Prairie Home Companion, A (movie tie-in) Read online

  A big mirror with pictures taped to it. Makeup supplies on the table under it, which is also crowded with pictures in silver frames, a coffeemaker sitting on a microwave, phone books, a stuffed cat, a snow globe, a No Parking sign. There are hand-lettered signs, too: “DO NOT ‘HELP YOURSELF’ TO MAKEUP. ASK FIRST. THIS MEANS YOU.” “COFFEE 25¢—ASK ABOUT OUR WEEKLY & MONTHLY RATES.”

  GK stands in the middle of the room, in white shirt, undershorts, red socks, holding a pair of pants, which he is hanging on a hanger. LEFTY sits at a table playing solitaire. DUSTY slouches in a chair, thumbing through a magazine. Other musicians come and go. DONNA, the makeup lady, works on a musician sitting in the makeup chair, at the mirror. GK’s dressing area is a corner of the room, his black suit hanging on a hook, his shoes, an old black Underwood typewriter on a stand, with stuff piled on it.

  GK

  I don’t know. Thirty years. No, forty. They

  were having Mark Twain Days on the

  Mississippi and I was hired to dress up as

  Huck Finn and run a raft and take people for

  rides and one day the raft hit the wake of a

  steamboat—

  MOLLY enters.

  MOLLY

  Mr. Keillor, we need you onstage—

  LEFTY

  Is this the story where the guy flies around

  on a kite that’s being pulled by a boat and his

  shorts are down around his ankles?

  GK

  No, that’s another story. This pontoon boat—

  DUSTY

  I thought it was a raft.

  GK

  It was a pontoon boat made to look like a

  raft.

  DUSTY

  Oh. You said raft—

  GK

  It was a pontoon boat that they pretended

  was a raft. Anyway, we hit the wake and she

  tipped and the barbecue tipped over and red-hot

  coals come skittering across the deck of

  the boat and they all pitched themselves over

  the rail—

  LEFTY

  What did that have to do with you going into

  radio?

  GK

  I was just about to get to that.

  DUSTY

  This isn’t the story about the kite?

  GK

  You know, when you keep interrupting . . .

  you break the flow of a story.

  LEFTY (TO DUSTY)

  Yeah, shut up, let the man talk.

  MOLLY

  Mr. Keillor? Al is on the verge of a coronary

  up there.

  GK

  Be right there.

  He takes his pants off the hanger and steps into them.

  10 INT. BACKSTAGE—SAME TIME

  The door to the atrium is opened and YOLANDA JOHNSON walks in, carrying two dresses on a hanger covered with plastic and a small traveling suitcase, and behind her, each holding dresses on hangers under clear plastic and traveling bags, are YOLANDA’s sister RHONDA and YOLANDA’s daughter LOLA.

  YOLANDA

  Thank you, Roberto.

  Sorry we’re late. There was a freight train.

  Longest train I ever saw.

  STAGEHAND 1

  Hey, no problemo.

  RHONDA

  We left the car double-parked in the street—

  STAGEHAND 1

  I’ll take care of it.

  YOLANDA

  You’re a sweetheart.—Hi, John. Hi, Peter.

  She walks by a little cluster of musicians jamming in the corner, against the brick wall, and stops.

  YOLANDA

  That’s the—what is that song?—that’s . . .

  RHONDA

  “Honolulu Mama, could she dance, in her

  pink pajamas when she took off her Oahu

  Oahu Oahu . . .”

  YOLANDA

  Naw. It’s a Carter Family song.

  LOLA

  A what?

  YOLANDA

  Carter Family, honey. Like us, except famous.

  She walks into GUY NOIR’s office. GUY NOIR is dozing in his chair. She sets down her traveling bag and puts her arm around LOLA, wanting her to look at the backstage scene, the crowd, the lowered curtain, the heightened anticipation, and remember it, memorize it.

  YOLANDA

  Look at this. Just look at it. I wish I had a

  picture of

  it.

  LOLA

  So take one.

  YOLANDA

  This has been—home—since I was your age.

  My mom used to drop us off at the door and

  go home and listen to us sing on the radio.

  LOLA

  Fascinating.

  GUY NOIR (O.C.)

  Miss Yolanda and the luminous Lola.

  RHONDA

  Don’t forget the resplendent Rhonda.

  RHONDA vamps, flutters, as YOLANDA, grinning, reaches for his hand.

  YOLANDA

  Mr. Noir—once more.

  GUY NOIR

  A pleasure.

  GUY NOIR stands, takes YOLANDA’s hand and bows. He kisses LOLA’s hand and kisses RHONDA on the cheek. He picks up YOLANDA’s traveling bag and takes the dress on the hanger, and also the dress that LOLA is carrying, and tucks her traveling bag under one arm, and leads them through the backstage crowd.

  GUY NOIR

  I don’t carry luggage in my line of work but I

  make an exception for certain friends.

  They turn across the stage in front of the Prairie Home house and YOLANDA stops and touches the railing.

  YOLANDA

  Good-bye my old house. Good-bye porch.

  We sat up here when we were kids,

  remember?

  RHONDA

  Sat and shot rubber bands into the audience.

  People thought they were fruit bats.

  YOLANDA

  What are they going to do with the house,

  Guy?

  GUY NOIR

  They moved in a huge Dumpster yesterday.

  (TO LOLA)

  One of these gowns belong to you, ma

  cherie?

  With GUY NOIR leading the way, YOLANDA, LOLA, and RHONDA make their way past the stage.

  LOLA

  Not really.

  YOLANDA

  Try it on. I’d just like to see it on you.

  LOLA

  I’d like to see it on you. It looks like

  somebody’s old bridesmaid dress. It’s the

  color of cat urine.

  YOLANDA smiles a forced smile for the bystanders and then stops, noticing a paper tacked to a bulletin board at the head of the stairs. She reads it.

  YOLANDA

  What is this supposed to mean?

  The notice on the bulletin board. In large black letters:

  “ALL PERSONAL PROPERTY MUST BE REMOVED FROM PREMISES IMMEDIATELY AFTER SHOW OR IT WILL BE DESTROYED. NO EXCEPTIONS. MANAGEMENT.”

  YOLANDA (O.C.)

  Who put this up here?

  GUY NOIR

  The boys upstairs, of course.

  RHONDA (O.C.)

  So it’s true?

  YOLANDA (O.C.)

  I don’t even want to think about it.

  She looks at the notice, shudders, and heads down the stairs.

  LOLA

  What’s the big deal?

  YOLANDA

  I can’t talk about it.

  MOLLY ON P.A. (O.C.)

  Ladies and gentlemen—we are now eight

  minutes from broadcast. Eight minutes.

  Places, please.

  STAGE MANAGER (O.C.)

  Where’d Guy Noir go to? Hey, Noir! Noir!!!

  10A INT. MAKEUP ROOM—SAME TIME

  GK is pulling on his pants.

  STAGE MANAGER ON P.A.

  Guy Noir to the stage, please.

  DONNA, the makeup lady, is spraying DUSTY’s hair. LEFTY shuffles the cards for another hand of so
litaire.

  DONNA

  So how did you get into radio?

  GK

  One of those guys who fell off the raft was

  Old Man Soderberg and he couldn’t swim

  and I got him to shore.

  DUSTY

  So you saved his life.

  GK

  Well, the water was fairly shallow but he

  didn’t know that because I was towing him

  pretty fast.

  LEFTY

  And he gave you a job here at WLT.

  GK

  His brother did.

  DONNA

  Art Soderberg.

  GK

  Right. The one on the raft was Ray

  Soderberg.

  LEFTY

  So Art Soderberg gave you the job—

  DONNA

  It was on the early-morning show.

  LEFTY

  Dusty and I used to have an early-morning

  show.

  DUSTY

  Breakfast in the Bunkhouse . . . TV show. We

  showed cartoons.

  GK

  It was a show called The Rise and Shine Show,

  with a guy named Wilmer Scott.

  DONNA

  Came on at five o’clock in the morning.

  Gospel show.

  GK

  Right. Inspirational show.

  LEFTY

  Wasn’t Wilmer Scott a famous aviator?

  GK

  You’re thinking of Wilbur Scott.

  LEFTY

  First man to fly solo the length of the

  Mississippi River.

  GK

  Wilbur Scott.

  LEFTY

  Flew from New Orleans to Memphis to

  Minnesota all the way to Lake Itasca and

  celebrated his success by firing a signal

  rocket out the cockpit window and became

  the first civilian pilot to shoot himself down.

  DUSTY

  You made that up.

  LEFTY

  Crashed in the lake at his moment of

  triumph.

  GK

  Anyway, this was his brother Wilmer Scott.

  DONNA

  The Rise and Shine Show . . .

  GK

  He’d been doing the show for thirty years

  and the only way he could form words and

  sentences at 5 AM—

  MOLLY enters, breathless.

  MOLLY

  Really—we need you upstairs—okay?

  GK

  Be right there.—The only way he could talk

  at 5 AM—

  DONNA

  —was to pour himself a little eye-opener—

  MOLLY

  Al is about to self-destruct—

  DONNA

  —and by the time GK was hired, the old

  bugger was pouring himself about five or six

  eye-openers—

  MOLLY

  He is stripping his gears.

  GK

  I’ll be right up. Just as soon as she finishes

  telling my story.

  DUSTY

  Lefty and me never drank. We learned how

  to take little naps sitting up with our eyes

  open.

  DONNA

  GK’s first day on the job, old Wilmer went on

  the air and told eight or ten dirty limericks—

  LEFTY

  On the air?

  GK

  On the air.

  DUSTY

  I think I remember hearing that. I was a small

  child—

  MOLLY

  I am going to lose my job if you don’t come.

  Think about the baby!

  She grimaces and ducks out.

  11 INT. BACKSTAGE—CONTINUOUS

  GUY NOIR sits at the stage-door security desk, pouring powdered creamer into a cup of coffee and stirring it.

  GUY NOIR

  I was helping her with her luggage.

  STAGE MANAGER (O.C.)

  You’re supposed to be guarding the door.

  GUY NOIR reaches into a desk drawer and pulls out a silver flask and unscrews the cap and pours liquid into the coffee to the very rim of the cup, stops, leans down, and sips from the cup where it sits on the desk so as not to waste a drop.

  GUY NOIR

  What you worried about?

  STAGE MANAGER (O.C.)

  We had some weird call from a crazy lady.

  GUY NOIR rummages in the desk drawer and comes up with a ruler, a pair of pliers, a length of electric cord, a paperback, a bobblehead, a cell phone, various flotsam, before finding what he wants: a pack of matches. From his breast pocket, he pulls out a cigar, puts it in his mouth, and lights it.

  GUY NOIR

  She ain’t that crazy.

  STAGE MANAGER (O.C.)

  How do you know?

  GUY NOIR

  She came in this afternoon.

  STAGE MANAGER (O.C.)

  You get a description?

  GUY NOIR

  She was beautiful. Her hair was what God

  had in mind when he said, “Let there be hair.”

  GUY NOIR stands, walks toward the camera.

  GUY NOIR

  She gave me a smile so sweet you coulda

  poured it on your pancakes.

  The camera pulls back as GUY NOIR stops and leans forward to whisper into the STAGE MANAGER’s ear.

  GUY NOIR

  Her jeans were so tight I could read the label

  on her underwear. It said, “Tuesday. Wash in

  lukewarm water and spin lightly.”

  STAGE MANAGER

  You’re making it up.

  GUY NOIR

  She was wearing a Mount Rushmore T-shirt

  and I never saw those guys look so good.

  Especially Jefferson and Lincoln. It was an

  honor to sit and inhale the same air that she

  had so recently exhaled . . . just to . . . exchange

  the atmosphere between us. So to speak.

  STAGE MANAGER

  What’d she want?

  GUY NOIR

  She had the wrong address. She was looking

  for the Presbyterian church. And like a dope I

  told her where it was . . . and away she went.

  Gone.

  He looks to his left and does a double take at MOLLY, standing there.

  GUY NOIR

  I didn’t know you were pregnant. My God.

  When did this take place?

  MOLLY

  Guy—buddy—pal—

  GUY NOIR

  Who did this to you, honey?

  He slips a protective arm around her.

  MOLLY

  For a detective, there’s a lot you don’t detect.

  GUY NOIR

  Who was it?

  MOLLY

  I don’t mean this in a critical way, but the

  word clueless comes to mind.

  DUSTY and LEFTY, passing by, stop.

  GUY NOIR

  Tell me it wasn’t anybody from around the

  show.

  MOLLY

  It wasn’t anybody from around the show.

  GUY NOIR

  That’s good.

  (TO DUSTY & LEFTY)

  Our little girl is going to be a single mother.

  LEFTY

  You poor thing.

  DUSTY

  It wasn’t me, darling! I swear on the Bible.

  LEFTY (SINGS)

  “Do not scorn her with words fierce and bitter

  Do not laugh at her shame and downfall.”

  DUSTY & LEFTY (SING)

  “For a moment just stop and consider

  That a man was the cause of it all.”

  STAGE MANAGER (O.C.)

  Dusty!

  DUSTY

  Yo!

  STAGE MANAGER (O.C.)

  About that obscene song you sang on the

  show l
ast week—