[ominous music]
*
- Hi, hi.
Norman Mailer lived, uh, two doors down.
I saw him bite Rip Torn's ear off one night.
Seems like a different lifetime.
If you're looking for more action, I can, uh,
show you something on Commercial Street.
But you should know that by November, even downtown
is so empty and quiet that you could hear a gnat fart.
- I like the quiet.
Need my privacy.
How's the ventilation?
These old houses can get pretty stuffy.
- You a writer?
Painter?
Hermit?
I know you're not here for the social scene,
whatever's left of it.
I've been here for 50 years.
[chuckles]
You know, back in the day, you'd walk downtown,
and you'd see boys getting butt-fucked on front porches
like some kind of perverted Norman Rockwell painting.
It was true homosexual Americana.
Now it's Mom and Dad or Dad and Dad or Mom and Mom
and baby stroller gridlock all fucking summer long.
- I just left my job at a lab in Providence.
- What are you, a chemist?
- It was an ugly divorce.
I just need some time alone.
- Let's cut the bullshit.
A big-city chemist looking for a quiet place
with great ventilation in a town where the things
that are most plentiful for eight months a year
are methheads, choppy seas, and depression?
That sounds like a woman looking to set up
her own little meth lab.
- I have a PhD from Harvard.
Meth is well below my pay grade.
- Good.
'Cause the sheriff has a nose like a truffle pig
for that junk.
- Just lookin' for some quiet.
I'll take it.
[suspenseful music]
*
[liquid trickling]
*
[chilling music]
*
[piano music playing]
- Do you know that guy, uh, Tex?
He cruises the docks?
- Wait, don't tell me. He's from Texas.
- Yeah. How'd you know?
[laughs]
Anyway, he taught me this trick
you do right before a guy comes.
- Mm. - You press down on his taint,
you time it just right,
you can get him to come again right away.
- Mm, but you'll charge me for just the one, right?
- Exactly.
- You're playing out of your league.
Scram.
- Look, can I just borrow ten bucks?
- I said scram, methhead.
- Hi. - Hi.
- I'm new in town, got a few extra bucks.
You do girls too?
- Yep. Here.
Look at that. I'm a gentleman.
- [chuckles]
[eerie music]
*
Don't touch anything.
- So, uh, what do you want? [chuckles]
Kind of do things as a standard
sliding scale kind of deal.
It's, uh, $50 for oral.
Straight-up sex, that's $100,
but I'm currently running a Halloween special.
I'll do anything for 20 bucks.
- But Halloween isn't for a week.
- Mm. It's a, um, seasonal thing.
[both laugh] - I just wanna talk.
I'll pay you for your time.
- All right.
- Tell me about your dreams.
- Like, at night?
- No. Like, in life.
You ever wanna be a model or play for the Yankees?
- You really think I could be a model?
- No. But you must have something.
Everyone does.
- Well, I write a little.
- You any good?
- I don't know. [laughs]
I don't think I've ever shown anyone
anything I've written before, but, uh...
um, yeah, you know, I think I'm pretty good.
Why, you, like, a big-time movie producer or something?
- I'm a biochemical engineer.
Spent the past nine years working with the U.S. military
trying to understand and unlock
the creative parts of the brain.
- They wanna make more creative soldiers?
- Less.
They don't want them to think for themselves.
But to lock up the creative mind,
we also have to understand how to unlock it.
We have tons of research
from studying highly creative people.
Every one of 'em says the same thing.
They don't know where it comes from.
[whispering] But I do.
[normally] The occipital lobe.
Talented people have denser, more numerous clusters
of neurons in that area.
I don't care if you are Bill fucking Shakespeare.
If I whack you hard enough in that part of your head,
you'll never write again.
So I started developing a drug to target that area.
Made the neurons in that part of the brain fire at 10,
50, 1,000 times faster and more frequently
than they usually do.
- Uh, wow, um... [laughs]
Did it work?
- We started testing it on primates.
And yeah, it worked...
on some of the apes.
The ones who tested higher on cognitive tests
before we gave them the medicine.
Suddenly, they could play complex notes on a keyboard.
- So, um, what happened to the ones it, like, didn't work on?
- They became highly aggressive.
Bloodthirsty.
Tore the other apes limb from limb.
I think the medicine has different effects
on creative and noncreative people.
It's almost like the noncreative ones
can tolerate their lack of talent
until they're confronted with it.
Then their mediocrity drives 'em mad.
So...
Wanna try one?
- Fuck no!
- Maybe you're one of the talented ones.
- Um...
Thanks but no, thanks.
Uh, look, can I just get my money?
- It's a long winter.
*
I'll give you $50 for anyone you convince
to come take one of these lil' black beauties.
*
[scattered applause]
- Maybe I should sing tonight.
Do you think they have any Joan Baez?
- Ooh, wow, Joan Baez. [both laugh]
Wait, doesn't, uh, singin' make your cough worse anyway?
- Yeah, but...
good news is, it's October and I've only had bronchitis
five times this year.
- Oh, that's a-- a real victory, Karen.
[both laugh]
- [coughs]
- I always get depressed this time of year.
- Oh, no, no.
I love it.
All the assholes leave town, and the galleries close, and...
none of the paintings inside them mock me when I walk by.
- Do you think you're talented?
Like, uh--like, uh-- like, if you just had,
like, a little bit of help,
you could paint things good enough for those galleries?
- Oh.
No.
No, I'm shit inside and out.
Can I have a hit, please, before I bore myself to tears?
[Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are" playing]
[microphone feedback whines]
*
[sniffs, coughs]
- * Don't go changing
♪ To try and please me
♪ You never let me down before ♪
[suspenseful music]
[banging on door]
*
Hey.
I'm a singer.
Mickey sent me.
*
[soft dramatic music]
[bell rings]
- Welcome, welcome to our last
Autumn Reading Octoberfest event.
Some people come out to the Cape to see the foliage,
others for a fresh bag of cranberries
or a walk in the dunes.
But the authors we've been lucky enough
to bring here to read their new works
are just as satisfying a draw, if you ask me.
Today I'd like to welcome Belle Noir,
a romance novelist, self-published,
who will be reading from her new book,
"Martha's Cherry Tree,"
a rather racy retelling
of the George and Martha Washington story.
[light applause]
- Thank you.
I'm going to read you a section of chapter 17.
Martha suspects George is sleeping
with one of their maids.
And upon searching the maid's bed,
she finds one of George's wooden teeth.
Rather than confront George,
she decides to seduce the maid herself.
"'I cannot tell a lie.
"I cannot tell a lie.'
"Had he whispered those false words
"to innocent little Penelope
"when he drove himself into her?
"Had he lied about loving her?
"Lied about her being the only one?
"Lied about never lying?
"The only thing that distracted her from these thoughts
"was the soft skin of Penelope's breasts and belly
"as Martha slowly kissed her way down to the hairy warmth
between the young maid's legs."
[doleful music]
*
[bell rings]
*
Who should I make it out to?
- The Chemist.
You're a good writer.
- That's very kind of you.
- Got some real potential.
- Tell the publishing houses for me, would you?
*
[seagulls squawking]
*
You said you were going to come in for the reading.
- Your books gross me out.
- It grosses you out to hear your wife talk about sex?
- Yes, especially this book.
I can't look at a $1 bill or Mount Rushmore anymore
without wantin' to puke.
How many books did you sell?
- One. - [scoffs] For fuck's sake.
I would've just bought a book from you at home,
and we could've skipped this bullshit.
- It's not bullshit.
It's my dream.
- What do you want from me, Belle?
I'm here, aren't I? I agreed to puttin' up
a big chunk of our retirement for this dumb book tour,
during which we've sold six books.
You want me to support your dream?
Here I am, supporting the fuck out of it.
- [chuckling] And I'm grateful.
But can't you see I'm doing it for both of us?
I could be the next Danielle Steel.
She's worth a billion dollars.
- How many times has she been married?
- Four, maybe five.
- Well, I guess then there's one way you could be like her.
- [huffs]
*
Let's go back to the hotel and freshen up
and then watch the sunset from Muse.
I hear it's beautiful.
- Do you want me to suck some cock while I'm in there?
- What? No.
- Then why are you asking me to go to a homo bar
and do something totally gay like watch the fucking sunset?
I wanna do something actually fun,
like the haunted dune tour.
- Sounds scary, I don't wanna have nightmares.
I need my sleep before the next tour stop in the Vineyard.
- You know why I'm really so angry at you?
It's not the stupid book tour
or the fact that you write about sex all day
but haven't touched my dick in two years.
It's that you're weak
and scared
and boring.
- I'm the same as I was when you married me 40 years ago.
- Well, I was at work for those 40 years.
Now that I have to be with you all the time,
it's intolerable.
- I hear they have great calamari!
[soft piano music playing]
*
- Hey.
Pretty cool color on your nails.
You mind if I join you?
- What are you, a hustler?
I wrote a book about a hustler
who ends up sleeping with the head of the KGB
and then becomes head of the CIA.
- That sounds awesome. [chuckles]
I'd like to read that.
- I'll send you a copy.
You're wasting your time with me; I'm married.
- Wait.
I know you.
You're the author that was doing the reading
at the bookstore, right?
- Were you there? - Uh, well, no.
They, uh--they don't let me in there anymore
after I stole the, uh, "Screenplay for Dummies" book
a while back, but, uh,
I saw you through the window.
- You write too?
- Ah, sometimes, but not like you.
You're, like, a real published author.
- Self-published.
- Hey, I mean,
just finishing a book's a big deal, right?
[chuckles]
- Let me buy you a drink.
- Yeah.
- I know they say that anyone can be a writer,
because all you have to do is sit down and write,
but that doesn't make you a writer any more
than a kid playing catch is a ballplayer
or a sperm donor is a dad.
I know I'm not the greatest writer in the world.
I mean, a lot of my stuff is schlock, but...
I'm a writer; I know I am.
I can't stop.
Even if it wrecks my marriage,
even if I go broke doing it,
even if I never sell a book,
it's who I am.
Can I ask you a question?
Do you have any cocaine?
I always wanted to try it, and you look like a drug addict.
No offense.
- Oh, none taken.
'Cause I am. - Mm.
- But, um, no, no coke. But...
I've got something better.
[ominous music]
*
- [sniffs]
[gasps]
[chaotic percussive music]
*
[dreamy pop music playing]
*
[ominous music]
*
- Give me a Bloody Mary.
- Hey, dude, you don't look good.
- I feel sick.
I think that bitch Karen gave me bronchitis or something.
- You sure? 'Cause she says
she hasn't been sick in a while.
*
- I'm gonna puke.
[door slams]
[retching]
[panting]
[unsettling music]
*
- I'm so happy.
- Uh, yeah, that's the drugs.
- Then I want more.
- [laughs] Yeah, you see,
it doesn't really work that way.
First time's the best, and then, uh,
you end up chasing that high forever,
and you never catch it.
- That's some bullshit.
- Mm-hmm. - [laughs]
- Uh, you know, I, uh--
I know someone that can give you something else.
Something that can make you happy forever.
- How come you're not taking it?
- 'Cause it's, uh-- it's not for me.
It only works for people like you.
Artists.
*
We've been waitin' half an hour.
- I wanted to read this first.
You have talent.
- Thank you. - Took everything in me
not to rub one out during that threesome
with George and Martha and Ben Franklin.
- I've always found heavier-set men
to be extremely attractive.
- Mickey tell you what I'm offering?
- Making all my dreams come true.
I'm in. - You wanna know about
the side effects?
- I know I'm talented.
- The pills create certain cravings.
And they cause aggression
even in the subjects with positive results.
- I could use a little of that too.
According to my husband.
Please, I need this.
*
- The effects are temporary.
You're gonna have to keep taking them as it wears off.
And you're gonna have to stick around
and agree to let me study you.
- Whatever it takes...
*
To finding my destiny.
*
[breathes shakily]
*
[keys jangling]
[lock clicks]
[line rings]
- You've reached Ray. Leave a message.
- Asshole. [beep]
[sudden intense music]
[gagging and spitting]
[sinister music]
*
[music intensifies]
*
[laughing hysterically]
- Good morning.
What's wrong with you?
- I wrote a book last night.
A whole book, and it's--
it's beautiful.
- Bullshit.
Let me see.
You didn't write this.
- What?
Yes, I did. - You couldn't have.
It's good.
- I did write it!
I went out and danced
and took methamphetamine
and met a chemist and had the time of my life!
And then I came home, and I wrote this!
Where the fuck were you?
- I went to the dunes tour,
and I got drunk,
and I met a woman who doesn't dress like a schoolteacher,
and I fucked her right there in the sand
until we passed out.
Then we woke up and fucked again.
- [gasps] - Now I'm gonna take a shower.
I'm gonna pack my things.
I'm gonna go over to the Red Inn.
I'm gonna fuck her for a third time.
Because this marriage...
is over.
- [sobs]
[heartbeat thumping]
- What?
You got something you wanna say?
- [groans]
[screams]
- Ah!
[gagging]
[tense music]
*
[muffled screaming]
- [slurping and grunting]
[panting]
*
- What was the feeling exactly?
- I don't know. Rage?
Like Braveheart or a beast of the wild.
But that's not what made me attack him.
- What was it?
- Thirst.
I could smell his blood through his skin.
I was gonna die if I didn't drink it.
- Fascinating.
Not surprising, but fascinating.
- You knew this was going to happen?
- [exhales sharply]
After the rages,
the apes would drink the blood of their kills.
When we autopsied the ones before they drank,
we noticed a depletion of sodium, potassium,
calcium, and magnesium in their blood.
I wasn't sure it'd have the same effect on humans, but...
makes sense that it would.
- Am I going to have to keep drinking blood
to keep writing like that?
- Would that stop you from continuing to take the pills?
*
What happened after you drank from your husband?
- I, uh, sat down and...
wrote the first 50 pages of part two of my book.
I didn't even care about Ray.
I just had to write.
- First things first,
you got to get rid of your husband's body.
*
- Come on.
Mm.
*
Ah!
*
No, no, no, no, no! Back, back, back.
Jesus.
Ew.
- Did your hair all fall out on its own?
- Most of it.
I shaved the rest.
Otherwise I'd look like Riff Raff from "Rocky Horror."
- Your skin is looking rather creamy.
Probably a form of anemia.
How's your temper?
Have you shown any aggression towards anyone?
- No.
I'm a fucking Buddhist.
I wanna be like Bono and use my music to help people.
I need more pills.
The dose you gave me must have been too low.
I have never felt a jones like this before.
- I told you, I set the protocol.
And you don't get another pill until day five.
It's day three.
- What did you do to me?
Why is this happening to me?
Please, give me a fix.
Just one more pill.
- You're part of a very important study.
And you volunteered for it.
Honestly, I don't know what's happening to you
or what comes next.
All I know is, no more pills for two days.
- And if I die before then?
I'm freezing cold. I can't stop shivering.
Is that supposed to happen?
- It's October.
You're wearing a light jacket.
Go get yourself a proper fucking coat.
*
[bell rings]
- I'm diggin' the look.
Vampire Michael Stipe.
Or anorexic Uncle Fester?
You want a tattoo?
I do them in the back.
I could give you bat wings
or, like, a grim reaper dancing on your arm.
- I need a coat.
And I don't have a lot of money.
- I got just the thing.
*
- These look expensive.
- They were, in the '80s.
All the fashion gays from New York and Boston
came out here to let their dicks and rainbow flags fly.
Then they all died and left behind closets
full of this high-fashion stuff.
When the straight yuppies moved into town,
they cleaned out the closets and donated all of it to us.
I was hoping to sell a few for Halloween, but no takers.
I'll basically give one to you if you take it off my hands.
[ominous music]
*
- [whispering indistinctly]
*
You don't look well.
Would you pray with me?
- Yeah.
- [praying in Portuguese]
*
- [breathing shallowly]
*
[chaotic music]
*
[slurping]
- [roars]
[children screaming]
[dark music]
*
- [distorted] Awesome costume, dude.
[laughter]
*
[knocking]
- The candy's in the--
[whispering] Come in.
[normally] What happened?
It states in section four of the contract you signed
to be a part of the study
that you have complete confidentiality
for anything you say in here.
- I was in the cemetery, and I--
I don't know what happened.
I'm a vegan.
I don't even eat those Impossible Burgers,
but the thirst for her was too much.
- How much blood did you drink?
- I don't fucking know!
I killed her!
She asked me to pray with her, and I killed her!
- Did you feel anger, rage?
- Yes. Why?
- [sighs] You drank the blood
'cause the pills create a deficiency.
You felt the rage because you now hate everyone.
- Why?
I told you, I'm a pacifist.
- You hate everyone because you now know
the truth about yourself.
You're not talented.
You don't have what it takes.
[somber music]
- [crying]
- The talented ones need the blood,
but their rage comes from their arrogance
and certainty that they're better than everyone.
The rage of the untalented is much darker, more intense.
You hate the world for giving you dreams that were too big.
Back up, motherfucker.
- [growls]
- Never come back here again.
Don't worry, I'm sure you'll have plenty of company soon.
Soon as word gets out about what I'm sellin' here,
every asshole whose mother told him he could be
the next Elvis or Tyler Perry
gonna take a chance on that little black pill.
Nine out of ten of 'em are gonna end up just like you.
Now, get the fuck out my house.
*
[intense music]
*
- [retching] Ugh.
[groans]
Hey, dude.
Never mix tequila and merlot.
- [snarling]
- [screams]
[doleful music]
*
- You wanna try that on?
- I don't know, perhaps.
I'm looking to create an entirely new closet,
a whole new look.
- New guy in your life?
- Mm, no, I like to play the field,
preferably with multiple players.
- [chuckles]
- I left my husband a few winters ago.
Left him in pieces on the beach.
Just kidding.
- I killed my last boyfriend.
He could bang me pretty good, but he was boring as fuck.
So I drank him dry and burned the body.
- [laughs softly]
- How long you been on the pill?
- Two years. You?
- Couple of months.
What's motivating the new look?
- I always thought that a woman should pick a look
before she turns 40 and stick with it.
For men, it's 50. And I did that.
But lately I've been thinking that that's a rule
for people with no second act.
I've published six "New York Times" best sellers
in the past two years,
one that was turned into a film franchise.
- [gasps]
"The Heart is the Bitterest Root,"
I love those movies.
- What about you, dear?
How does your little black pill-driven greatness
express itself?
- Tattoos.
And these.
- [laughing] Oh, my! How convenient.
I must have a set!
- I can arrange that.
Step into my office.
After, we can give you a wardrobe makeover.
- Mm, I'm belle of the ball.
[both chuckle]
[dark music]
*
[indistinct chatter, laughter]
*
- $5 cover.
It's drag night. We gotta pay the performers.
*
- Wanna check my ID?
- Nah. You're good.
[crowd cheering]
- Thank you! We're gonna take a short break
before our next performer!
[applause]
[thumping dance music playing]
*
- Drag is an art form.
I am a professional.
You three...
straight boys in bad wigs.
[laughs] - Pfft!
- You know, men have been performing in women's clothing
since the time of the Greeks.
You all just appropriated it for gay culture.
- Speak for yourself, dude.
I don't give two shits who's appropriate or not appropriate.
All I know is, I can make more doin' this than painting houses
or stealing from my grandmother.
My problem with you is,
you're the ugliest fuckin' woman I ever seen.
- [coughs] And your drag name is awful.
- Patty O'Furniture.
That's an awesome name.
- And why in the hell do you think people
want to be thinkin' of some suburban deck chair
while you perform for them?
Look at me!
I'm Crystal Decanter.
I ooze elegance and shine.
I don't know why y'all are tryin' to read him
when y'all are just as bad as he is,
probably worse.
- Next up, Patty O'Furniture.
- Oh, fuck my life.
- Don't even try to upstage me, asswipe.
- [coughs] - What a loser.
- Boo!
- Break a nail, whore. - Yeah.
- The only thing he's gonna break is his heels.
- Loser. - Ugh.
*
[Heart's "Magic Man" playing]
[cheers and applause]
*
- * Cold late night
* So long ago
* When I was not so strong, you know *
* A pretty man came to me
- Boo, boo! - Awful!
- * Never seen eyes so blue
* You know I could not run away, it seemed *
* We'd seen each other in a dream *
* Seemed like he knew me
* He looked right through me, yeah *
- Tell 'em, girlfriend!
- * "Come on home, girl," he said with a smile *
* "You don't have to love me yet *
* Let's get high awhile"
- You suck!
- * But try to understand
* Try to understand
* Oh, oh-oh
* Try
* Try to understand
* Try, try, try to understand *
- [laughs] - Loser!
- * He's a magic man
* Oh, yeah
* Ooh
* He got the magic hands
* He's a magic man
* Yeah
* Oh, oh
[mournful piano music playing]
♪
- What is it?
- Does it matter?
Goes down easy and gets you high.
- Uh-huh.
[somber music]
*
- You don't belong in here...
doing this...
dressed like that.
I've got a nose for talent.
Why is a young man of your gifts
lip-synching in drag
on the cock tip of Cape Cod in the winter?
- I'm a playwright.
I sweet-talked the owner of the playhouse in town
into putting on one of my plays.
I rented a place, I moved out here,
I started casting, and then the guy just...
disappeared.
Not a trace of him.
- Oh.
What'd he look like?
- Like, six feet tall, chubby,
kind of red face all the time.
Why, have you seen him?
[intense music]
- [gagging]
[muffled screaming]
*
- No.
- [sighs]
I'm doin' this drag thing just to pay for food,
pack of smokes.
I'm bad at it.
I know I'm bad at it.
I just feel like an engine that won't turn over.
I just--I turn the key, and I click, click, click,
and I can't catch.
[ominous music]
*
What's that?
- It's your new starter switch.
It's the highway to your true self.
*
- Fuck it.
[exhales]
[chaotic music]
[piano notes play]
[coughing]
[gurgling]
[music fades]
[groans]
[spits, groans]
[unsettling music]
What did you give me?
- What do you feel?
- Unstoppable. Unafraid.
Furious. [inhales sharply]
[gags]
And starving.
- Let's go get you fed
and get a little revenge at the same time.
*
- Yeah.
*
- All of these ladies have found themselves
in a dead heat for first.
- I would do so much better
than all these bitches on this show.
- Can we please watch something else?
- I told you straight boys,
if you want makeup tips from Ms. Crystal,
you pay for the pizza, and we watch what I wanna watch.
- I kind of like this show.
High fuckin' drama, you know?
- Please put on a hockey game before I start singin'
"The Wizard of Oz" and thinkin' about dick.
[laughter]
- Can we help you?
- If you're gonna make it in this business,
you might want to camp it up a little bit more, sweetheart.
Though I do like her wig.
- Oh, I'm not one of you.
- [chuckles] - Ugh.
- Ugh, well, no wonder you have no sparkle.
Gettin' advice from that sultan of snore.
- Lock the door.
[gunshot] - Ah!
- [shrieks]
- [groans]
[screaming]
[gunshots] [all screaming]
- [whimpering]
Retreat!
*
- Hiyah!
Ugh.
[panting]
- You can't win 'em all.
I'm full anyway.
- What do we do now?
- Now...
we go write.
*
- [panting, whimpering]
*
[crying]
Okay, it's okay. [sniffles]
Okay.
[screams]