[Quick Summary: Womanizing, drunk Scottish poet, who hasn't written in years, is spun around when he meets an unimpressed young woman.]
Of all the many, many scripts he had written,* Julius Epstein said that THIS SCRIPT was the one he was most proud of (though not heard of much).**
Gowan McGland is a droll, clever poet, who is doing the lecture circuit in upstate New York. He is also doing every female in sight and drinking himself blind.
His central problem is put best by his friendly, estranged wife Edith: "The trouble with you, Gowan, is that you've always wanted unearned fruits."
Soon, Gowan will be meeting beautiful college student Geneva, who does not play Gowan's games. He will have to earn her respect.
I thought it was interesting how the writer decided to foreshadow this high level of doggedness by showing it first in Geneva's mom (scene below).
NOTES:
- Mare and husband George are chicken farmers. Their daughter is Geneva.
- Mr. and Mrs. Springer are "commuters" to NY. Their son is Tad.
- The Springers didn't want Tad to date chicken farmers' daughter, and sent him away to college.
- Mare was more upset than everyone. Now she takes it out on all commuters.
- There are eggs on the shelf behind Mare.
EXT. FARMHOUSE - DAY
...Mare and George make an appearance. George stays in the b.g. With Mare, what else can he do? Mare fastens a deadpan glance at Mrs. Beausaigneur, who adopts a nervous manner of false bonhomie.
MRS. BEUSEIGNEUR: Good evening. Getting quite coolish, isn't it? (no answer from Mare) I'd like a few of your wonderful fryers. Last week, when you didn't have any left, my husband was so disappointed. He says no one else has such delicious ones as you have. Four, please?
MARE: We're out of fryers.
MRS. BEUSEIGNEUR: Oh. Then can I have two broilers.
MARE: We're out of broilers.
MRS. BEUSEIGNEUR: Oh, dear. (pause, then with some desperation) My husband isn't really a commuter. he gets off at Stamford. Why, we don't even take the New York Times, except on Sundays.
MARE: Occupation?
MRS. BEUSEIGNEUR: Investment adviser.
MARE: Place of residence?
MRS. BEUSEIGNEUR: Vineyard Acres, we're practically neighbors (a little apologetic laugh) Oh, I know we're making it a bit crampedish for you, but -- (nervous laugh) You see, Lester telephoned me just now to ask could he bring a friend, a classmate home for dinner. I thought, Gawd, the house is an absolute shambles, and I'm not a short order cook. But maybe if I could fricassee a few -- (puts her hand on Mare's arm. Mare pulls away) As I say, his office is in Stamford. If you ever need any advice on investments -- (an idea hits her) He's thinking of driving in on the Thruway. Not taking the train at all.
MARE: Sorry. No chickens.
MRS. BEUSEIGNEUR (desperation time): Then I'd better make an omelet. Two dozen eggs, please.
MARE: We're out of eggs.
MRS. BEUSEIGNEUR (exploding): I didn't jilt your daughter. My husband didn't jilt your daughter. Yet you make us drive clear down to town for chickens -- frozen ones at that! -- because somebody else did. If that isn't paranoid, what is!
She storms out, slamming the screen door.
WHAT I'VE LEARNED: On my first read, I thought this was an amusing side story. On a closer read, it's really a more interesting way to foreshadow.
Rueben Rueben (1983)
by Julius J. Epstein
Based on the novel by Peter DeVries, and the play by Herman Shumlin
For more insights on a fascinating career, I'd recommend his in-depth interview in Naked Screenwriting (2021).
**The script is great, but I wondered if it's almost too clever a play to translate well to film? I am looking forward to seeing the finished film.
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