In the quaint Australian country town of Warbol, a faded B-grade actress, Faith Farmer, dares to dream again. With a heart full of passion and a pocketful of savings, she revives the local cinema, The Rex, and invites the community to fall in love with the Golden Age of Hollywood.
The Money Pit, 1986
Starring Tom Hanks, Shelley Long.
Directed by Richard Benjamin
Chapter One
FOR SALE BY AUCTION—
SATURDAY 15 OCTOBER 1993
The Rex House
Grand old home with private 100-seat theater
Renovator’s delight. Original features.
Massive entry foyer, three reception rooms
Six bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen with two pantries
A the wrong end of Mullabong Street, the bleak and
crumbling mansion towered above its neighbors,
shimmering in the summer heat. Faith Farmer pushed her way
to the front of the gathered spectators, pulling a reluctant,
tutting Gerald by the hand. The last time she’d been so excited
and nervous was waiting to learn if she’d been nominated for an
Oscar, and frankly, that didn’t bear remembering. Today, she
had no intention of being overlooked or losing out to a second tier
player.
Sandwiched between Mick’s Meats and DIY Handyman, the
Rex House bore down on Warbol’s main street with a sad air of
grimy decay. Chipped mustard stucco revealed gaping
brickwork. Billposters plastered the massive doors. Shuttered
windows spoke of cobwebs and wood rot within.
Oblivious to the building’s deficiencies, Faith Farmer kept
her eyes locked on the auctioneer, who was standing in the
brass-studded oak doorway, thrusting his hand back and forth
with alarming rapidity.
“One hundred and fifty.” She threw her voice with an
actress’s command. Channeling her stage performance as the
formidable warrior, Boadicea, she’d scare the enemy into
retreat with her determination to win at all costs, no matter the
carnage she’d wreak.
Outside the partially boarded up building, a crowd of
curious onlookers gasped and shuffled.
“One hundred and sixty.” The next bid came from a man in
a smart suit, taking instructions via one of those wireless
telephones.
Faith peered over her rhinestone spectacles and lifted her
arm again. Gerald tried to prevent her, but she shook him off.
“One hundred and seventy.”
“Stop, Faith, you’re over your limit.” Gerald’s chins
wobbled.
She ignored her dear friend and his willful prudence. This
was her life’s dream come true … she was in love, and love
would find a way. A theater … it had a private theater. She
stared up at the derelict Victorian monstrosity’s gloomy facade
and pictured it aglow with lights, restored to its early
magnificence, a glittering reminder of post-Great War decadent
splendor. The Rex Cinema—no, The Rex Movie House—would
be a gem in a regional oasis devoid of cultural charm. A place for
tourists to flock and proud locals to proclaim as their own. After
all these years, she’d once again achieve fame and fortune. But
this time, on her terms.
“I have one hundred and seventy thousand,” boomed the
auctioneer. “Any advance?” He swung his gaze across the
crowd.
Faith clutched Gerald’s arm, crossed her fingers, and closed
her eyes. It would be a goldmine. People would come in droves,
if for no other reason than to meet her. People loved a brush
with fame. Her delusions about her on-screen success in the
fifties—after that unfortunate false start in the forties—had
inflated in proportion with her advancing years. In truth, she’d
featured in overblown tragedies with bad scripts.
“Two hundred,” from telephone man.
Faith’s eyes snapped open, and without stopping to think,
she shouted, “Two ten.”
“Two twenty.”
“Two twenty-one.” Faith’s pulse jack-knifed at her daring.
Gerald muttered under his breath. “You can’t afford it.”
“I shall sell my diamonds.” They’d only ever brought her bad
luck, she was sure of it. At times like these, diamonds truly were
a girl’s best friend. Her dream was tantalizingly close to coming
true, and she had no intention of foregoing this prospect of a
happier future. Not one spent moldering in a rented bungalow
with little entertainment other than memories. She clasped her
hands together and held her breath.
Telephone man shook his head.
The auctioneer slammed down his gavel. “Sold for two
hundred and twenty-one thousand dollars. Congratulations,
madam.”
Faith blinked twice in thrilled disbelief and pressed a hand
to her breast. Gerald eyed the rundown mansion’s crumbling
brickwork.
Faith saw fame. Gerald saw debts. They both sighed in
unison.
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