Stephen Metcalfe - Writer & Director

Anything Considered is based on the Peter Mayle novel of the same name. It was written in 1996 for producer, Stanley Jaffee and Sony Pictures

A N Y T H I N G C O N S I D E R E D

EXT. PARIS, FRANCE - NIGHT
Two in the morning. The Paris skyline a sea of lights.

EXT. MINISTRY BUILDING - NIGHT
A stone building. Ancient, imposing. CLOSE ON - A BRASS PLAQUE. L' Ministre du Agriculture.
A professorial looking man in suit, overcoat and gloves stands as the door swings shut behind him. He looks around as if surprised to find the streets so deserted this time of night. He moves down the steps. He is holding a heavy leather ATTACHE CASE. The case is HANDCUFFED to his wrist.

EXT. PARIS BOULEVARD - NIGHT
The man walks, his footsteps echoing. He suddenly stops at the sound of a car backfiring. A taxi approaches.

THE PROFESSOR
Taxi! Taxi!!
The taxi passes. The professor gulps and moves on.

EXT. PARIS BOULEVARD - ADJACENT TO A PARK - NIGHT
An entrance to the underground in the distance. The professor hurries towards it. Safety there. Light, people. And suddenly there is a shriek of tires and the nose of a battered Citroen pulls to the curb in front of the man. With a cry, the professor leaps back, clutching his attache.
A heavy, tough looking man, unshaven, dark moustache, is in the driver's seat of the car.
But now, instead of running, the professor moves angrily towards the car. Note: All dialogue in brackets is in French and should be subtitled as is necessary.

PROFESSOR
(Imbecile! You were supposed to be waiting!)
MOUSTACHE
(How could I sit? You took forever!)
PROFESSOR
(I had to destroy my notes and files.)
MOUSTACHE
(Quick, get in.)

The professor hurries around the car. He pulls open the passenger door.

PROFESSOR
(Do you have the money?)

He freezes. He's staring at the silenced barrel of a gun. Dumfounded, he looks into the face of the mustached man.

MOUSTACHE
(Sorry about this.)

He pulls the trigger twice. The professor falls back into the street. The mustached man leaps out of the car, runs around it and grabs the attache. He starts back, only to find he is dragging the Professor's body by the handcuff.

MOUSTACHE (cont'd)
Merde. (Untrustworthy bastard.)

Kneeling, he searches the body for the key. Nothing. He reaches into his pocket. A switchblade flickers. He looks around. Coast clear. Moustache sighs and sets to work.

INT. THE SAME PARIS BOULEVARD - EARLY MORNING
A dog is walking. It's mistress is trailing behind, leash in hand, a cigarette clenched between her lips. The dog shuffles excitedly over towards a park bench, curious about something - sniff-sniff. The woman removes the cigarette from her lips to toss it out into the street. She turns back. Stares a moment, confused. And - CLOSE ON her face - SCREAMS at the top of her lungs. The PROFESSOR lies beneath the bench, eyes staring. The dog begins to lick his face.

INT. THE BOULEVARD - EARLY MORNING
Policeman are holding curious on-lookers at bay. Reporters and photographers are grouped on the sidewalk. A covered body is carried towards an ambulance. The dog-walking woman is talking to detectives with such animation, she hardly has time to take oxygen from the medics in attendance. One jug stoic looking, broken nosed Frenchman listens attentively. He turns now and walks thoughtfully towards the park bench. The photographers have begun to clear; their job done. The broken nosed man stares down at the object of their attention. It lies on the cement, a chalk circle surrounding it. A man's SEVERED HAND, still in it's glove. CLOSE ON the GLOVED HAND as it fades to a BLACK AND WHITE photograph

MUSIC AND CREDITS BEGIN as we PULL BACK. THE PHOTOGRAPH is on the front page of THE INTERNATIONAL HERALD TRIBUNE. The newspaper rests on A GRAVEL DRIVEWAY. A hand reaches out. The paper is picked up. By BENNETT, thirties. Scruffy in an attractive sort of way. Undeniably English.
Bennett is standing in front of a MAGNIFICENT COUNTRY CHATEAU. Bennett stuffs the paper under his arm and walks past the ROLLS CORNICHE that's parked on the gravel drive. As he moves towards the house, we see acres of olive trees... vineyards... and in the distance, the Luberon Mountains. We are in... PROVANCE!

INT. BATHROOM - MORNING
CLOSE ON - That lurid photograph again. Bennett is sitting on the toilet, pants around his ankles, reading an inside page of the Trib. He glances at his watch, sighs. We stare at Bennett's well made but unpolished shoes as he rises and pulls up his pants and crosses the bathroom floor.
The basin where Bennett washes his hands is polished granite. The fixtures are gold. Bennett dries his hands on a plush towel. He starts to exit. He stops, remembering something. Bennett turns and flushes the toilet.

INT. RESTAURANT-QUALITY KITCHEN - DAY
Bennett checks out the contents of the cupboards. Smoked oysters. That will do. Bennett exits.

AT THE FRONT DOOR -
Bennett sets the alarm on the security system. He exits.

EXT. THE HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
Paper under his arm, oysters in hand, Bennett comes out of the house. He walks towards the Rolls. And walks past it. He gets into the old Puegot that's parked beyond it.

IN THE PUEGOT -
The smoked oysters hit the back seat to join other canned goods; mostly appetizers.

THE PUEGOT
starts up with a blast and Bennett drives away.

EXT. PROVENCAL COUNTRYSIDE - DAY
Bennett drives.

EXT. PROVENCAL ESTATE - DAY
Bennett turns up the drive to another house, this one even more grand than the last.

INT. BATHROOM - DAY
In another bathroom, Bennett flushes the toilet. He's carrying a clipboard now. He checks off a name on his list.

IN THE KITCHEN -
Bennett checks out the contents of the fridge. Milk - sniff - no. He opens the freezer.

INT. PUGEOT - DAY
Frozen lamp chops hit the back seat with the canned goods.

EXT. PROVENCAL COUNTRYSIDE - DAY
Bennett drives.

INT. ANOTHER HOUSE - DAY
Bennett comes out of a bathroom. Checks a name on his clipboard.

INT. WINE CELLAR - DAY
A cavernous wine cellar. Bennett makes an astute selection.

INT. PUGEOT - DAY
The bottle of wine hits the back seat with everything else.

INT. ANOTHER OPULENT BATHROOM - DAY
Bennett flushes the toilet. Checks a name off his list.

INT. PUGEOT - DAY
Some potatoes and freshly dug carrots hit the back seat.

INT./EXT. OTHER HOUSES - DAY

IN A SERIES OF CUTS - Bennett flushes a toilet. And checks a name off his list. And tosses canned goods into the back seat of his car. And flushes a a toilet. And checks a name. And tosses some magazines into the Pugeot. And flushes a toilet. And throws rolls of toilet paper into the back seat of the Pugeot. Bennett gets in. And drives away through the manicured fields of another rich man's estate.

EXT. ST. MARTIN - DAY
The Puegot rattles up the hill into a small, lovely Provencal village. As the Puegot passes the village square, peasants are playing boules in front of the cafe.

EXT. REAL ESTATE OFFICE - ST. MARTIN - DAY
In the window, amongst the photos of old, stone barns and renovated chicken coops is small sign. L. BENNETT - agent immobilier. The Pugeot is parked at the curb. Bennett is hunkered in the back seat of his car, putting his "groceries" into a cardboard box. Two women - very British - approach. They stare uncertainly at Benett's backside. They glance at one another.

SARA CARLTON
Mr. Bennett? Siv-voo-plea, are you Monsieur Bennett?

Bennett puts his box down on the hood of the car.
BENNETT
What's that? Yes, good day, ladies. May I help you?

The sisters glance at one another; both blush and giggle.

SARA
You are Mr. L. Bennett, the "agent immobilier"?
BENNETT
It's just Bennett, please and yes, I'm a real estate agent.
SARA
Oh, good, good. I am Sara Carlton and this, of course, my sister.
MATILDA
Matilda Carlton. Cheers.
SARA
We are friends of the Bartley's -
MATILDA
The Kensington Bartley's -
SARA
And not to be forward, but -!
MATILDA
They told us we should look you up.
BENNETT
Lovely. Lovely people the, uh - who? -
SARA
Barkley's.
BENNETT
Right, of course. The Kensington Bartlay's. Well. Interested in real estate, are we, ladies?
SARA
What? Oh, dear me, no, Mr. Bennett. We already own.
MATILDA
A small chateau over in Gordes. Quite pleasant.
SARA
No, what the Bartley's told us about, Mr. Bennett, is, well...
(half whispering)
Your beetle.
MATILDA
Yes. We're most concerned.
BENNETT
The beetle, yes, of course...
(a sigh; oh, well - )
And well you should be! It's a new and malevolent strain of dung beetle that has recently invaded the region. I'm sorry to say it takes up residence in any septic tank that's left unused and creates, well, chaos in the plumbing system.
SARA CARLTON
How horrible.
MATILDA
How unsavory.
BENNETT
Naturally the local authorities are trying to hush it up. Dung beetles, tourists. Not a pleasant combination.
MATILDA
How perfectly ghastly. What does one do?
SARA
Yes. You see, we're leaving for London Tuesday, our house will be empty for months.
BENNETT
It's a problem, isn't it. The only thing that works is regular flushing. Drown the little buggers, you see.
(offering one of his canned goods)
Smoked oysters? I've lots.

The picture on the label resembles nothing so much as a brown, drowned beetle. Bennett smiles innocently.

SARA
Ahem. Mr. Bennett, we understand you've taken care of this particular problem for the Bartley's...
MATILDA
And we were wondering...
BENNETT
(gathering up his things)
Leave everything to me. Just come by the office and drop off the keys and the address. Good day, ladies!

And turning, Bennett starts away up the street.
SARA
Oh, but Mr. Bennett, about your fee!

BENNETT
It's modest, I assure you. Bonsoir!

They watch him go. Wistful looks on their faces.
MATILDA
I say, Sara, I feel quite taken...

EXT. BOULANGERIE - DAY
Bennett comes out of the BOULANGERIE, groceries in arm. Children kicking a soccer ball, calling out his name as Bennett continues up the cobbled street. A young woman appears in the doorway to call a greeting. Bennett responds in kind. The girl watches yearningly as he walks on - until her mother pulls her back inside. MUSIC AND CREDITS END AS:

EXT. ST. MARTIN DU LAC - DAY
A small, stone house stands at the top of the hill. Bennett can hear the sound of French rock and roll as he approaches. He peers through a window. A woman is on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. Wincing, Bennett quietly goes around the house towards the back.

INT. THE HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY
Bennett enters on tip-toe. He begins to quickly put his perishables into the refrigerator. He turns and -

GEORGETTE
You owe me rent, Monsieur.

GEORGETTE, 50's, wears a UCLA sweatshirt and a yellow baseball cap - both clash magnificently with her pink tights. She speaks heavily accented English.

BENNETT
Georgette! What a surprise! I was just coming to see you.
GEORGETTE
(Bullshit.) Rent!
BENNETT
Yes, uh, Georgette, I am beside myself. I've run out of checks just this morning. If you could give the bank a little time -
GEORGETTE
Time. With you it is always time.
BENNETT
Yes, well -
GEORGETTE
If you don't start paying your bills soon, you will be doing time!
She glares at him.
GEORGETTE (cont'd)
The end of the week, no later.

She scornfully exits. Bennett sighs. And then something occurs to him and he back hurries out the door.

EXT. ST. MARTINS - DAY
Bennett hurries down the street and enters through the narrow door of the post office.

INT. POST OFFICE - DAY
Bennett steps to the small postal window just in time to see MONSIEUR PAPIN, the postmaster, holding a letter to the light, trying to make out it's contents. Papin glances towards Bennett and, caught in the act, starts.

BENNETT
Someone's love letter, Monsieur Papin?
PAPIN
Insufficient postage, Monsieur Bennett. I am obliged to send it back. You have come for your mail?
BENNETT
If it's unopened, yes.
Papin reaches into a cubbyhole and pulls out several envelopes. He passes them through the window.
PAPIN
Le bill... le bill... le bill.
(holding an envelope back)
And this. From an "agent literare".
BENNETT
Yes! At last -
PAPIN
Ah! The postage, I am sorry to say, is also not of a sufficiency.
BENNETT
I'll pay the postage.
PAPIN
No, no, there are rules, forms -
BENNETT
Fifty franks?
PAPIN
As you wish, Monsieur.

Bennett pulls out some change and counts out -
PAPIN (cont'd)
Did we say fifty francs? Of course I meant seventy five.

Bennett counts out the last of his coins and pushes them across the counter.
PAPIN (cont'd)
Your correspondence, Monsieur. Bad news, I'm afraid. Your novel has been rejected. They will be returning it under separate cover. Let us hope the postage will be of a correctness.

Bennett stares at him, the letter half-open, crushed.
BENNETT
If it's not, Monsieur Papin, do with it what you will.
Bennett turns for the door. He deposits the letter into the trash as he exits. He drops his bills in as well.

INT. CAFE - DAY
Bennett enters. The cafe is dark and quiet. A group of elderly French peasants sit silently at a table. Bennett moves to the bar. Behind it, a cheerful looking man is nursing a beer, a newspaper before him.

LEON
Hey! Bonjour, chief. How goes the selling of real estate?
BENNETT
I've haven't sold so much as an outhouse in months, Leon. If things don't change, I don't know what I'm going to do.
LEON
It's a hard life, my friend.
BENNETT
Bien sur. And then you die.
Leon turns to pour Bennett coffee.
BENNETT (cont'd)
I see the social club is in full swing.

The old men sit silent at the table; faces like lemons.
LEON
One of them farted this morning. It was the first thing any of them had to say to the others in months.
He places a coffee in front of Bennett.
LEON (cont'd)
Seen today's paper? One of your mad countrymen has now taken to advertising himself in the classifieds.
BENNETT
Really? Sounds like an enterprising fellow.
LEON
(reading)
"Unattached Englishman. Mid thirties, personable, speaks passable French - seeks work in the Aix/Avignon area. Anything considered."
BENNETT
Except marriage.
LEON
You saw it?
BENNETT
Hmm? Oh, I must have. In passing.
LEON
Box 84, Post office, Avignon. Not so far. Perhaps we even know this lunatic, uh?
BENNETT
(toasting with his coffee)
To Box 84, Leon. Let's wish the poor bastard luck.
And putting down the coffee cup, Bennett spills.
BENNETT (cont'd)
Ooops.
He reaches for napkins. The coffee spreads into he newspaper on the counter. On the front page is a photograph of THE PROFESSOR.

EXT. COUNTRY CHATEAU - DAY
An elegant country chateau. Expensive cars parked in the drive. And then a battered Pugeot.

EXT. CHATEAU - DAY
A group of richly dressed men and women are having cocktails on the stone terrace. Waiters circulate with trays of champagne. The pool sparkles. A waiter bearing a tray of appetizers passes.
A hand snakes two snacks off the tray. It's Bennett. He stuffs an appetizer into his mouth and is happily chewing when he sees A YOUNG WOMAN come onto the terrace. Tall, dark haired, beautiful; she's wearing a simple summer dress. He watches her as she moves across the terrace as if looking for someone. Staring, Bennett tosses the second appetizer into his mouth and chews. And immediately makes a face and spits something into his hand. He looks at it.

BENNETT
Mushrooms...
He wipes his hand on a jacket. He looks up. The girl is crossing to the buffet table. Bennett moves to join her.

AT THE BUFFET TABLE
The girl looks up. Bennett nods. The girl goes back to the food. Bennett begins to fill a plate. He's about to say something when a pompous looking Englishman approaches the table and grabs a plate.
BENNETT
Uh.... Mr. Carlson? Mr. Carlson, remember me? Bennett, L. Bennett - I showed you that property near Menerbe awhile back.
CARLSON
Oh... right, yes. How's it going?
BENNETT
Fine, thank you. This is such a coincidence, I, uhm... that property, have you had a chance to think about it?
CARLSON
Good God, man. That was six months ago.
Bennett glances at the girl. She doesn't seem to be paying attention.
BENNETT
Yes, well, I could show it to you again.
CARLSON
Quite all right. We bought elsewhere. Good day.
BENNETT
Yes. Good day.
A moment. Bennett turns. The girl is gone.

EXT. THE CHATEAU - CONTINUOUS
Bennett crosses the patio. The view from the back of the house in magnificent. Bennett sighs. But then:
A WOMAN'S VOICE
What's the L. Stand for?
He turns. The girl's right behind him. Bennett smiles in surprise.
BENNETT
I'm... afraid that's a trade secret. Know my name and you own me.
She almost smiles. Looks away. Checking out the party.
BENNETT (cont'd)
So, uh... who are you friendly with, the host or the hostess?
ANNA
Neither. I crashed the party.
BENNETT
Really? Well. Just another thing we have in common.
ANNA
I didn't know we had a first thing.
BENNETT
Of course we do. Champagne. Why don't I fetch us both a glass and then perhaps you'll tell me your name. Last name, of course.
THE GIRL
Perhaps.
BENNETT
Be right back.

Bennett moves across the terrace to the bar. He grabs two glasses of champagne from the bartender.
BENNETT (cont'd)
Thank you!
He turns back - just in time to see a Ferrari motor down the drive, the girl at the wheel. And then:
MATILDA
Mr. Bennett!
SARA
Yoo-hoo-hoo!
Bennett turns. It's the Carlton sister. They approach, all aflutter like geese.
MATILDA
What a lovely coincidence!
SARA
I should say!
Bennett sighs.
BENNETT
Yes... isn't it. Champagne?