THIS IS THE LONG FORGOTTEN ABOUT SCRIPT FOR A SHORT FILM THAT NEVER GOT OFF THE GROUND. I USED MODOLIA IN MY ONE MAN SHOW IN 1997, SO SHE DID COME TO SOME SORT OF LIFE...

1. DAY. INT. MODOLIA'S DRAWING ROOM.

We are in Edwardian Oxford, 1911 or 1912. The drawing room is large but full of books and botany. It is the room of a professor developing indoor ivy, so some table legs and sofa arms are slightly green. MODOLIA and CONSTANCE (both well dressed young ladies about 20 years old) are sharing tea, while two eight year old GIRLS are playing with dolls.

MODOLIA:
May I refresh you, Constance?

CONSTANCE:
Oh, yes please. It is rather good tea.

MODOLIA:
It is.

CONSTANCE:
How are the twins?

MODOLIA:
Oh, still the same. It is such an unfortunate affliction, being born with one's face slightly out of focus.

They look over at Modolia's sisters as they play with their dolls. Their faces are indeed slightly blurry.

CONSTANCE:
You are so good for working with similarly afflicted children, Modolia.

MODOLIA:
It is my duty. They way people stare at poor Emily and Kate, I could not allow others to go through what they have gone through. Shocking.

CONSTANCE:
Indeed.

MODOLIA:
But Constance, you did not come to discuss Emily and Kate...?

CONSTANCE:
Oh no, quite right. Modolia, my sweet one, I am here to invite you on an adventure, an experience of liberation, of sensual elevation.
WHISPERS
...of moustaches.

MODOLIA:
Constance?

CONSTANCE:
Come, let us wander down the High...

2. EXT. DAY. OXFORD'S HIGH STREET

YOUNG MEN pass Modolia and Constance, all wearing different styles of moustache. Some also carry books, some are cycling, all look and behave like extras in a Merchant Ivory film, which is of course what they are...

CONSTANCE:
Look at them. They have the franchise, they have the positions, they have the power, my flower. But they also have moustaches.

MODOLIA:
You are quite right, of course. But what of it?

CONSTANCE:
This is the Twentieth Century! A woman should have anything a man has. [BEAT] Well, not absolutely everything -

MODOLIA:
Oh dear, hahahaha....

CONSTANCE:
But, oh, facial hair! Modolia, there is a growing movement - I must whisper this - that believes we should have our own moustaches.

MODOLIA:
But from where? How do we get them? Constance, I have so many questions - could we not start with trousers...?

CONSTANCE:
Meet me in Radcliffe Square at seven this evening, my dear, and you will begin your ascent. To equality!

MODOLIA:
Oh, to equality!

3. INT. EVENING. MODOLIA'S HALL.

Modolia is about to leave. She shouts to her FATHER who is in the study.

MODOLIA:
Father, I am off to meet Constance. I shall not be long.

FATHER:
Very well, Modolia. Do be back before nine.

MODOLIA:
Enjoy your ivy, father - and please wish the twins the sweetest of good nights.

FATHER:
Of course. Cheerio.

4. EXT. EVENING. RADCLIFFE SQUARE.

Six or seven DONS are dotted about the twilit square in full academic garb. There are a few well heeled LADIES slouching in groups. An odd scene.

CONSTANCE:
Well met, my fairy of the eve.

MODOLIA:
Is this where we get the moustaches?

CONSTANCE:
It is. Now -

A DON approaches them. He looks seedy and the girls move away swiftly.

DON:
Moustaches - handlebars, classics, twirlers...?

CONSTANCE:
No thank you. excuse us. We usually go to Sir Roderick Nage, Greats professor at Balliol. Let us take a look. Ah, there he is. Now act calmly my dear and I will do all the talking...

They approach SIR RODERICK NAGE.

SIR RODERICK:
Ah, Miss Hatcher, how good to see you. a burly nose tickler tonight, perhaps?

CONSTANCE:
SSSssssshhh, Sir Roderick, discretion is of the essence. A nose tickler for me indeed, and an Eton Fluffer for Miss Va- my friend here. It is her first time.

SIR RODERICK:
Her first time? Well I hope she will become as regular a customer as your pretty self. There - two guineas.

CONSTANCE:
Two guineas!? You'll take thirty shillings and think well of it!

SIR RODERICK:
Two pounds, my dear.

CONSTANCE:
Hmmph. very well.

SIR RODERICK:
Good. I hope to see you both again soon. Oh and tell that brother of yours that his paper on Homer really was first class.

Sir Roderick turns and leaves.

CONSTANCE:
Hmmph!

The same Don as before approaches them.

DON:
Mexican Banditos....

CONSTANCE:
Please leave us alone!

The Don watches them as they leave the square.

5. EXT. EVENING. ALLEY.

Constance already has her moustache on and is trying to fix Modolia's on her lip.

CONSTANCE:
Hold still, Modolia. I cannot put it on if you - There! How does it feel?

MODOLIA:
It. . . feels. . . wonderful! Let me see! Constance, this is simply wonderful!

Modolia admires her face in a small mirror Constance hands her.

CONSTANCE:
It is magnificent, is it not? . . . We are MOUSTACHIOED!!!

MODOLIA:
Ssssh! The whole of Oxford will hear you!

CONSTANCE:
What do I care? Let them see me, lip and all!

Two male students come down the alley. The girls giggle and run off.

6. INT. EVENING. MODOLIA'S HALL.

Modolia returns. Her upper lip is red and her demeanour is slightly messy. She calls into the study as she passes.

MODOLIA:
Good night, Father

FATHER:
Good night, Modolia.

7. INT. EVENING. MODOLIA'S BEDROOM.

Modolia throws herself straight onto the bed. She picks up a hand mirror and looks at her sore lip in it. She smiles as if she's discovered a happiness she never knew existed...

8. INT. MORNING. MODOLIA'S BEDROOM.

A maid is opening the curtains as Modolia slowly wakes up.

MAID:
Morning, Miss Modolia.

MODOLIA:
Good morning, Germaine. Goodness, what time is it?

MAID:
It is five after eleven, miss. Cook thought you might -

MODOLIA:
Five after eleven? I have to be out by half past! Help me dress, Germaine.
Germaine?

MAID:
Miss?

MODOLIA:
Does the reliability of mirrors bother you? They way they always reflect?

She feels her upper lip.

MAID:
Yes miss.

9. EXT. DAY. HIGH STREET.

Modolia runs down the street to where Constance is talking to a LAD.

LAD:
- and the deck chairs have to be rearranged every morning. It's a very important job, and they say the Titanic is the greatest ship in the world!

CONSTANCE:
Well, good luck, Jack, and do make sure you write from New York when you arrive.

The lad tips his cap to the young ladies and moves off.

LAD:
Miss. Miss.

CONSTANCE:
Good morning, my light of the world. how did you sleep?

MODOLIA:
Fine. Well, I overslept, Constance. How are you?

CONSTANCE:
Oh, rather excited about this afternoon. Come, let us meander.

The Don that pestered them last night watches them walk down the street.

10. EXT. DAY. THE RIVER.

CONSTANCE:
You did enjoy the moustaches, didn't you, Modolia?

MODOLIA:
I - I did.

CONSTANCE:
How did it feel?

MODOLIA:
Quite - quite wonderful!

CONSTANCE:
And, cara mia, you would want to try it once more?

MODOLIA:
I don't know. oh, Constance, isn't this wrong?

CONSTANCE:
Wrong? There was never a thing more right! As a modern woman you must grasp that which you want. And you do want to wear a moustache again, don't you? Don't you?

MODOLIA:
I - I. . .

CONSTANCE:
Look over there -

There is a group of PICNICKING LADIES all dressed up, with fans in front of their faces. . .

CONSTANCE:
Why is it that they flutter their fans?

MODOLIA:
Because it is a warm day?

CONSTANCE:
Is that what you think? Let us walk past them.

Constance and Modolia walk past the picnic. We see that all the ladies are wearing big moustaches. when they notice Constance and Modolia they giggle, but cover their moustaches even more.

CONSTANCE:
And it will be forever thus, unless we stand firm for ourselves.

MODOLIA:
Yes, I suppose it will.

CONSTANCE:
Meet me again tonight at 7 o'clock in Radcliffe Square. Oh, golden heart, we will have such a time!

Constance walks off. Modolia looks back at the ladies and sees the Don following her still. She makes her way home.

11. NIGHT. INT. MODOLIA'S HALL.

Father is seeing a STUDENT out.

FATHER:
And next week's essay is "Money does not grow on trees, but if it did, how much would a money tree cost? And could one buy it on credit?"

MODOLIA:
Father, I'm just going out.

FATHER:
Just a moment, Modolia. And mind the ivy there, Mr Postgate. Now, are you not going to join us for supper, daughter?

MODOLIA:
No, Father. I am to meet Constance.

FATHER:
Well, I suppose Cook will keep it warm. Don't be too late.

MODOLIA:
Oh no. Goodbye.

FATHER:
I say, mind the ivy....

As she leaves, Modolia trips over the indoor ivy which is growing around the furniture.

FATHER:
Oh, bother!

12. NIGHT. EXT. RADCLIFFE SQUARE.

The square is full of dealers and buyers. Modolia is approached by Sir Roderick.

SIR RODERICK:
Ah, Miss Vass. If you would like to follow me.

MODOLIA:
To where?

SIR RODERICK:
Oh, to my rooms. Miss Hatcher is already there. This way. . .

13. NIGHT. INT. SIR RODERICK'S ROOMS.

Constance is in a chair. She is languid, moustachioed. She seems spaced out and her speech is slurred.

CONSTANCE:
Modolia! My object of wonder! how are you? Heeheeheeheehee....

MODOLIA:
Is she alright, Sir Roderick?

SIR RODERICK:
Oh yes, she and her friends are quite fine.

MODOLIA:
Friends? I see noone else. . .

SIR RODERICK:
All in good time. Let me take your shawl.

CONSTANCE:
Get her a 'tache, Roddy! Put it on her! Oh no, first you've got to come with me, my dear. . .

Constance leads Modolia through a door into a larger, dark room, full of lounging young women all in moustaches of various types. The four from the picnic are her. Sir Roderick steps behind the two.

SIR RODERICK:
I and my colleagues are only satisfying a demand. You all want to wear moustaches, we supply them. The consequences are yours to bear.

CONSTANCE:
Come, Modolia, try this one! No, this one! Roddy, put this one on her!

Modolia and Constance try on a selection of moustaches. In Modolia's eyes we see her losing control of herself. Finally, Constance tries on a beard. This is too much for her and she collapses. Modolia shrieks and runs out of Sir Roderick's lodgings in a state of disshevelment, still wearing her last moustache.

14. NIGHT. EXT. OUTSIDE THE COLLEGE.

She runs into the arms of the mysterious Don.

DON:
Now now, young lady. In a rush? What's this? A full lip drooper!

MODOLIA:
You've got to help Constance!

DON:
Where is she?

MODOLIA:
Sir Roderick Nage's rooms. She's wearing a beard!

DON:
Good God!

The Don pulls out a whistle and loads of POLICEMEN appear and storm the college. Sir Roderick is arrested while trying to flush moustaches down the toilet. some girls try to flee, others are too out of it and even pull at the policemen's moustaches.

15. NIGHT. EXT. OUTSIDE THE COLLEGE.

A DOCTOR is tending to Constance, trying to remove her beard. He has "SICK" tattooed on one fist and "WELL" tattooed on the other.

MODOLIA:
Oh please let her be well! Oh, please Doctor!

DOCTOR:
She's gone, I'm afraid. The beard was just too much. . .

MODOLIA:
Oh Constance . . . !

DOCTOR:
Come along, let's get this moustache off you.

MODOLIA:
No! No!

Father is talking to the Don/Policeman.

FATHER:
A shocking scene, officer. And to think - Modolia involved in such a den of shame!

DON:
Doctor Vass, we've been keeping an eye on Nage for months. He and the rest of his academic cronies have been pushing false facial hair to these poor young ladies for too long.

FATHER:
Your police operation was a success?

DON:
Oh yes, sir. We got everything we wanted. But I must commiserate with you on your daughter's situation. a good lass led astray by a skewed ideal. they want equality - and who's to say they won't one day get it? - but false moustaches isn't the way. Still, she'll recover from tonight. Doctor Gington is a fine man.

FATHER:
I do hope so. I can hardly bear to look at her with . . . with. . . that on her face.

16. DAY. INT. MODOLIA'S HALL.

Modolia is in black. Father enters and pauses before speaking.

FATHER:
It is time to go, Modolia. How I wish this day hadn't come.

17. DAY. EXT. GRAVEYARD.

It is the funeral of Constance. The Don/Policeman is there, as is the Doctor. Modolia stands with her Father and the blurred faced twins. As the other mourners file away, Modolia remains. a wind picks up some early Autumn leaves behind her.

MODOLIA:
Don't worry, Constance, heart of my heart, I will remember you. This is our century, and I promise that I will continue your dreams.

She reaches down into her handbag, puts something onto the gravestone and then puts a moustache on her upper lip. As she cries a single tear, we pan up and see that the gravestone also now sports a moustache.

MODOLIA:
[WHISPERS]
To equality.

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