Publisher Description

Acclaimed playwright Kenneth Lonergan's You Can Count on Me is one of the most highly praised independent films of recent years, earning many of the major screenplay awards.This is the lovingly drawn story of a sister and brother's complicated, fragile, but somehow enduring bond. Sammy and Terry Prescott were orphaned as children. Sammy, now the single mother of a young son, has stayed in their hometown and is an officer at the local bank. Terry has become something of a drifter, surfacing only when he needs money. Sammy's own life has its complications- she puts off an old boyfriend's proposal and begins an affair with her new boss. Together in their family home, Terry's charming irresponsibility collides with Sammy's confusion over her own actions. What remains unspoken is what they've known since they were left with only each other sixteen years before.

Author Biography

Kenneth Lonergan's plays include This Is Our Youth and Lobby Hero. He wrote the original screenplay for Analyze This. You Can Count On Me marked his directorial debut. He lives in New York City.

Review

"Funny, touching, beautifully calibrated."–Newsweek

"[You Can Count on Me] has a novelistic quality that stands with the work of Ann Beattie or Richard Russo"–Denver Post

"Accomplished . . . perceptive writing . . . Kenneth Lonergan has created an artful tale . . . [that] creates inescapably real characters and allows them to be themselves."–Los Angeles Times

"A wry, beautifully observed story."–Roger Ebert & The Movies

"Superbly executed . . .Enormously touching. . . A deftly observed drama."–Variety

"Funny, moving, and immensely satisfying."–Chicago Tribune

"Perfectly pitched. . .gets its characters and their world exactly and indelibly right."–The New York Times

"An intensely moving family drama . . . [that] makes us feel we truly have entered its characters' lives."–The San Francisco Chronicle

"Exceptionally thoughtful and moving."–USA Today

Review Quote

"Funny, touching, beautifully calibrated." Newsweek "[ You Can Count on Me ] has a novelistic quality that stands with the work of Ann Beattie or Richard Russo" Denver Post "Accomplished . . . perceptive writing . . . Kenneth Lonergan has created an artful tale . . . [that] creates inescapably real characters and allows them to be themselves." Los Angeles Times "A wry, beautifully observed story." Roger Ebert & The Movies "Superbly executed . . .Enormously touching. . . A deftly observed drama." Variety "Funny, moving, and immensely satisfying." Chicago Tribune "Perfectly pitched. . .gets its characters and their world exactly and indelibly right." The New York Times "An intensely moving family drama . . . [that] makes us feel we truly have entered its characters' lives." The San Francisco Chronicle "Exceptionally thoughtful and moving." USA Today From the Trade Paperback edition.

Excerpt from Book

Chapter 1 fade in: int./ext. a car (moving). night. The shifting lights from the odd passing car play over the faces of mr. and mrs. prescott, a pleasant-looking couple in their late thirties, dressed up for a night out. Mr. Prescott drives them along a dark hilly two-lane highway. mrs. prescott Why do they always put braces on teenage girls at the exact moment when they''re the most self-conscious about their appearance? Pause. mr. prescott I don''t know. up ahead, near the top of the oncoming hill, a red pickup truck is poking its nose out of the short exit lane. mrs. prescott Tom- mr. prescott I see him . . . The pickup lurches into the road, with not nearly enough time to spare. mrs. prescottmr. prescott Tom!Jesus! Mr. Prescott swerves over the double solid white line and clears the truck as- Another pair of headlights from an oncoming truck rises up over the hill directly in front of them- mrs. prescott (Screams) Tom! Mr. Prescott''s foot stomps on the brake. We black out and there is the sound of a terrible crash. cut to: ext. the prescotts'' front door. night. The shadow of a big man looms up onto the front door. A big finger rings the bell. A moment. amy, a thirteen-year-old baby-sitter with braces, opens the door and looks up. In the b.g. we see two children, sammy (Samantha) and terry prescott, in their pajamas, lying on their stomachs in the living room, watching television. Sammy is eleven. Terry is eight. reverse: darryl, the sheriff, a portly fellow with glasses and a mustache, looks down at amy. sheriff Hello, Amy. amy (Puzzled) Hi, Darryl. sheriff (Thinking) Amy, would you please tell the kids you''ll be right back, and then shut the door and come outside to talk to us for a minute? amy OK. (To kids) Be right back, you guys! sammy You''re not supposed to go out, Amy. terry She''s going to smoke a cigarette. amy closes the door and looks expectantly up at Darryl. Darryl doesn''t know how to start. ext. church. day. credits begin over a blustery April day. The steeple of the little white church stands out against the sharp blue sky. int. town church. day. It''s a small church and a small congregation, but it''s full. There''s a choir of mostly senior citizens arrayed in the back. two closed caskets are laid out in front of the minister, a fiftyish woman with thick glasses and salt-and-pepper hair, who is giving a eulogy mos. Among the mourners in the second row sit Terry and Sammy, both red-eyed, and uncomfortable in their dress-up clothes. Their Aunt Ruth, a pinch-faced woman in her forties, sits next to them. Sammy and Terry are holding hands tightly. Terry wipes his eyes with his free hand. The Minister addresses her remarks to the children. Sammy is hanging on the Minister''s every word; Terry is shifting his eyes and his seat as if it will kill him to sit still another minute. dissolve to: ext. scottsville cemetery. sixteen years later. day. On the beautiful hill overlooking the beautiful windy green country, sammy, twenty-seven years old now, puts flowers on her parents'' graves with quick, practiced movements. She is a nice-looking young woman of a neat appearance, saved from primness by an elusive, pleasantly flustered quality. An unsuccessfully neat person. She is dressed in office clothes-white blouse, dark skirt, high heels, light raincoat over everything. She picks out a couple of weeds and then bows her head and closes her eyes. credits end. ext. scottsville-main street. day. Scottsville is a small town. Main Street. Run-down old stores next to a new bank, a couple of chain stores, a few restaurants of varying ambitions. Civil War statue. World War I statue. World War II statue. Residential streets wandering away from Main Street up and down hills. You know there''s a minimall somewhere nearby. A fair amount of activity during the daytime. sammy''s car pulls up across the street from where an eight-year-old boy in a secondhand baseball jacket and a school knapsack is waiting at the curb. This is her son, rudy. sammy calls out the car window. sammy Rudy, come on! I''m really late! Rudy hurries across the street and gets in the car, slinging his knapsack into the backseat. int. the car (moving). day. sammy How was school? rudy Stupid. sammy Why do you say that? rudy We''re supposed to write a story for English homework, but they didn''t tell us what it''s supposed to be about. sammy What do you mean? rudy I mean they didn''t tell us what it''s supposed to be about. They said do whatever you want. sammy So what''s wrong with that? rudy Nothing. I just think it''s unstructured. sammy (Smiles) Well, I''m sure you''ll be able to think of something. If you can''t, I''ll help you. int./ext. car/carol''s house. day. Sammy stops the car outside a heavily thicketed driveway (carol''s house), and rudy gets out. sammy Don''t forget your backpack. Rudy returns to take his knapsack out of the back. rudy It''s not a backpack, it''s a knapsack. sammy Don''t forget your knapsack. Rudy hoists his knapsack out of the back. sammy Give me a kiss. Rudy gives her a kiss and puts his arms around her and squeezes her neck. He withdraws, slams the door. As Sammy drives away, he slogs up the long twisting driveway. ext. merchants national trust-parking lot. day. Sammy gets out of her car, which is parked in one of the half dozen spaces in the little parking lot allocated for bank employees. She hurries toward the employees'' entrance, fixing her skirt as she goes. int. merchants national trust. day. Sammy hurries down the clean hallway in the back past mabel, a pleasant-faced fellow employee. mabel Guess who''s been asking for you? sammy Oh no, really? Mabel nods and passes by. sammy knocks on a big door that says "Manager" and has half the letters of the previous branch manager''s name taken off it. brian (Inside) Yeah, come in! Sammy swings open the door. brian everett, the new branch manager, is unpacking a box. Sammy is surprised to see he is in his early thirties and very good-looking in a boyish sort of way; he wears shirtsleeves and tie, and a wedding ring. sammy Mr. Everett? brian Yeah: Brian. sammy Brian. Hi. I''m Samantha Prescott-I''m the lending officer? brian Yeah, hi, how are you? Come on in. Sit down. Sammy comes into the office and sits. sammy I am so sorry I was late . . . brian Yeah, we missed you before . . . sammy I got held up. Believe me, it is not something I make a habit of . . . brian I''m sure it''s not. Actually-could you just, could you close that door for me? Thanks. Sammy gets up and closes the door. int. brian''s office. later. Sammy sits in front of Brian''s desk. Brian is behind the desk listening. sammy -so I always just run out at 3:15 to pick him up and then run him real quick over to the sitter''s house. Anyway, Larry never minded about it and I was just hoping it would be OK with you too . . . brian Well-Samantha-I realize that Scottsville is not exactly a major banking center . . . sammy No it''s not . . . brian No-I know it''s not. . . . But it''s kind of a personal challenge to me to see what we can do to bring local service up to the same kinds of standards we''d be trying to meet if we were the biggest branch in the state. And that means I don''t want anybody running out at 3:15 or 3:30, or whenever the bus happens to come in that day. Now is there anybody else who can pick your son up after school? Does your husband work in the area? Do you- sammy Oh-No-Rudy Sr. isn''t "on the scene." So to speak. brian Well, I can give you a couple of days to make some other arrangement, but . . . sammy Well-Brian? I understand what you''re saying, and I think it''s great. I do. Because there''s a lot of things around here that could use some attention. Believe me. But I''ve honestly been meeting that bus every day for four years now and it really does take just fifteen minutes, and if I take the time out of my lunch hour . . . brian I''d really prefer it if you would make some other arrangement. OK? sammy (Brightly) I''ll do my best . . . ! Brian kicks back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head. brian How old''s your son?

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