecting...in exchange for
               the human babes they steal?   Well,
               Pickman was showing what happens to
               those stolen babes...and of how
               they grow up...
                   (a beat)
               As I came across other examples of
               this theme lying about...I began to
               notice a hideous relationship
               between the human and the...not-so
               human figures.  He was, in his own
               morbid way, establishing a sardonic
               linkage or evolution to the
               things...Why, he was suggesting the
               dog-things were somehow developed
               from mortals!
                   (a beat)
               And no sooner had I wondered what
               fate befell their own spawn...my
               eye caught a picture embodying that
               very thought...and in a spirit of
               supreme irony...Pickman had given
               the features a very perceptible
               resemblance to his own...

     END FLASHBACK:



     18	INT.  THURBER'S HOUSE (IN THE STUDY) – NIGHT	        18

     THURBER continues with his story.

                         THURBER
               Now, I want to assure you,
               Elliot...I'm not one to scream at
               something just because it shows
               departure from the usual...I'm
               decently sophisticated...and you
               saw enough of me in France to know
               I'm not easily knocked out.

                         ELLIOT
               Indeed!  We saw things no man
               should have to see...

                         THURBER
               Well, in spite of all this, it was
               when he led me to another room
               which forced a real scream out of
               me...I had to clutch at the doorway
               to keep from keeling over...now,
               the first studies had shown ghouls
               and witches over-running the world
               of our forefathers...turning it
               into some kind of twisted annex of
               Hell...but these...these brought
               the horror right into our own daily
               life!  My God, how that man could
               paint!



     19	INT.  PICKMAN'S NORTH END PLACE (ROOM #2) – NIGHT     19

     BEGIN FLASHBACK:

     MONTAGE of various shots around ROOM#2 in Pickman's decrepit
     STUDIO.  PICKMAN shows SUBWAY ACCIDENT and OTHER FINISHED
     ORIGINALS to THURBER.  We can not hear what they are saying.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               There was one called 'Subway
               Accident'...in which a flock of the
               vile things were clambering up from
               some unknown catacomb into the
               Boylston Street subway...every face
               seemed to distort with epileptic
               laughter...I almost thought I could
               hear their fiendish echoes...
                   (a beat)
               Another showed a scene in some
               unknown vault... where scores of
               the beasts crowded about one who
               held in its paws an ancient
               book...and was reading its contents
               aloud to the receptive audience...
                   (a beat)
               There were any number of grotesque
               views...with monsters creeping
               about, grinning as they waited for
               their next victim...
                   (a beat)
               But, mind you, it wasn't the
               settings nor the backgrounds that
               rattled me so...the madness and
               monstrosity lay in the figures in
               the foreground!
                   (a beat)
               Now...as I gradually steadied
               myself and readjusted to this
               second room of deviltry...I began
               to analyze some of the points in my
               sickening loathing...
                   (a beat)
               In the first place, they repelled
               because of the utter inhumanity and
               callous crudity they showed in
               Pickman.
                   (a beat)
               Additionally, they terrified
               because of their very greatness! 
               Their art was the art of that
               conceived...When I saw the
               pictures...I actually saw the
               daemons themselves!

     [ PAINTING comes to life ]

     END FLASHBACK:



     20	INT.  THURBER'S HOUSE (IN THE STUDY) – NIGHT          20

     THURBER loosens his tie as ELLIOT finishes his drink.

                         THURBER
               Now, give me a moment, Elliot...

     THURBER drains his GLASS, and reaches out to the now-empty
     BOTTLE#1.  Seeing this, ELLIOT grabs BOTTLE#2 and pours
     THURBER and himself another drink.

                         ELLIOT
               Here...Allow me...

                         THURBER
               God knows I shouldn't go on...but
               you have to know...some one has to
               understand...



     21A	INT.  PICKMAN'S CELLAR – NIGHT         			     21A

     BEGIN FLASHBACK:

     PICKMAN and THURBER descend damp steps into the CELLAR. 
     THURBER looks about as PICKMAN gestures to the WELL at one
     end of the cellar.  We can not always hear what they are
     saying.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               Look...Pickman led me out of the
               studio and down a flight of damp
               stairs into the cellar.   As I
               braced myself for the hellish
               efforts to come, Pickman gestured
               towards a dark corner of the
               room...

                         PICKMAN
                   (pointing to well)
               That...is what I was talking
               about...

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               There was an ancient brick well
               jutting up from the earthen
               floor...an aperture into that
               network of tunnels he hinted at
               earlier.
                   (a beat)
               Dreading the things that well must
               be connected to, I shivered
               slightly...as I noticed a camera
               lying nearby on a table...

     THURBER picks up and examines a CAMERA that is lying about on
     a TABLE.

                         THURBER
               What on earth is this for?

                         PICKMAN
               Ah...I use it for taking pictures
               of background scenes...I paint them
               from the photographs back here, in
               the studio...there's no reason to
               cart the whole outfit about town
               for this or that view...a
               photograph works quite well for
               sustained work...

     Continue with MONTAGE of various shots around Pickman's
     cellar.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               I turned around to see what other
               horrors lay in wait for my eager
               eye...and came upon a treasure
               trove of nightmares...
                   (a beat)
               There was something disturbing
               about the sketches and half
               finished monstrosities that leered
               'round from every side of the
               room...why, they were as ghastly as
               the finished ones upstairs...they
               showed the same painstaking methods
               of the artist.  That man was great! 
               I say that even now...knowing as
               much as I do.
                   (a beat)
               Pickman got none of his power from
               the use of selectiveness...or
               touches of the bizarre...nothing
               was blurred...or distorted...or
               conventionalized...Outlines were
               sharp and lifelike...the details
               painfully defined...And those
               faces!
                   (a beat)
               He didn't tempt us with the stuff
               of dreams...only the cold
               reflections of some stable...
               mechanistic...and well...
               established...horror-world which he
               saw...fully...and unfalteringly...
                   (a beat)
               God knows where that world could
               can have been... or where he ever
               glimpsed those blasphemous shapes
               that crawled through it...whatever
               the source...one thing was plain.
               Pickman was...in every sense...in
               every conception and execution...a
               thorough...painstaking...and
               almost...scientific...realist!

     PICKMAN uncovers a large canvas in the middle of the room —
     PICKMAN'S MODEL.  THURBER recoils in horror.  We can not
     always hear what they are saying.

                         PICKMAN
               Thurber...I'd like to show you my
               latest work-in-progress...

                         THURBER
               Good God!  Merciful Creator...

                         PICKMAN
               Oh, thank you...I'll take that as a
               complement...

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               Elliot...I don't know how much was
               real and how much was feverish
               fancy! It doesn't seem right that
               the earth could hold a dream like
               that!  It was a colossal and
               nameless blasphemy...and those
               black, souless eyes seemed to burn
               a hole right through me...
                   (a beat)
               But damn it all!  It wasn't even
               those hellish eyes that made it
               such a fountainhead of panic...It
               was the technique, Elliot! That
               accursed, unnatural technique! As I
               am a living being, I have never
               seen the actual breath of life so
               fused into a canvas...
                   (a beat)
               I knew that only a suspension of
               Nature's laws could ever let a man
               paint a thing like that without a
               model...

     THURBER spots a PHOTOGRAPH pinned to the edge of the canvas. 
     He reaches out to look at it.  We can not hear what he is
     saying.

                         THURBER (V.O.)
               Now, tacked to a vacant part of the
               canvas was a photo... I reached out
               to it when...

     PICKMAN violently grabs THURBER and pleads with him to be
     quiet.

                         PICKMAN
               Shhh...

                         THURBER
               Pickman...

                         PICKMAN
               Quiet, damn you!  Don't make a
               sound...sometimes rats come up
               through these old wells...they're
               attracted to certain sounds...

     PICKMAN and THURBER stare intently at the WELL.  After a
     moment, they hear a scraping sound as the COVER moves
     slightly, and then stops.  PICKMAN shoves THURBER out the
     door of the cellar and quickly locks it.

                         PICKMAN
               You need to go...now!  Get out of
               here, damn you!

                         THURBER
               Pickman!  What in God's name...

     He reaches into the DESK, draws the PISTOL he brought back
     from France, and takes aim at the WELL.

                         PICKMAN
               ...while I deal with our uninvited
               guests...



     21B   INT.  OUTSIDE PICKMAN'S CELLAR(STAIRWELL) – NIGHT   21B

     THURBER tries the DOOR, finds it locked, and then pounds on
     the door.  We hear ODD NOISES and the CLATTER OF HOOVES as
     PICKMAN obviously struggles with something.

                         THURBER
               Pickman!  Pickman...open the door!



     22	INT.  PICKMAN'S CELLAR – NIGHT                        22

     PICKMAN continues to aim the PISTOL at the WELL and the
     CREATURE that is slowly climbing out of it.

                         PICKMAN
               Get back in there, damn you!  I'll
               seal that accursed well back up,
               and you'll never get out, I
               promise!

     The CREATURE defiantly approaches PICKMAN, not heeding his
     warning in the slightest.

                         PICKMAN
               You ungrateful wretch!  You had
               her...you can't have him!
                   (a beat)
               Back!   Back!



     23	INT.  OUTSIDE PICKMAN'S CELLAR (STAIRWELL) – NIGHT    23

     THURBER hears GUNSHOTS, freezes for a moment, then pounds
     harder on the door.

                         THURBER
               Pickman!  Good Lord, man!  What on
               earth is going on?  What are you
               shooting at, Pickman?

     THURBER hears evidence of a struggle, then nothing but
     silence from the cellar.  We hear the door unlock, as PICKMAN
     suddenly opens the door, steps out, and closes the door
     behind him.

                         PICKMAN
               Damned rats...the Devil knows what
               they eat, Thurber...those tunnels
               touch graveyard, witch-den and sea
               coast...whatever it is they feed
               on...they must have run short...
               they were devilishly anxious to get
               out....your scream must have
               stirred them up...I find it's best
               to be cautious in these old
               places...

     THURBER stares, flabbergasted by Pickman.  He's quite at a
     loss as to how Pickman seems to be so calm.  It's as if this
     whole affair was merely routine for him.

                         PICKMAN
               Our rodent friends are the one
               drawback of the studio...though I
               sometimes think they might prove an
               asset by way of atmosphere...or
               colour...
                   (a beat)
               Well, let's go back upstairs...then
               we'll get you off on your way...

     END FLASHBACK:



     24	INT.  THURBER'S HOUSE (IN THE STUDY) – NIGHT	        24

     A clearly exhausted THURBER finishes his tale:

                         THURBER
               Well, Elliot, that was the end of
               the nightmare...

     Pickman had promised to show me the place, and Heaven knows
     he'd done it.  He led me out of that tangle of alleys back to
     the subway...he turned off...and bid me farewell.  I never
     saw or spoke to the man again.

                         ELLIOT
               You never saw him again?  You
               dropped him...just like that?  Were
               the paintings really that
               disturbing?

                         THURBER
               No...it wasn't the
               paintings...though I'll swear they
               would have been enough...it was
               something...something I found in my
               coat the next morning...

     [ QUICK COLOUR FLASHBACK]

                         THURBER
               You know the photo from that canvas
               in the cellar?  The photo I thought
               Pickman meant to use as a
               background for his latest work?

                         ELLIOT
               The photo?

                         THURBER
               Well...when Pickman pushed me out
               of the cellar...I was reaching out
               to it...It seems I had mistakenly
               crumpled it into my pocket...I
               didn't even notice it until the
               next morning...

     [ QUICK COLOUR FLASHBACK]

                         THURBER
               Yes, that photograph was the reason
               I dropped Pickman...Richard Upton
               Pickman...the greatest artist I
               have ever known...and the foulest
               being that ever leapt the bounds of
               life into the pits of myth or
               madness!

     THURBER quickly drains his glass and slams it down on the
     table.

                         THURBER
               Elliot!  Old Reid was right! 
               Pickman wasn't strictly human. 
               Either he was born of strange
               shadow...or he'd found some way to
               unlock forbidden gates back into
               that fabulous darkness he loved to
               haunt...either way, well...well
               he's...he's gone now...

     THURBER gets up and quickly exits the room.

                         ELLIOT
               Thurber, where are you saying?
               Where are you going?

     THURBER stands in front of his DESK.  He reaches inside for
     something as he continues with his tale.

                         THURBER
               You know how damned life-like
               Pickman's paintings were...you've
               seen them for yourself!  You know
               how we all wondered where he got
               those faces?  Those damnable,
               awful, faces?

     ELLIOT gets up to addresses THURBER.

                         ELLIOT
               Yes?  Yes?

     THURBER walks toward ELLIOT.  He has a curled-up PHOTOGRAPH
     in his hand.

                         THURBER
               Well, Elliot...it wasn't a
               photograph of any background after
               all...The background of this
               photo...is merely the wall of
               Pickman's cellar...

     THURBER gestures with the PHOTOGRAPH in his hand.

                         THURBER
               This...this is of the model...

     THURBER holds up the tattered, curled PHOTOGRAPH for ELLIOT
     to see.

                         THURBER
               And by God, Elliot...

     ZOOM into PHOTOGRAPH to see detail.

                         THURBER (O.S.)
               It's a photograph  from real life!

     ZOOM closer into PHOTOGRAPH until the photo is full frame. 
     The edges of the PHOTOGRAPH and THURBER'S HAND slowly
     DISSOLVE into the next scene.



     25	INT. PICKMAN'S CELLAR – DUSK/NIGHT         			   25

     The CREATURE is sitting in the cellar in front of the WELL.   
     It is gnawing on a HUMAN HEAD.  It is posed exactly like the
     model in the photograph.  It is frozen, listening for
     something.  The CREATURE suddenly 'comes to life' and
     continues gnawing on its snack.  It pauses again, and sniffs
     the air.  It sniffs again, as it gazes around the cellar. 
     The CREATURE finally fixes its gaze on the camera, drops the
     HEAD, and slowly creeps forward to investigate this juicier
     morsel a bit more thoroughly...

     THE END

     FADE TO BLACK:

     [ ROLL  CREDITS ]
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