August Heat (1962) | UCLA student film

[music] [music] [music] Heat. Heat. [music] Oh. August the 20th, 1959. My name is James Clarence Withercroft. I have had what I believe to be the strangest experience of my life. I am English, 36 years old, and a bachelor. I am an artist by profession, presently commissioned by the London Outlook to do a series of drawings on American life. My only near relative, a sister, died three months ago in London after a long and painful illness. We were very close. In the days following the funeral, I myself often wished for death. Grief was a new experience to which I was finding it difficult to adjust, and I thought that perhaps a change of scene and travel in a new country might drive away the dark moods of depression which had made work impossible for me. It was on a night when life seemed most unbearable that I drew my first sketch in this country. It was the face of a man I had never seen before. It was a face that had awakened me from a dream. Its look of desperation and final despair had compelled me to draw it. Yet the sketch was so unlike anything I had done before that I took to carrying it with me for encouragement, for I was certain that it meant the beginning of a new life for me. That was 6 weeks ago. This morning, however, while driving through a lonely country road in search of material for my sketchbook and relief from the heat, which has been unbearable, my car suffered a mishap which began my strange adventure. Heat. Heat. I must have walked three or four miles and the only thing of which I was fully conscious was the awful heat. I was too exhausted to continue. Don't run away, little girl. I won't harm you. My car is out of order. I need some help. Please don't be afraid. Can you Can you tell me where I could find some water? The heat seemed to rise and fall suddenly in waves before my eyes. A man sat with his back toward me, busily engrossed in his work. I started toward him, relieved almost to the point of forgetting my fatigue. Howdy, mister. >> I could not believe my eyes. It was the man whose portrait I had drawn weeks before. >> I'm Sam Jenkins. What going to do for you? >> How do you do? >> What are you lost? Well, you sure look beat, mister. Here, you better come over there and sit out of the sun for a while. >> I'm sorry to intrude on you like this. >> My car seems to have overheated. I went looking for help. I didn't know it would be so far. >> Boy, this sure is a day for overheating, isn't it? You better take it easy for a while. How about a glass of nice cool well water? That'll fix you up fine. >> Yes, I think I would like that if it isn't too much trouble. >> No trouble at all. My wife will fetch some in a jiffy. Martha. Martha, I'm sorry. You just sit there and take it easy. I'll be right back with the water. Looks like a southwest wind coming up. Just make it hotter. >> The sketch lay in my pocket. I wanted to take it out and look at it then and there and prove to myself that I was mistaken. But in doing so, I felt that I would be giving in to what I was certain was only an absurd trick of my imagination brought on by heat and exhaustion. I dismissed it from my mind and surveyed the surroundings of my benefactor. There you are. That'll fix you up fine. It's enough to roast a man just going across the yard. >> Thank you. I feel much better now. Everything is hot and glary outside. This seems like an oasis in the wilderness. >> I don't know about the oasis, but it sure is hot. Hot as hell. Don't remember when it's been this bad. Enough driving a man out of his mind. You say your car overheated? >> Yes, about 3 miles back. Do you think you could help me? >> Oh, I could get you the water all right if that's all you need. But you can't go walking back no three miles with a bucket of water in this kind of weather. You probably wind up drinking it before you got there. You don't mind waiting for an hour or so? My hired man will be back from town and he could drive you back to your car with some water. >> That would be fine. I don't know how to thank you. Think nothing of it. I don't mind helping folks out, so long as they're good folks and don't take advantage of it. >> I don't know what I should have done if I hadn't found you. I was just about gone with exhaustion until I saw this girl. You >> say you saw a girl out there? >> Yes, a child. I think she pointed your house out to me. I was about ready to turn back. There wasn't a soul in sight until she appeared. Other strange child. At least I think she was a child. You must mean her. >> Yes. Is she your child? >> No, she's nobody's that I know of. Just hangs around. Doesn't talk much. Sometimes she comes in the house though when she's hungry or looking for a place to sleep. Doesn't seem to enjoy much of anything except listening some old cylinder records I got around the house. Tried talk to her at first, but she just run away. cut. So I just let her come and go without paying her no mind. I don't hardly notice her no more. She won't talk to you, so it's best you don't pay no mind. Would you care for some more water? >> No. No. Please don't trouble yourself. I'll just sit here and smoke my pipe if that's all right. >> Go right ahead. Don't mind if I work on this stone while we talk, do you? Don't have much more to do. And I've got to get it ready for the county exhibition. >> Not at all. Please don't let me impose upon your hospitality. I tried at first to persuade myself that I had seen him someplace before, that his face, unknown to me, had found a place in some out of the way corner of my memory. >> That's a beautiful piece of stone you've got there. >> Yes. Yes, it is. Someone like that cost you plenty, but you got to have the best if you want to enter in the county exhibition. Look, you want to see something make your blood boil? Look at this here. Ain't that enough to make your blood boil? Man, I used to hire around here did that. Dropped it off a truck. Young skinny guy looks something like you. But he was no damn good for nothing except ruining things that didn't belong to him. Got me a new hired man now. He was no damn good. There seems to be a bit of breeze coming up. >> That's a south wind. Just make it hotter there. That ought to do it. Take a look at that. Well, how do you like it? >> Where did you get that name? >> What name? >> The one on the tombstone. >> Oh, I don't know. It just came into my mind. Afraid to use a common name. Fear I'd offend somebody. Why? It happens to be my name. >> You're joking. >> I'm afraid I'm not. >> Talk about coincidences and the dates. I can only answer for the first one and that is correct. It had gone too far for mere coincidence. I did not have to look at the sketch. I knew now that I had not been mistaken. I had come over 3,000 miles to meet this man. Take a look at this. I did it weeks ago before I ever met you. I used to tell Martha that there was no such thing as ghosts. >> I know exactly how you feel. When I first saw you, I told myself the same thing. Say, "Look, things don't happen that nature ain't got reason for. Why don't we go in the house and have a drink? Ought to be cooler in there. And maybe we can figure this thing out before the truck gets back. All right. I must admit, I am a bit shaken by this thing. And a drink would do me good. I better get my tools. Those chisels will need sharpening. Hope you don't mind. >> I hardly heard him as he spoke. >> I suddenly thought of how far this was from home. For some unknown reason, I felt no fear, but rather a strange sense of resignation. >> My wife used to keep things pretty clean around here. But she run out on me two weeks ago. And since then, I ain't been good for much anything except working on those stones so as to keep my mind occupied. I'm sure everything will be all right. >> It is now evening. Mr. Jenkins driver has called to say he would be here within the hour. While I have been writing, the child whom I encountered this afternoon has entered the room and sits playing an old antique gramophone. She has not spoken a word and Mr. Jenkins ignores her completely. The evening seems to have afforded us little relief from the heat, and I shall be glad to be on the road again. Mr. Jenkins and I have both been unable to fathom an explanation of the strange occurrences of the day. Mr. Jenkins behavior has begun to alarm me somewhat. I ever seen. >> I cannot help feeling guilty for this reaction, for he has been more than gracious as a host. [laughter] >> [laughter] [laughter] >> Are we Would you >> like another drink? >> No, thank you. I still haven't finished my last [crying] one. You're right. >> Too hot to think. >> I didn't enjoy myself. >> It only makes it worse. On the train as we went through the tunnels in the dark and every stop. He seems an extremely friendly person and the very soul of hospitality, so that I cannot help but like him. Yet, there is something disturbing about his behavior. Something seems to be troubling him beyond the events of this afternoon. What it is, I have no way of knowing. I cannot help feeling uneasy. >> The girl's presence does not help matters any. She sits like some mute childlike sphinx, and I cannot help feeling she is part of the riddle in which Mr. Jenkins and myself have become involved. >> But I tell myself, I am making too much of this bizarre set of circumstances. Damn this heat. >> It's enough to make a man's brains feel like a kill. tickle tickle tickle to her. >> Get a little cooler at night. And I can tell you so did she. >> I suppose that's too much to hope for. >> Oh, on the train as we went through the tunnels in the dark. Every time I wed her, the passenger remarkle. >> Oh, I took her down to the seaside once just to let her see the sea. enjoy myself that day and tell you >> when I get back to London, I will take these notes with me. >> They will make an excellent topic of conversation over a cup of tea. >> Mr. Wingcraft, >> you didn't see my wife on the road today, did you? She was carrying a suitcase, they say. Burn her pretty dress. No, no. I'm afraid I saw no one except the girl. >> She ran out on me, you know. >> Didn't see her, huh? She's with a skinny guy. guy I told you about that broke that piece of marble I showed you. She's wearing a pretty yellow dress. No, Mr. Jenkins. I didn't see anyone. I'm good to go in the dark and every Maybe speech. The girl has gone. We are alone. The air seems charged with thunder. I am writing this at a shaky table. And Jenkins, who seems a handy man with his tools, is going to mend it as soon as he has finished, putting an edge on his chisel. It is after 11 now. I shall be gone in less than an hour, but the heat is stifling. It is enough to send a man mad. Chick shore.