Pieces of April script

I'm sleeping.

You're okay?

- Get up, get up! - No!

You try.

Come on, this is gonna be your big day.

We don't want to miss this opportunity.

- All right? - Who's coming today?

You know who's comin'.

- Bobby. Bobby! - We got to, we got to.

No! Bobby!

Watch out! No, no!

April, you got to hurry up.

Okay, I'll be right there.

April?

I'm coming.

Here I come.

Joy? Joy?

Honey?

Joy?

- Honey... - Dad!

Have you seen your mother? I can't find your mother.

No.

Where are you?

- Would you knock? - Where is she?

I don't know. Who?

Your mother.

Honey?

Mom?

- Mother? - Mommy?

Okay, everybody, let's move it!

- You need this? - Yeah, I think so.

Bobby.

Come on.

- Here. - Uh-uh. No.

Hot, hot, hot!

- It doesn't really matter anyway. - Yes, it does.

Bobby, they're probably not even gonna come.

Hi, Mom. How you feelin'?

- Great. - That's good.

- How'd I do? - You did great.

Thought you'd think so.

- Do you have your camera? - Absolutely.

- You sure? - Positively.

Better check.

- I know it's here somewhere. - What's taking so long?

I'm just wondering if it isn't completely selfish of her,

asking us to come all the way to New York.

Should Mom even be traveling?

Sweetie, if not now, when?

It's just... I offered to make the meal, but that would've been too easy.

Honestly, Daddy, what makes her think she can cook all of a sudden?

I don't remember her ever being in the kitchen.

And who got an "A" in Home Ec?

And you know how proud we are of that, honey.

- Could you zip me up, please? - Of course.

Okay, it's gotta be here somewhere.

- Honk the horn. - I'm sure they'll be right out.

- Honk the horn, please. - We'll wake the neighbors.

Screw the neighbors, honk the goddamn horn.

Mom, please!

Look, the zipper is not the problem.

Actually, it kind of is.

No, Dad, the zipper's not the problem.

April is the problem.

Okay, okay, here they come.

- Hey. How you feeling? - Great.

- Nauseous, dizzy? - I feel great.

- How'd you sleep? - I slept great.

The camera... it's not here.

Better hurry.

You know, Mom, all you have to say is,

"I don't feel up to it," and we'll all understand.

- What now? - Forgot my camera.

- Oh, Jesus. Where's your tie? - Do I have to wear a tie?

- You did not just ask me that. - No, sir.

You realize...

- this could very likely be the last... - Dad, your breath.

- No numbness or discomfort? - No.

- Headaches? - No.

- Nauseous, dizzy? - You asked that already.

All you have to say is, "I don't feel up to it."

Is that all I have to say?

Do you feel sweaty, clammy?

Are your hands cold, warm? Are your fingers tingly?

- Because all you have to say... - Beth, shut up.

Morning, honey. How are you feeling?

You can never have enough silverware.

Look at these plates.

Where did you get these?

Those are salt and pepper.

I know what they're for. Where did you get them?

From the store.

We had these when I was a kid.

The one time Joy let me hold them, she said,

"Be careful. They're worth more than you are."

That's terrible.

Next yea r, t hey were gohe

So, what happened?

A hammer I was holding fell on them.

Good.

How much were they?

It wasn't cheap.

How much did they cost?

They were 50 cents.

You got yourself a deal.

I'm sorry. I didn't know.

Hey, we've got a lot of cookin' to do.

At 375 degrees and fully stuffed,

a 15-pound turkey will take five hours to cook

if you figure 20 minutes a pound.

Leave an hour to cool.

- What are you saying? - We got time.

Mashed potatoes, gravy. Sweet potatoes...

cut up, melt some butter, sprinkle on brown sugar.

Green bean casserole made with green bean stuff,

another dish made with crushed crackers and oysters.

Sounds hard... isn't.

Just dot it with butter, and right before baking,

barely cover it with hot milk.

Cranberry sauce... open the can, pop it on a serving dish.

- How simple is that? - What else?

Waldorf salad made with apples, celery, nuts, grapes,

and the dressing mixed with mayonnaise

and thinned with milk or cream and sweetener.

Pumpkin pie... store-bought from the very, very expensive store.

Okay, watch your step.

N ce a hd easy

Don't even think about...

- Mom! - Beth, it's for me when I'm old,

so I can always remember this day.

N ce a hd easy

Almost there.

- There we are. - Hi, Grandma.

I'm Beth, your granddaughter.

Aren't you a love?

- Hi, I'm Timmy. - Timmy's your grandson.

Well, you don't say.

- I know you. - Hi, Mom. Did you eat?

Hot, Jim. Get whatever's hot.

Good morrhirhg. Welcome to Krispy Kreme

May I take yourorder?

I'll have a vanilla-covered cream-filled, please.

- Can I get... - And two glazed crullers...

Actually, I do want strawberry with the powder on top.

Do they have doughnuts?

Remember, everybody, April is cooking.

We'll need an extra dozen glazed.

What do you think about cloth napkins?

- Think they'd be better? - Paper is fine.

No, I'm worried that the paper will feel kind of papery.

Do we have to talk about this now?

I could pick them up while I'm out doin' that thing I gotta do.

- You're going out? - I gotta do that thing, you know.

I think you'll like why.

I want you to go out. I want you to go out now.

- But I wanna help. - This is how you'll help me.

You go and do your thing and...

- I'm fine. - Really?

Bobby, it's gonna be easier without you.

- I'm goin'. - Bye.

So, now tell me...

how could anyone not believe in God?

- There you go. - They don't deserve decorations.

Yeah, but you do.

No!

No, no, no!

Come on.

Bobby!

Yeah. This is Arhthorhy

I'm out If you have a buildirhg problem. Harhg orh irh

I'll be back tomorrow

Arhd. Oh. Yeah... have a rhice Tharhksgivirhg

We warht you to krhow that yourcall is importarht to us

Irh arh effort to serve you better. Yourestimated wait time is

48 mirhutes

Mom?

How's it going in there?

Good job.

Hello?

If you keep knocking like that, you are going to wake me up.

- That's the... - You don't want to wake me up.

If you want my opinion...

Nobody wa hts you r op h oh Nobody wa hts you r op h oh

- Stay out of it. - Did Dad even ask?

- I'm not talking to you! - You always do this.

You should take charge and turn this car around. This is...

- Mom. - Hey, you.

- Here, let me. - Beth, back.

We were worried, honey. Are you okay?

I'm good, honey. I'm great, I feel fine.

I'm the excited one now.

Really? Why is that?

Well, let's see.

- I have Fritos, Cheetos... - No, Joy...

- Oh, Timmy... Snowballs. - No, stop it!

- Mom, a Nutter Butter. - That's enough, stop it.

It's not right... not now,

not when April is hard at work making all your favorites.

Not when she called to check the ingredients of a certain recipe.

I'm nipping this in the bud right now.

I bet she called collect. I will never call collect.

Aren't you the most perfect thing ever?

Did someone say April?

Yes, Grandma, she's your other granddaughter.

I know. I thought she was dead.

- Honey, don't. That's wasteful. - Look, I'm gonna say this once.

What?

We're gonna have a very nice time.

- You don't actually believe that. - It's possible, I think, yes.

- Well, you're a better man than me. - That's funny. "Better man."

Don't get me wrong. I'm glad we're going.

This way, instead of April showing up with some new piercing

or some ugly new tattoo, and... God forbid... staying overnight,

this way, we get to show up,

experience the disaster that is her life, smile through it,

and before you know it, we're on our way home.

- We don't know it's a disaster. - I know. Believe me, I know.

- Miss me? - You bet.

April's doing a lot better.

She's had a couple of real jobs,

she's found a new place,

Eddie the drug dealer is history,

and... she's met this new guy.

Great.

This guy sounds promising.

- Is that so? - Oh, yeah, he does.

And why is that? Tell us, please, why?

Apparently, this guy Bobby...

reminds her of me.

Eugene, somebody's at the door.

Who is it?

Hi, I'm in 3C. I need some help.

Help?

- Hi. I have a problem. - Who is it?

It's the new girl in 3C. Says she's got a problem.

- What? - Problems, Eugene.

The girl's got problems.

She's white, she's got her youth,

her whole privileged life ahead of her.

I am looking forward to hearing about her problems.

That's the short version.

- Oh, my. - Goddamn!

If I told you the long version, you wouldn't have cried.

And she's how old?

She had me when she was my age, so she's 42.

- I'm 42. - You're 45.

I can't imagine.

The truth is, none of us know.

Eugene here could be chewin' on his supper

and choke to death on a turkey bone this very day.

We just don't know.

But to realize your time is almost up,

and you have one last chance to do the things you love,

and be with those you love...

Goddamn!

You poor thing. Your poor mother.

Yes. No.

You must have a special relationship.

We do, yes. We're very close.

More like sisters. She's like, my best...

You don't get along, do you?

No, not at all. Never have.

- Oh, dear. - Evette.

I know, baby, I know.

Look, sweetie, we have our own meal to make.

- I understand. - But, wait, don't move.

Tina's comin' with the boys about 2:00?

- That's right. - And Glen will be late, as always.

Do we even know if Rasheed is coming?

- I know what you're thinkin'. - 'Course you do.

You always know what I'm thinkin'.

Here's what.

We'll put off cooking ours until 10:30.

That'll get you started,

and then you'll have two hours plus to find another oven.

How's that sound?

- This yours? - Yo, I got a message for you.

- What? - Tyrone's lookin' for you.

- I don't know no Tyrone. - Yeah, well, he knows you.

This is a nice thing you're doing for her.

- Not really. - It is. It's a nice gesture.

- Isn't it nice, Eugene? - I have a question.

"Nice" writes letters, "nice" goes home to visit.

You mean you haven't been back?

- Hell, no. - Not since she got sick?

It's... she likes it better that way.

- I don't believe you. - Believe me.

- I'm the first pancake. - What do you mean?

She's the one you're supposed to throw out.

- Now I have a question. - What?

Did you stuff it?

Has the bird been stuffed?

- Yeah. - With what?

A... stalk of celery... I don't know.

Celery's good.

- Onion. - Onion's good.

Mostly it's just the mix from the box.

You used store-bought stuffing.

Yeah. Is that a bad thing?

No, it'll be fine.

What was I supposed to use?

I'm sure it's a great brand. A fine brand.

You don't use store-bought stuffing.

Please, Eugene, your first turkey.

Need I remind you of that half-cooked affair?

The meat all pink, no flavor whatsoever,

and the next year, your burnt the poor bird.

You remember that, right?

No, I don't remember.

That's why I'm here, baby, so you don't forget anything.

Yeah? Thanks a lot. Pass me them beans.

April, don't worry about it.

Honey, what are you doing? I don't need a map.

- I want to take an alternate route. - Dad knows the way.

Back roads, see things we've never seen.

This way, the day won't be a complete waste.

- I hope we're not late. - We don't want to be early.

I'm giving you a choice.

You can either let me study the map...

or you can rely on my uncanny sense of direction.

- Which will it be? - Uncanny sense of direction.

Okay...

Where are we?

Careful now. Don't let the heat out.

How's it look?

I... wouldn't know.

What's he making?

Tell her what you're making.

Nothing special this year.

No. Just sweet potato soup with buttered pecans,

herbed oyster stuffing, giblet gravy,

some lemon-rosemary green beans,

saut閑d red Swiss chard with garlic,

hickory nut ice cream,

and maple pumpkin pie.

- Wow. - Nothing special this year.

- Yeah, right. - How about you?

Turkey, gravy...

a Waldorf salad.

Waldorf salad. That sounds unusual.

It's made with different kinds of fruits and nuts.

The dressing's pretty much mayonnaise.

Then mashed potatoes, of course,

and cranberry sauce, which is easy.

Just open the can.

Oh, sweetie.

I like it from the can.

Nobody likes it from the can.

It was a squirrel, I think...

or a very small raccoon.

- Jim? - Yes, Joy?

Hop to.

Mom's lookin' for a spot.

We're sorry we didn't know you.

We hope it was quick, and...

That's fine. Beth, a song?

No.

I think Tim pretty much said it all.

Then what are we waiting for?

Okay, pour it in, sweetie.

That's it. Look at you. You're a natural.

Right.

While we're waiting for it to dissolve, you stir.

Yeah. You go, girl!

Stop it. It's nothing.

Have you ever done it before?

- No. - Then it's not nothing.

- Excuse me. I just wanna... - What's next?

Next, we let it simmer until it becomes a lovely texture.

- Please, could you just... - Then we let it cool off.

Ladies, please.

Honey, please just use your words and we'll move.

Don't worry about Eugene. He always gets a little fussy.

- Any luck finding another place? - I haven't even started.

- Probably the sooner... - Evette.

The sooner you find another oven, the better.

I'm coming, Eugene.

- Don't worry. Done. - Okay.

Hi. Eugene and Evette in 2B... do you know them?

They're helping me for the time being, and I was just wondering if...

See, my family's coming, and my mom, she's...

It's complicated.

Then the oven or the stove... I don't know what it's called... started...

Sorry.

The truth is, she's a rotten mother,

so I don't even know why you'd want to help me anyway.

It's funny. My mother was a mean woman, too. Nasty.

There wasn't a nice bone in her body.

She smoked non-stop, cheated at cards,

and she complained every day of her life.

- Sorry. - You know what?

There's nothing I wouldn't do for a chance to spend more time with her.

So you'll help me then?

Mi casa. Su casa

Help.

Yo, Latrell, man, this is Bobby. I'm at the spot.

Call me back.

I'm at 212-737-3858.

All right.

This is great. You don't know what this means.

- It's such a big help. - Good.

- By the way, I'm April in 3C. - Tish in 4A.

Thank you, Tish in 4A. Thank you, thank you.

My family thanks you.

Okay, last one.

There's our Christmas card. Come on, Mom.

- Without April? - Since when was she in the picture?

Wait. Wait!

I'm coming.

You can keep the mitts.

- Where's the strainer? - Good luck.

Thanks.

- Hi, it's just me. - Can I talk to you for a second?

- Sure. - Alone.

Yeah. Okay.

There's something I need you to know.

I never eat anything that has a face.

Don't worry, you won't be eating it. I'll just be using your oven.

But for me, that was once a living, breathing soul.

- I'm a vegetarian. I understand. - But I'm a vegan.

Even the smell of flesh cooking...

I don't think I can help you.

Latrell, man, this is Bobby. I'm at the spot.

Can anybody hear me?

Does anybody have a stove I can borrow?

- Please? - Try Wayne in 5D.

He's got a new stove.

Talk louder, lady.

Try Wayne in 5D. He's got a new stove!

Thank you.

Hey, babe.

I'm just callin' to see how everything is goin'.

If you don't need me, you don't have to pick up.

I'm just callirh' to make sure you're doirh' firhe

I love you

Okay

I need this.

- If I could borrow your... - They don't speak English.

I know that.

- If I could borrow... - You're wasting your time.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Are you Wayne?

Wayne with the new stove.

Technically, it's a self-cleaning convection oven.

It has an automatic meat thermometer,

audible preheat signal, dual bake element,

hot surface lights, roasting rack,

and my favorite...

the frameless glass oven door

with deluxe big-view window.

Wow. It's beautiful.

Yes, it is.

- I don't know how to ask this... - Be my guest.

- Really? - We'd be delighted.

Bernadette.

It's all right. She doesn't bite.

Latrell, where you at, man?

- Where am I? - Yeah, where you at?

So the big marh warhts to krhow where Latrell is

Hell, yeah, I wanna know where you at.

Right here.

Where you been, man? You're gonna make me late.

- Where you been? - I been standin' right here.

Do we know a Tyrone?

- Tyrell? - Tyrone.

Anyway, how far we got to go?

Here she is.

You gotta be kiddin' me.

- You said you worked in retail. - I didn't lie.

Help me out.

Quality men's clothes?

You told me you can get me a deal on quality men's clothes.

You'll get some quality men's clothes. Trust me.

Trust you. Come on, man.

- I had you all wrong, man. - You had me wrong.

'Cause I thought you was the type of brother

that ain't really need no fancy labels or no Armani Prada bullshit.

Get outta here, man.

Ninety percent of the people in the world

would love to have these clothes.

What I'm tryin' to tell you is, as long as it's useful,

as long as we can wear it,

as long as people that we love can wear it,

it's gonna be on that rack.

So, best get to lookin'.

Were I you, I'd start down there.

Were I you, if I don't find nothin', you better not be here.

Pull over, Jim. Pull over now, now!

- Are you woozy? - Do you feel sick?

- Do you feel tired? - Do you need some fresh air?

- Mom, you should probably... - I'm fine.

I'm fine. I just...

It's just... I keep waiting for a good time to tell you,

but there's really no good time.

I need everyone to listen.

I don't know how to say this.

We need to discuss how each of you... Oh, God...

It's okay, sweetie.

How each of you, in your own way,

is going to handle...

discarding food without letting our hostess know.

Oh, please. Joy, really.

That's not very funny.

Here's what I suggest...

Take a bite of whatever it is... let's say the green bean casserole.

Pretend to chew, cough, bring napkin to mouth,

spit food into napkin, excuse yourself.

Drop food in toilet.

Flush.

Honey, roll it tighter next time.

Sorry, Mom.

Won't you tell me why?

Tell me why.

The thing about Smack Daddy is...

- Who? - Smack Daddy.

Have I ever heard of Smack Daddy?

He's a black singer, Dad. You wouldn't know him.

Oh, no, I never heard of... James Brown or Barry White,

or Puffy the Dog.

- May I finish? - Please.

The thing about Smack Daddy is, you know with him,

it's no one-night stand, that it's forever.

Millions want him,

but it's as if he's only singin' to me... baby.

Age doesn't matter.

He doesn't care that I'm old and sick and falling apart.

He sees my soul. He's not fickle.

- He's there for me. - Like Dad?

Well, your father can't sing.

But Smack Daddy... man alive, is he y, which...

it does lead to this whole ual thing.

I mean, it...

does bring up some sort of nice memories.

- You mean with Dad, right? - Him, too.

Hello?

Hello?

- What? - Hello. It's you.

I was knocking on a lot of doors looking for you.

Yours was ajar.

Come in. How's it goin'?

No foreseeable problems.

I was about to check your turkey myself.

Then I thought, since it's yours,

maybe you'd prefer to do the checking.

I certainly could do it for you, and will, if you'd like.

Didn't want to presume...

That's fine, whatever.

It's a common misconception

that you can just stick a turkey in the oven.

Turkey needs to be tended to, he needs to be cared for lovingly.

One must pay close attention to poultry.

Sure.

So much can go wrong.

A turkey can burn in places, be overcooked, undercooked...

which is a health hazard... and what about basting?

Look, Wayne, I'll be up in a second, okay?

The second's up.

Just give me a minute.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

- Wait. Here I come. - I don't think so.

Bernadette has a small bladder, and if I don't get her outside...

- Can't I just pop my head in? - I'm afraid not.

- I'll be real quick. - No.

Do you know that good feeling that often comes from being helpful?

- Yes. - I'm not having that feeling here.

Look, I'm sorry. I didn't realize...

So I ask myself,

"Wayne, it's very clear what you're doing for her,

but what are you getting out of this?"

I think you need to take some time and think about that,

so that maybe later, you help me understand

what I'm getting from this exchange... if we can even call it an exchange.

Come along, Bernadette.

All crap, Latrell!

Keep lookin'!

These are pimp clothes, man!

- Money green. - No!

- Lapel surprise. - No!

- Velvet. - Hell, no! No!

How am I supposed to wear this?

Big man... look, I was savin' this little number for myself,

but I think it's more your size, try that.

What do you have there?

These are some photos I've taken of Mom, before and now.

- How nice. - I got a camera for my birthday.

Timmy is very talented.

- All of our children are talented. - Yes, Beth's talented, too.

Oh, how nice.

Maybe this isn't the best time.

- This was before. - So I could remember them always.

- Okay, that's enough. - I think so.

There's one more I want to show you.

Where's that one?

This is my favorite.

Look how the light and...

...how the arm is.

I think I prefer Beth's singing.

Wayne?

Hey, you ever hear the phrase...

"Beware the occasion that warrants a new suit"?

- Nope. - I'm tellin' you, beware.

You never been in love.

I never been in love, and I don't want to be in love, thank you.

It does things to you.

Like what?

You do things you thought you never could ever do.

- My mama, God rest her soul... - Lord, not another mama story!

- She was drivin'. - Your mama can't drive.

You didn't even know my mother, and I pity you for that.

You don't have to pity me. You the one in love.

Anyway, my mother was drivin', and I was just a baby.

The car flipped over, and I was trapped underneath the car.

You know what she did? She lifted up the car.

- Bullshit. - I'm tellin' you.

She lifted up the car, and she pulled me to safety.

She had this moment of unbelievable strength,

'cause she had love.

That's what love does.

- Bravo, bravo! - Encore, encore!

- Any requests? - That you stop.

I'm sorry. I'm terrible.

Who are you?

Don't start with that. You know who I am.

I know who you say you are,

but my daughter is kind and sweet and soft-spoken.

Not anymore.

Then I don't know you.

Oh, shit!

Joy, honey, are you all right?

I am so critical.

It's one of my worst faults,

and some of the reasons for this are obvious.

But why, I keep asking myself,

why am I so hard, for instance, on you, Beth,

when, for years, you've been the daughter of my dreams?

You have. You know you have.

Apart from your weight problems, we're practically the same person.

So why am I so hard on you?

Forget the fact that you're making the same mistakes I made,

and I wish you'd make your own.

But I think I'm hard on you because we've had so many good times.

And I think it's likely, as this gets worse, Timmy,

I'll be hard on you, too, because we've had so many good times.

So then, why am I hard on April when we didn't have any good times?

That's not true, though.

For days, I've been trying to think of nice April memories,

and I can only come up with one.

One vivid, beautiful memory. There's gotta be more.

- One can be a lot. - Okay, what was it?

It's not important.

Like hell, it's not. Tell us. What was it?

Okay, she had just turned three.

She was looking out the picture window on Locust Street,

and it was early in the morning, but it was already sunny.

She was just gazing out the window, and she turned back to me,

and she said, "Oh, Mother, don't you just love every day?"

That was me.

It was!

April was six when we lived on Locust Street.

Is that right?

Well, what about the crayon drawing

she did of the Mayflower... the one you had framed?

- That was me, too. - Cut it out!

I'm sorry, but it's important that we're accurate here.

- These are my memories, too. - Are you sure?

She's absolutely right, God freakin' dammit.

Just off the top of my head, I have one.

She was... I don't know how old,

but she was wearing a pink nightgown.

That was me.

- I'm kidding. - Funny. Very funny.

And I was coming back from a trip, or maybe not,

but I came into her room, and she was sleeping...

in her crib, and it was lovely.

- That's it? - Yes, that's it.

That's lovely.

No, it's not. Your happiest moment? She was asleep!

I didn't say it was my happiest moment,

it's just what came to mind.

Joy Momh?

Joy, watch...!

- What are you doing? - It's shitty, Jim.

All I can remember is the petulance,

the shoplifting, the fire in the kitchen.

Which was an accident.

Was it an accident the way she used to light matches

and throw them at Beth?

Or the time she used a lighter to trim Timmy's bangs?

- Joy, come on. - I mean, the drugs, the ingratitude!

She bit my nipples whenever I tried to breastfeed.

Sweetie, come on.

No wonder there's cancer. She's the cancer.

Get back in the...

Get back in the car!

Stop! Stop!

What's going on?

Mom needed to stretch her legs.

Joy, stop. Stop!

I tried, okay, but I can't go, I can't.

I can't... I can't have another bad experience with her.

- It won't be like that. - You don't know that.

It's the whole point of going.

We're making a memory.

You're not listening to me. I have too many memories!

A good memory. We're making something good.

What if it's not?

It will be. I promise.

I promise it will be beautiful.

How do you know?

Because I told her it had to be.

And if it's not?

Then I'll kill her.

Wayne!

Hi. I'd like to report a kidnapping.

I said I'd like to report a kidnapping.

This man who lives in my apartment building,

he's taken my turkey hostage,

and he's had it for over an hour now, and I can't...

My turkey.

Turkey. Turkey! Yes.

No, look, I know... that's why I called.

You have to understand. No, no, no!

Bad girl!

I want my turkey.

- So this is the thanks I get. - Give me my turkey.

I'm looking for a word.

Please give me my stupid ing turkey.

Ah, yes, that's better.

It's all yours.

- You don't have to thank me. - Don't worry.

- Thank Bernadette. - What?

Without her, we wouldn't have found a solution.

She prefers her meat lightly fried.

Would sweetie like it cut into little pieces?

You're a bad girl!

A very, very bad girl.

No, I'm not.

Welcome to our home.

Tyrone's lookin' for you.

How you been, Bobby?

- Eddie. - No, Eddie's dead.

- I'm sorry? - Yeah. I changed my name.

I'm Tyrone now.

- So you're Tyrone? - Yeah. I changed my name.

Everybody else is changin'. The whole world is changin'.

My who e wor d, wh ch was Apr

- I gotta get goin'. - Hey, man.

Even if I wanted to hurt you, and I kinda do,

I won't, so you can relax.

- Thank you. - It's her choice.

If she wants to be with you, that's fine.

It's just... there's something I...

You could tell her something for me?

What you want me to tell her?

Happy Thanksgiving.

Let's go.

'Cause...

Once, there were people here called "Indians."

Native Americans, whatever.

Then a boat came called the "Mayflower."

Landed on a big rock carrying people just like me.

The first year on their own was hard.

It was... really, really hard.

Let me start again.

This was long ago...

before we stole most of their land,

killed most of them, and moved the rest to reservations.

Before they lost their language and their customs.

Okay, forget what I just said.

Once there was this one day

where everybody seemed to know they needed each other.

This one day when...

they knew for certain that they couldn't do it alone.

Why did we stop?

Daddy thought...

168...

- 160... - 163.

I think they get... Daddy!

Dad, watch out!

- Who are they? - 154. It should be up here.

Oh, my God!

Oh, my.

This is the wrong street.

- No, I think we're here. - No, it can't be.

We have obviously...

We've obviously got the wrong... the wrong address.

Daddy, I think this is it.

Goddamn it, April.

I don't understand. How did you...?

What?

- It's carved dough. - Carved dough.

Thank you.

Lock your doors!

Hey, welcome! How you guys doin'?

Mom, don't! Mom!

I'm Bobby.

Aren't you April's family?

That hurts.

You must be her mother.

Well, um... I'm gonna go get her.

April, they're here!

Hey, babe, your family's here!

They're here!

- They're here? - Yeah.

Oh, my God, what happened to you?

- I'm good. - You need first aid.

No, no, look...

your family is downstairs.

Look at your lips and your eye.

I'm good. I'm fine.

They're downstairs waiting for you. You gotta go.

Are you sure you're okay?

Go.

- The cranberry sauce is ready. - They're here.

I don't understand. They were just down there.

Maybe they went and ran an errand.

Why would they come all this way?

Bobby, what are we gonna do with all the food?

This is so nice.

Something smells good.

I'm sure we'll be able to find something for everybody here.

- You okay? - I need to go to the bathroom.

- I'll... l'll... - Timmy can take me.

Don't be hard on yourself. We did the right thing.

It's much better this way.

Good afternoon. Happy Thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Let me see.

That's it! I'm leaving. You're on your own.

Let's see how you like that.

Mom!

Momh, a re you okay?

Excuse me.

French, Russian, bleu cheese, Thousand Island, vinaigrette,

Italian, we've got Ranch.

They're made on the premises.

We've got a great Black Forest cake. We also have great pies.

- Doesn't that sound good? - We have great pumpkin pie.

Do you have whipped cream with the pie?

Of course.

- This piece? - Yeah.

- Want me to get it? - No, I'll get it.

Joy is also dying of cancer, which is part of the reason April is making this heroic cooking effort in the first place. But "Pieces of April," flawed as it is, isn't one of those dreaded "cancer mom" movies. For one thing, as Joy's character is played by Clarkson, a canny, versatile actress who's finally having her moment in the spotlight, she's hardly a delicately deflating victim. You can believe that she was just barely lovable when she was well; her too-sharp observations and lacerating words cut and sting, and we flinch from them even as we sympathize with her for what she's facing.

"Pieces of April" isn't a movie about cancer, but a movie about community as family -- about the makeshift families that we come up with out of necessity when the ones we were born into don't quite fit the bill. And although "Pieces of April" doesn't quite stick together as a whole -- in some places it's conventional and a bit contrived, particularly the ending, which feels rushed and a little tough to buy -- Hedges peppers it with enough wonderful moments that you can't help warming up to it.

Holmes gives April just the right amount of trickster vulnerability: She's one of those adorable punk orphans with sooty, silent-movie-star eyes, a dark fringe of bangs and inky, chipped nail varnish, and you don't doubt for a minute that she put her family through hell. (Joy runs through the list of unforgivable sins April committed while living at home, and they include petulance, drug use, shoplifting, setting the kitchen on fire and, when she was a baby, biting Joy's nipples when she was trying to breast-feed.) But Holmes plays April as a once-spoiled kid who somehow senses that it's now time to grow up. She has a new boyfriend who's clearly devoted to her (Derek Luke, in a sweet, unself-conscious performance); and even though she never comes right out with it, we see that it troubles her that she's about to lose her mother. There's something pathetic and funny about the way she attempts to mash potatoes -- she doesn't realize you're supposed to cook them first, and she looks a bit bewildered as she goes at them with the masher, perplexed that she can't simply will them into shape.

The story concerns twenty-something April (Katie Holmes), the proverbial black sheep of the family, who moved out of the family house to a dismal Lower East Side apartment as soon as the opportunity arose. Now, learning that her domineering mother (Patricia Clarkson) is dying from cancer, and prodded by her new boyfriend, Bobby (Derek Luke), to re-open contact, April extends the olive branch and invites the family to Thanksgiving dinner at her place. So the entire Burns clan bundles into the car to make the trip into the city - Mom, Dad (Oliver Platt), pothead brother Timmy (John Gallagher Jr.), stuck-up sister Beth (Alison Pill), and senile Grandma (Alice Drummond). Meanwhile, as she's getting ready to put the turkey in the oven, April has an uninvited guest: Murphy, whose law declares that anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

Hedges could have taken this movie into darkly comedic territory, but, because he wants there to be an emotional payoff at the end, he opts for a lighter tone. This means that, while Murphy makes an appearance, he doesn't come charging out at full speed. Bad things routinely happen to these characters, but, when you consider the plight of the protagonist in After Hours, it becomes apparent that April gets off lightly. Hedges effectively treads the tightrope between comedy and drama without veering too far in either direction. He doesn't mind us laughing at the characters as long as we cry with them.

Pieces of April plays like the intersection of two road pictures. The first is almost conventional, with the Burns family making the trek through the woods and over the river to April's apartment. Along the way, they take breaks at rest stops so Mom can settle her churning stomach, and they pause for a roadkill funeral after they run over something. April's "road trip" is a little less usual - it takes her from apartment to apartment within her building as she searches for a working stove after hers gives up the ghost. She meets an affable African American couple who offer their services for a couple of hours (until they need the oven for their own bird), a vegan who can't stand the smell of burning flesh, a very weird single man with an unusually strong affection for his dog, and an elderly Chinese couple who don't speak English. Meanwhile, Bobby is out looking for some cool threads, while someone named Tyrone is trying to contact him. Except Bobby doesn't know any "Tyrone."

The movie highlights the versatility of Katie Holmes, who moves further away from the "girl next door" image she cultivated in Dawson's Creek. Holmes is a capable actress who's willing to take risks. And, like Jennifer Aniston in last year's The Good Girl, she has no problem accepting a pay cut to land a plum role. (The film, which was photographed using digital video, couldn't have been exceptionally expensive.) The supporting cast includes Derek Luke, who was last seen as Antwone Fisher, thespian Oliver Platt, and indie favorite Patricia Clarkson.

The ending of Pieces of April is conventional, but satisfying, and there's enough delightful weirdness up to the final moments that it's hard to fault Hedges for taking the easy way out. The digital video isn't the most polished medium in which to have made the movie (there are several occasions when bright lights wash out everything), but one could argue that it adds a certain grittiness to the proceedings (this comment often accompanies reviews of films made in DV). Perhaps because this is such a personal story, it's affecting and effective, and represents a solid first effort.

It's hard to imagine how this film could be schmaltzy: everyone in it is fairly prickly and hard to like, even when it makes you feel icky and wrong not to like them. Take April's mother, Joy, who's dying of something or other -- that much is obvious from the beginning of the film. You're not supposed to hate people's mothers who are dying, especially not when there's all the inconvenient stopping to vomit during the car drive from Bland Suburbia, New Jersey, or wherever April's parents and siblings are hauling themselves from. Patricia Clarkson (Miracle, Dogville) plays Mom, and even in a dumb made-for-TV Oh My God Mom's Dying! kind of movie, she'd all but dare you to feel sorry for her or go all goopy because she's dying. But Hedges's script here has her talking about how much she really doesn't even like April, her own daughter. That's pretty cold... but it's real, and the superb Clarkson of course keeps Joy from being a villain, keeps her just a sad, regretful woman.

On the other hand, April is a little bit of a bitch: she's ungrateful to the neighbors in the East Village tenement who come to her aid when she smacks up against a Thanksgiving-killer of a problem as she attempts to prepare dinner. Katie Holmes (Abandon, Phone Booth) is pretty darn near the cutest she's ever been in her ripped clothes and black-eye makeup, but more notably she gives her most subtle and audacious performance yet, daring us not to like her while also injecting just the right amount of desperateness into April to make us appreciate the sincerity behind what will probably be her last chance to patch things up with her mother. If she ever shows up...

There's a real spirit of Thanksgiving beyond the reconciliation April and her mother are (maybe) inching toward: not in April's ideas about cranberry sauce (people like the kind in the can) or potatoes (they should be mashed before they're cooked), but in the genuine melting pot of the building where she lives and how she's forced to meet all her neighbors -- the black guy who's a gourmet cook, the elderly Chinese couple who don't even speak English, the gay dude and his little dog -- in her search for help. It's like her own little exploratory adventure into the unknown, just like the Pilgrims had. She approaches it with a gusto born of necessity, one that probably means she'll have a good chance with her mother, too, if not today then definitely before it's too late.

Another reason to rejoice in Pieces of April is that most horrid-families-do-holiday-cheer movies deserve to be thrown away with the turkey carcass. Like National Lampoon's Thanksgiving Family Reunion, as crass and disgusting as a movie can get and still be aired on basic cable (this one premiered on TBS last year). When an appallingly shallow Los Angeles clan spends Thanksgiving with their dreadfully bawdy country relatives, can sheer vulgarity be far behind? Indeed, it cannot.

Why "anesthesiologist to the stars" Mitch Snider (Judge Reinhold: Santa Clause 2) would suggest a trip to Redneck, Idaho, is a mystery, unless he was hoping he'd be able to abandon his nightmare of a wife (Hallie Todd) there -- she had wondered who would cook and clean if they had Thanksgiving at home, which was Mitch's first suggestion, what with the maid off for the day and all. So they pile into the SUV to visit long-lost cousin Woodrow (Bryan Cranston: Seeing Other People, Saving Private Ryan) and his wife, Pauline (Penelope Ann Miller). For fun, the Sniders bring along "Uncle" Phil (Antony Holland) who isn't really anyone's uncle, but he does fart a lot, and don't think the flatulence of the elderly will not be deployed whenever there's a lag in the laughs, which is the entire running time of this trial.

The movie -- which makes one realize that there were, in fact, days when the "National Lampoon" brand was a mark of relative quality -- features such hilarities as vicious crotch-sniffing dogs, monster-truck chases, dot-com jokes from 1997, and hardly anything to do with Thanksgiving at all. But it does dare to ask the question: If you were in the shower in the house of your crude, stupid, most likely insane hillbilly cousin, and someone else's hands reached into the shower and started scrubbing your body, how long would it take you to notice?

The best Thanksgiving film is Woody Allen's "Hannah and Her Sisters," and the most entertaining are "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" and "What's Cooking?" The most depressing is "The Ice Storm," and the best single line is by Lou Jacobi in "Avalon": "You cut the turkey without me?" The spirit of the genre is summed up in "Home for the Holidays" when two family members are fighting on the lawn while the father hoses them down. Seeing the neighbors gawking across the street, the father snarls, "Go back to your own goddamn holidays!" Peter Hedges' "Pieces of April," this year's Thanksgiving movie, ends prematurely and has a side plot that's a distraction and a cheat, but it contains much good humor and works, anyway. It consists of 2.5 parallel stories. Story 1: The Burns family is driving from the suburbs to New York to have Thanksgiving dinner with a troublesome daughter. Story 2: The daughter, who has never cooked a Thanksgiving dinner before, is trying to cope despite a broken oven. Story 2.5: Her boyfriend disappears on a mission that is unnecessary, distracting and misleading.

Katie Holmes plays April Burns, the tattooed daughter who has been the family's despair. Derek Luke is her boyfriend, a sweet guy whose subplot hints he's up to no good, but that's just a cheap tease. Driving into the city are Jim Burns (Oliver Platt), wife Joy (Patricia Clarkson), daughter Beth (Alison Pill), son Timmy (John Gallagher Jr.), and Grandma Dottie (Alice Drummond), who is in that stage of movie-induced Alzheimer's that allows her to provide perfectly timed zingers when necessary.

The movie belongs to April and her mother. Joy is dying of breast cancer and this may be her final Thanksgiving, but she uses her mortality as a springboard for brave humor; at one point, she asks for silence to reflect on an approaching crisis. "We all have to give a lot thought..." she says, and they wait for a declaration about her impending death, "to how we are going to hide the food we don't eat." In April's apartment, all is chaos. She's gone through a punk/goth rebellion, but a yearning for family ritual runs deep, and her new boyfriend has helped her believe that she has a home she can invite her family to. The turkey is the problem. April's oven is broken, and that sends her on a quest through her building for someone with an oven she can borrow. Most of the neighbors are suspicious or hostile, but there's a Chinese family that illustrates the same message as "What's Cooking?": Thanksgiving is a reminder that all Americans, even Native Americans, are immigrants to this continent.

There's lots of humor in the car with the dysfunctional Burnses. Beth is outraged that they're visiting her sister; April was the apple of the family eye before she went wrong, and Beth feels threatened that she seems about to go right again. Young Timmy is a pothead whose supply of grass provides comfort to his dying mom, who after a few inhales likes the rapper on the radio. Jim the dad tries to put down rebellion and see the bright side: "This new guy Bobby sounds very promising. Apparently he reminds her of me." A measure of the family's goofiness comes when they stop to conduct a burial service for an animal they've run over. Their eulogy: "We're sorry we didn't know you. We hope it was quick." The wild card is Bobby, the boy friend, and here Hedges, the writer-director, half-heartedly tries to do something that doesn't work and is a little offensive. Bobby is middle-class, kind, soft-spoken and a good influence on April, but the screenplay sends him out of the apartment on an obscure mission and hints that it may involve something illegal or dangerous; his behavior and deliberately misleading dialogue plays on cliches about young black men.

And consider the scene where he first encounters April's family. He's bleeding and looks dangerous, and they think they're under attack. Bobby's behavior indicates an undigested idea of who the character is and how it would be funny to portray him. It's not mean-spirited so much as half-baked; Hedges has a confused idea that it would be funny to play on negative associations about young black men, to make it a joke when we find out how nice Bobby is. Not funny.

The movie ends rather abruptly, as if it ran out of money. Maybe it did; it was shot on digital for $200,000 in three weeks (and looks remarkably good, given those constraints). The closing montage of photographs looks uncannily like a way to represent a scene Hedges didn't have time to shoot (the 81-minute running time is another hint).

Despite its flaws, "Pieces of April" has a lot of joy and quirkiness; it's well-intentioned in its screwy way, with flashes of human insight, and actors who can take a moment and make it glow.

You forgive the lapses. You have the feeling that Hedges sees the same stuff that bothers you and it makes him squirm, too; a movie made this close to the line has no room for second thoughts.

Hedges is a novelist who wrote the screen adaptation for his own wonderful "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?" in 1993, and adapted Nick Hornby's "About a Boy" (2002) for the screen, winning an Oscar nomination in the process. He has a feeling for his characters and tries to find humor in true observation.

"Pieces of April" was a success at Sundance 2003, where Patricia Clarkson was honored for her acting. The movie is an enjoyable calling card that will set the stage, I suspect, for a new Hedges movie made with more resources and under less time pressure, and that is a movie am looking forward to seeing.