Joe Wiesenfeld - Anne of Green Gables: The Official Movie Adaptation

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

The official Movie Adaptation

By: Kevin Sullivan

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY: Davenport Press

Copyright 2013Sullivan Entertainment Inc.

Movie Production Stills 2013 Sullivan EntertainmentInc.

Anne of GreenGables: the official movie adaptation: based on the Kevin Sullivanfilm of Lucy Maud Montgomery's classic novel, screenplay by KevinSullivan, Joe Wiesenfeld / storybook adapted by Kevin Sullivan.

All rightsreserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any formor by electronic or mechanical means, including information storageand retrieval systems, without permission in writing from thepublisher, except for reviewers who may quote brief passages.

The wordmark AN NE OF GREENGABLES is an official mark of the Anne of Green Gables LicensingAuthority, Inc., used under licence.

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"Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I usedto think.

It's splendid to find out there are so manyof them in the world"

• Anne Shirley

"There she weaves by night and day, a magicweb with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say, a curse is onher if she stay to look down to Camelot"

ANNE read the lines deliriously. The wordsfloated like a delicious froth on the breeze that blew through thedark piney woods.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver

Little breezes dusk and shiver...

Lord Tennysons poem The Lady of Shallottwas her beloved escape from the grim reality of working for abackwoods family who knew little about refined things like poetryand romance. This particular book was very special. It had belongedto her dear mother, who had departed this world leaving Anne anorphan who had found her way into the hands of people who couldnthave cared less about her.

It was a bright November morning inMarysville, New Brunswick, as Anne struggled up the hill. The fullpail of milk banged against her side as she walked. Miss AnneShirley heard her name being bellowed from the porch of the Hammondhomestead. She was carrying a basket of eggs and milk and othergroceries from the local market to feed the eight Hammond children.She ignored Mrs. Hammonds repeated hollering because she had lostherself in the beautiful words, and had been transported to along-ago time, peopled with noble knights and damsels indistress.

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

To look down to Camelot...

In Annes imagination, she was no longer askinny, red-haired orphan, but a beautiful and mysterious greatLady, locked in a tower weaving a magical tapestry. Anne willedherself to be kept in thrall to that magical realm, but when anexasperated shriek shattered her dream, she realized that Mrs.Hammond could actually see her standing in the fir grove.

Anne! Anne Shirley! What in heavens nameare you doing standing there talking to yourself. Get in here thisminute! This minute I tell you before I whip you with a birchswitch. These twins need changin. Youre late with the vittles!And Mr. Hammond's been waitin well nigh an hour for you to bringhim his lunch!

The Lady of Shallot evaporated into thin air.Plain, skinny, thirteen-year-old Anne Shirley came to her sensesimmediately. Mrs. Hammond could be a nag, and her temper knew nobounds. Anne, now startled like a deer, had been caughtdaydreamingshe was in for it now!

Anne arrived back at the cabin at break-neckspeed, but Mrs. Hammond had worked herself into a fury. Dumping oneof her damp babies into Annes arms, she seized the precious bookof poetry and flung it inside the pot-bellied stove.

"I simply couldn't live here if I didn't haveany imagination"

Thatll teach you to remember youre here tolook after my babies, instead of porin over them fool books oyours, she snapped.

I do enjoy babies in moderation, Mrs.Hammond, replied Anne, fighting back tears at seeing her mothersmost precious possession go up in flames. But twins three times insuccession is too much. Besides, she added, throwing caution tothe wind, I simply couldnt live here if I didnt have anyimagination.

Mrs. Hammonds eyes narrowed.

Ill take none o your cheek, Anne Shirley.One more word and youll be out on your backside and back to theorphanage. Now get these babies changed before you take Mr. Hammondhis lunch. And be quick about it or hell give you a whippin youwont forget.

Anne dutifully went about her task. Mr.Hammond and his workers could be rough on a girl tooespeciallywhen they were hungry.

Anne truly meant to hurry as quickly as shecould with Mr. Hammonds lunch, but she just couldnt help noticingthe lovely bluebells along the road and the light twinkling on theriver. Then too there were heaps of buttercups in the open field.Anne flung herself across the pasture imagining she was flying likea meadowlark. It was as thrilling as poetry. It was her way ofkeeping from thinking about the mournful Lady of Shalott who was sotragic. I just love poetry that gives you that crinkly feeling upand down your back, she confided to a noble looking, crimsonjack-in-the pulpit flower.

As soon as she reached the Hammond sawmill,all thoughts of Knights and Camelot were driven from Annes mindagain. Anne watched aghast as she witnessed Mr. Hammond collapse tothe ground amid all of his workers.

He had suffered a heart attack. It seems thatin a fit of anger, he had pushed one of his men, intending tostrike him. His own heart had struck the first blow. There he lay,stretched out and still, the ultimate victim of his own legendaryrage. Anne was terrified that she alone had caused the calamity bybeing tardy yet again.

Late that night, after Anne had gently tuckedthe sundry and grieving Hammond children into bed, she spoke to herreflection in a dirty mirror hanging on the cabin wall. Katie,she whispered, If only I hadnt lost myself in the beauty of theday, the one beauty that is vouchsafed me, perhaps Mr. Hammondmight still be with us. However Katie, her imaginary friend, onlystared at her silently.

The distress resulting from Mr. Hammondsdeath seemed to blanket the whole house in silence. The only soundswere an occasional sob from the distraught Mrs. Hammond, and themurmuring of her cousin, Essie, who had come to help with theburial arrangements. Tiptoeing downstairs, Anne was halted inmid-step by a devastating comment from the intolerant Essie.

That home girl, she said, and though hervoice was soft, it cut Anne like a razor, shell have to go backwhere she came from Matilda.

Anne crept down the remaining stairs andtried to make her presence felt in the kitchen. Mrs. Hammond sat atthe table, staring blankly into space.

Essie stood behind her, soothing her.

Mrs. Hammond, faltered Anne. Mrs. Hammond,I blame myself entirely for poor Mr. Hammonds death. To have towait an extra hour for lunch is a terrible burden to place on anyman. I shall never overcome my grief. But please, please dont sendme back to the orphanage. I beg of you Mrs. Hammond it would be afate worse than death itself