If you haven't already done so, read
Act One of this
teleplay first.
ACT TWO
FADE IN:
INT. ST. ANSELM MONASTERY CHAPEL. DAY.
The worship space for the monastic community is a spare, elegant chapel, embodying the principle of “
noble simplicity” put forth by the
Second Vatican Council regarding the architecture for a worship space. The seating for the monastic community are the traditional
choir stalls, which are just behind the
altar. In front of the altar, in the
nave of the chapel, are pews.
In a
pew on the right side halfway down the center aisle sits Father GABRIEL More. His arms are folded, and his eyes are shut – his customary prayer posture. His breathing is visibly rhythmic – his shoulders rise and fall in a steady, slow tempo. We see him from the front, and can therefore also see the doors to the chapel in the rear.
After a few moments of watching GABRIEL pray, we see FRANCIS enter quietly in the rear. He hesitates a few moments when he sees GABRIEL, then quietly makes his way down the center aisle. When he is still a couple of pews back down the aisle from GABRIEL, the monk, without opening his eyes or shifting his posture speaks.
GABRIEL
I wondered when you were finally going to get around to coming and seeing me, Francis.
FRANCIS stops midstride startled at the fact that GABRIEL knew that he was there behind him. GABRIEL still does not move or open his eyes.
GABRIEL
Well don’t just stand there like
Wile E. Coyote in
freeze-frame – come sit with me.
FRANCIS shakes his head as though trying to banish a dream then continues down the aisle. He slips into the pew next to GABRIEL. They sit silently together for a few moments, GABRIEL still motionless. Finally GABRIEL speaks.
GABRIEL
Already said hello to God since sitting down, I hope. He knows you’re here, so there’s no point in not voicing a ‘
salve.’
FRANCIS (quietly, almost muttered)
Salve,
Domine.
GABRIEL (same)
Don’t say it like you’ve got a grudge against the Almighty. At least, I
hope you don’t have one, considering what he did through me to get you back here this year.
FRANCIS (normal tone of voice)
Hi God.
A hint of a smile plays at the corners of GABRIEL’s mouth, but he still does not move.
GABRIEL
Now that’s more like it. A bit
Glory and Praise-y, but at least it wasn’t petulant. (beat) I trust you won’t behave like a five-year-old brat this year.
FRANCIS (looking straight ahead)
A five-year-old brat? A bit harsh, wouldn’t you say?
GABRIEL
You wanted everything to be your way and you refused to give the program a chance. Any time someone called you on it – myself, your chaplain, Thomas – you just sulked and said that no one here “really understands me.” The
Holy Spirit tried to shape you and mold you into what you are capable of becoming through many different instruments, all of whom you rejected without giving them a chance. And in the encounters I’ve had with five-year-old brats, that’s pretty much the way they act.
FRANCIS sits silently realizing how much GABRIEL hit it on the head.
FRANCIS (quietly)
It’s good to be back, Father.
GABRIEL (smiling)
It’s good to have you back, Francis. You’ll make a fine priest one day, God, this institution, and your
bishop willing.
Another pause.
FRANCIS (quietly)
You really think so, Father?
GABRIEL
More importantly, do
you think so?
A pause.
FRANCIS
Yeah, I think I do. But sometimes, I’m not so sure.
GABRIEL
Francis, you’ve got what it takes. I’ve seen through your façade, looked into your soul – and what I saw there impresses me and gives me hope for the future of the Church. You’ve such reservoirs of passion and zeal and, yes, goodness, that if you would only take the time to tap into them, the results would be astonishing. Take the lamp out from under the bushel and let it shine so brightly before men that they experience the love of Christ. That love is in you, Francis – cut loose and share it.
A pause.
FRANCIS
So it’s going around campus that you’re the one giving the opening of the year address tonight.
GABRIEL
So I’ve heard. I find it amusing that even something official like my address tonight circulates campus like it’s a rumor. The propensity for turning everything into gossip among the seminarians fascinates me to no end.
FRANCIS
Well, nothing had been posted or announced yet, so we weren’t sure.
GABRIEL
“We” being you and your cronies, Finchworth, Rhodes, and Stepheson, I assume.
FRANCIS
You don’t have to say it like we’re some sort of exclusive club.
GABRIEL (smiling)
You four
are as thick as thieves. (beat) But there’s nothing wrong with that. Just wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you. Worked like a charm.
FRANCIS stands up.
FRANCIS
I need to go finish unpacking now.
GABRIEL
You may need to go, Francis, but it isn’t to finish unpacking. You are already settled in – probably in order to have avoided seeking me out until you absolutely had to. You’re probably in a hurry to go break the news that I confirmed my address to the student body tonight.
A pause, as FRANCIS stands motionless, again surprised by GABRIEL’s uncanny intuition.
GABRIEL
Whatever the reason, our work here is complete. You may go – and
go with God.
FRANCIS (mumbling)
Thanks, Father. I’ll see you around.
He steps out of the pew and starts to head down the aisle. Before he reaches the doors:
GABRIEL
I certainly hope that you do, Francis. After all, I
am your
spiritual director.
FRANCIS just nods, and exits the chapel. Soon, GABRIEL’s breathing is back to its rhythmic rise and fall, as though his conversation with FRANCIS had never taken place.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ST. PETER’S HALL. EARLY EVENING.
St. Peter’s Hall is one of two residence halls on campus. Sitting on one of two park benches that are side-by-side in front of the building are JOEL and ALEX. They are watching the comings and goings of other seminarians. JOEL has a
vodka and tonic in one hand, a cigar in the other, ALEX a
Cuba Libre and cigar. Throughout the conversation, they puff and drink.
JOEL
Nothing quite as refreshing as a good drink and fine cigar after dinner, eh Rhodes?
ALEX
Quite, Finchworth.
JOEL
Hard to believe it’s already our senior year. Where did the time go, old boy?
ALEX
Fascinating question – seems like only yesterday you were transferring into our happy family at semester
sophomore year.
JOEL
And the class was kind enough to welcome me with open arms.
ALEX
How could we not? You were
witty, charming, literate …
JOEL
… handsome …
ALEX absentmindedly nods his agreement.
ALEX
… handsome – (realizing what he has said) Now wait a minute.
JOEL laughs heartily.
JOEL
Admit it – I’m your ideal man.
ALEX
I am a happily celibate
homosexual, thank you very much.
JOEL
Didn’t stop you from having a crush on me though.
ALEX
And just what makes you think I had a crush on you?
JOEL
Please – until I met you, only women stole the kind of glances that you did.
ALEX
I may have been
browsing the menu, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to order.
JOEL leans over and whispers seductively into ALEX’s ear.
JOEL
Admit it, baby, you wanted to get to know me in the
Biblical sense.
ALEX snorts and pushes JOEL away.
ALEX
You
hetero boys are all the same: someone gives you a
lean and hungry look, and that means she – or he – wants in your pants. Arrogance of the
first degree, that’s your
tragic flaw, my friend.
JOEL
A tragic flaw? How
Shakespearean.
ALEX
Actually, how
Aristotelian.
JOEL waves this correction away.
JOEL
Splitting hairs – and don’t even think about throwing
Aquinas back at me on that one. The point is, I’m flattered that you think I have a tragic flaw.
ALEX gives him a dubious sideways glance.
ALEX
You are warped beyond words, Finchworth, if you are flattered when someone points out your tragic flaw.
JOEL
Wouldn’t you be flattered if someone was putting you on par with
Hamlet,
Othello,
Oedipus, et alia?
ALEX
Considering how that bunch wound up, I’d rather remain outside of their company.
JOEL
Considering they are being performed, read about, and discussed centuries after first being put forth on paper, I’d happily join their ranks.
ALEX
I think you need to have a long chat with Dr. Thompson – delusions of grandeur revolving around an obsession with a personal tragic flaw. Definitely sounds like material for the campus
psychologist.
FRANCIS comes strolling up and sits on the other park bench. He pats his stomach and gives a satisfied sigh.
FRANCIS
My digestive system missed the starch-heavy menu around here. Nothing like food that hits bottom and expands.
JOEL
Yeah, but I for one am going to miss Boots’ glorious fried chicken…
ALEX
… and her mashed (real) potatoes …
FRANCIS
… and her pan gravy …
They give a collective sigh of satisfaction. After a brief pause.
ALEX
That could’ve been a scripted
television moment.
FRANCIS
So where’s my scotch-n-stogie?
JOEL
spits and splutters out the mouthful of vodka and tonic he had just started to drink. FRANCIS laughs out loud.
FRANCIS
I was hoping I’d get a reaction like that out of you.
This causes ALEX to laugh as well. JOEL just grins and shakes his head.
JOEL
One of these days, Francis – pow! right in the kisser!
All three are now laughing – good friends back together again.
FRANCIS
So I talked to Gabriel this afternoon.
ALEX
And?
FRANCIS
He knew I was there before he saw me, called me a five-year-old brat (in reference to last year), and told me he think I’ve got what it takes to make a good priest.
ALEX
So the Gabriel Special: touch of the
mysticism, put you in your place, and drove you to do better.
FRANCIS
It’s what he does best.
ALEX
Which is
why he’s the best.
JOEL raises his vodka and tonic.
JOEL
To Father Gabriel More, O-S-B – the most spiritually in-tune man this side of the
Holy Father.
ALEX raises his glass as well.
ALEX
Maybe even more in-tune.
JOEL shoots him a look.
JOEL
Let’s give the old man in a white dress a bit of a break, how bout.
JOEL and ALEX clink glasses together in toast. FRANCIS shrugs, mimes holding a glass, and “clinks” as well. They all down their drinks.
LOUIS walks up.
LOUIS (pouting)
Boy, how does Francis rate getting an imaginary drink and not me?
JOEL
Pour yourself one – this is a
B-Y-O-B affair.
LOUIS
Cheap bastard.
JOEL
Hey, I’m providing the drinks tonight – and they will all be
real drinks, thank you very much.
LOUIS
Fair enough.
LOUIS mimes picking up a bottle, pouring, and drinking. After a “gulp,” he smacks his lips.
LOUIS
Mm-mm-mm – tastes great, less filling!
ALEX
So, Stephenson, what were you able to glean from Anthony today?
LOUIS (assuming a German accent)
Despite our best efforts to the contrary, Brüder Newport was not forthcoming with any information. We will be using more … extreme methods of “persuasion” at tomorrow’s session.
ALEX
So not even a hint?
LOUIS
Not even if the musical would be first semester or the
straight play. (to ALEX) No pun intended.
ALEX rolls his eyes.
ALEX
Please. That’s the oldest gay pun in the book.
FRANCIS gets wide-eyed with apparent shock.
FRANCIS
You mean there’s a book?!?
ALEX shoots him a dirty look, then playfully smacks him upside the head for good measure.
LOUIS (as
Bugs Bunny)
Heh heh heh – what a maroon.
JOEL spots MARCUS,
OUT-OF-SHOT, in the distance.
JOEL
Something wicked this way comes…
FRANCIS
Now, be nice, little boy.
JOEL
After the attitude he copped this afternoon, all niceties are off.
ALEX
I seem to recall something about forgiving
seventy times seven, turn the other cheek, that sort of thing.
JOEL
Oh, that nonsense just applies to
Catholics and
Protestants. We’re seminarians.
FRANCIS
Seminarians? I
knew there was something odd about a college whose students were all male and all celibate.
LOUIS (raised eyebrow)
Since when did you become an authority on celibacy?
FRANCIS
Here now.
Let sleeping dogs lie.
ALEX
Francis Martin as a dog – that’s a pretty apt metaphor.
FRANCIS
Just because you can’t get me into bed, I’m a dog?
JOEL laughs uproariously at this, since he and ALEX went through this moments ago. ALEX just rolls his eyes.
ALEX (to JOEL)
You see what I mean about you straight boys?
LOUIS
Don’t go lumping heterosexual males into one generic group, Alex.
FRANCIS (to LOUIS)
You mean Alex doesn’t want to get you into bed?
ALEX smacks FRANCIS upside the head again. MARCUS crosses in front of them, on his way inside the residence hall. He is almost to the door when LOUIS calls out to him.
LOUIS
Oh, comrade Bellows?
MARCUS freezes like a deer in headlights, but does not turn around.
LOUIS
We of the
proletariat wonder why you insist on acting like a
bourgeois twit in ignoring an invitation to join our little revolution-plotting meeting this evening.
MARCUS turns around angrily.
MARCUS
Look, I don’t know what the hell I did to get singled out by the four of you, but I would appreciate being left alone. You think that you dazzle me with your flippant comments and your
hip cultural references. Your supposed wit is no doubt meant to amuse, but it doesn’t. It only annoys. Can you be serious about nothing? And if you think that it impresses me, don’t waste your time; it doesn’t in the slightest. And I have no desire to be anything like any of you.
A pause. They are slightly taken aback by this outburst.
ALEX
Well, after that little ferverino, I’d be tempted to call you the
Frank Burns of this operation, to carry on the
M*A*S*H metaphor of earlier today, but I wouldn’t want to be accused of being pretentious. First of all, my dear Mister Bellows, let me assure you that none of us want you be anything like us. It would be quite dull if everyone around here were alike in their personalities and temperaments – quite
dangerous if we were all like our Francis.
As to our ability to be serious, we possess it in abundance, just choose not to exercise it unless we have to. In case you hadn’t noticed, we – and you’re included this time – have chosen to embark on a lifestyle that society at large hardly considers realistic or healthy. I am of the opinion that a man has to be a
half bubble off plumb, so to speak, to survive on this counter-cultural path. Two roads divurged in the woods, and I took the one less traveled by,
Robert Frost once wrote – if you’re going to be on the one less traveled, as we are, you need to choose your survival mechanism; for the four of us, that happens to be our seemingly pointless bantering and carrying on. We could care less if you find it un-amusing or less than impressive; it keeps us sane and focused, and that’s all that matters.
ALEX pauses briefly.
ALEX
And now I shall step down from my soapbox.
There is a pause, as the others react to ALEX’s words. Then the mood is broken by JOEL, LOUIS, and FRANCIS, who hoot and holler their approval, ad-libbing “Bravo!”, “Good speech old chap!,” and other such sentiments. MARCUS turns bright red from anger, and storms into the building.
LOUIS (watching him go)
If he’s not careful, he’s liable to end up as our very own
Snidely Whiplash, with all that brooding and sneering.
The four continue to laugh about the whole incident. After a bit, Father THOMAS comes out of the residence hall.
THOMAS
Well well well, if it isn’t the
four horsemen of the apocalypse.
In rapid succession, JOEL, ALEX, and LOUIS “claim” a horseman.
JOEL
Death.
ALEX
War.
LOUIS
Famine.
A beat.
FRANCIS
Rats. I always get stuck with
Pestilence.
JOEL
Oh don’t mope, Francis. You
do put the “pest” in Pestilence, after all.
FRANCIS
In the immortal words of
Bill the Cat: Ack! Ack! Ack!
THOMAS
Remind me to speak to your respective chaplains about encouraging each of you to set up an appointment with Dr. Thompson.
ALEX
Between Joel’s obsession with tragic flaws and Francis’ sudden hairball affliction, Thompson won’t know what hit him.
THOMAS
In all seriousness, I just passed Marcus Bellows on the stairs, looking rather hot under the collar. I asked him if there was anything wrong, and he snapped something about the four blasphemous idiots sitting outside the building.
ALEX
Our Mister Bellows seems to lack any sense of humor whatsoever. We made a few jocular attempts at engaging him in our nonsensical carryings on, but he would have none of it. Any effort on our part at civility has been met with sneering contempt. One such fracas occurred not ten minutes ago, resulting in the seething state in which you encountered him.
THOMAS
Did he have to endure a Finchworth and Rhodes baffle-and-befog?
JOEL
You know about those?
THOMAS
Oh come now, Joel. You know that there very little goes on around here that I
don’t know about. And it’s not wonder the poor boy was flustered; from what I hear, the term baffle-and-befog is more than apt.
JOEL
Leaving a person flustered after one of our baffle-and-befogs is one thing –
LOUIS (half under his breath)
Lord knows I can attest to that.
JOEL
– but he got downright hostile about the whole affair. Even after I explained to him that it was all in jest, and no offense was meant, he still seemed affronted by the whole incident.
FRANCIS
When I got the routine last year, I was definitely baffled and befogged, and even a bit put out. But when Alex later told me it was all just a joke, I was cool with it. From the way Joel tells it, Marcus was even more outraged when he was “let in on the secret,” so to speak. And this little encounter out here indicated to me – and I think all of us – that our Mister Bellows needs to lighten up a little.
LOUIS
Further proof that conservatives have no sense of humor.
THOMAS
Now now, let’s not go pinning Marcus into an ideological display case. You of all people should appreciate that, Louis, as much as you pride yourself on your avoidance of being labeled. I have a feeling what Marcus needs is some gentle coaxing to bring him around. You four have a tendency towards shock tactics; try subtlety and finesse for a change.
JOEL
Subtlety and finesse? Louis is out of the running, then.
LOUIS puffs up with hyperbolic pride.
LOUIS
Dost thou imply that my talents at understatement are lacking, sir?
FRANCIS
I just think Marcus is beyond our efforts, Padre.
THOMAS
You’re giving up after less than 24 hours, when the formation team hasn’t given up on you after an entire academic year, Francis?
FRANCIS
Sorry, Father.
THOMAS
Just keep in mind what happened when
a certain Roman governor washed his hands of situation that seemed too problematic for him to solve.
A brief pause.
THOMAS
I leave you with that thought, gentlemen.
THOMAS heads down the sidewalk. There is another pause as the four consider THOMAS’ words.
FADE OUT:
END OF ACT TWO