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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

recalled

How many times the word 'recalled' appears in the text?

Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

headquarters

How many times the word 'headquarters' appears in the text?

Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

reflection

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Donnie Brasco Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS DONNIE BRASCO by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco," by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 1 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: 2 INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush c arpet-- Fed eral blue . CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black--it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 CONTINUED: MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight--and I ' m not saying it's not tonight--it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Fuck you, Clarence. LEBOW Heyl I'm a Mormon 1 HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? . MARSHALL It's just that--one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along-- (CONTINUED) 3. 2 CONTINUED: (2) HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripp le the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land-- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New Y or k a tt it ud e-- JULES --thinks there's gonna be a Shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred... HOGUE Which one? JUL ES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight--at a fucking wedding-- not because he's one of us. but because he's one of t;hem. - (more) (CONTINUED) 4- 2 CONTINUED: (3) HOGUE (Cont'd) I've been on the job one fucking wee k. An d it' s my fuck ing decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK . on the wall reads *9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: 3 INT. NIGHT. BAR--WASHINGTON (1975) C L OS E ON -- JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1975. JULES ...And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner - but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses... LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. (CONTINUED) 5. 3 CONTINUED: LEBOW We've had our best guys on this s ince, wha t, Va lachi ? Twe nty years? MARSHALL W ho knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are l ike. They 're a ll ma rried to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. (CONTINUED) 6. 3 C O NT I NU E D: (2) LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it onl Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: 4 EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw... A PASS spirals up into the air...where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy1 Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls...Then sidesteps... JOE I ' m out of bounds. Stopl This-- look-- this is out of bounds 1 They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at th e f ront do or. SM ILE S at th e s cen e. Then FR OWN S a s s he r eal ize s-- CUT TOr 5 INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE W hat am I s upposed t o do? Terr y - tackles like her mother. (CONTINUED) 7. 5 CONTINUED: He gropes at her. She moves his hands off... MAGGIE Illegal holding. Hi s hands go back to groping. She smacks them. ... JOE Roughing the passer. MA GGIE I suppose I should be grateful tha t it's not blood stains, or pow der burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jerse y. MAGGIE You're kidding1 You got transferred? JOE Th e kids can see their grandparents. Plus it' s GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My Godl When did this all ha ppen? - J OE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MA GGIE I k now enough about the Bureau t ha t no thing happens th is q ui ckly , Joe. Especi ally if it i nv olve s a raise. JO E Remember that guy I me t at Qu antico, that su perv isor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe an d Hijackings, i n Ne w York. MAGGIE But this i s a desk job, right? (bea t) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. (CO NTINUED) 8. (2) 5 CONTINUED: JOE This is different. It' s u ndercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night ? JOE It's a good opportunit y. M AGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the we ekends? J 9E It's just six months. MAGGIE Y ou waited till this was all decided. You never asked me--you k new what I was going to say. What do you want from m e, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MA GGIE You finally got to headqu arter? and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I b uy a Brooks Brothers suit but th ere's al ways a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out ---it's li ke the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room w ith Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it' s just (gestures) this much off. ( CONTINUED) 9. 5 CONTINUED: ( 3) MA GGIE You 're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Ha r vard and it wouldn't matter-- I cannot win. To do something th at's never been done, that they sa y can't be done, that they ca n't do-- don't you see? That's th e only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smile s. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, ki sses him. M AGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Re member? 'Maggie, if you marry me... JOE (unison) ...you're in for a big ad venture.' They kiss again. And ki ss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him. CUT TO: MONTAGE . . --Present day. The CLOCK a t FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI: BERADA (V.O.) 'To Director: Surveillance and inf ormant contacts to date have been negative...' --Jo e is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s , a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar. BE RADA (V.O.) '. ..regarding being able to pe netrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cos a Nostra...' --Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH1--his photo for a driver's license. Now he's DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out: (CO NTINUED) 10. (4) 5 CONTINUED: D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O BERADA (V.O.) ...UC A Joseph D . Piston utilizing the name 'Donnie Brasco'. . . --An FBI COMPUTER prints out a "yellow sheet" of his prior arrests fo r b urgl ary -- " a.k .a. DON TH E J EWE LER "... --In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe. . . Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR...Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT. . . BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation... Apartment.... $491.60 Furniture..... 90.30 Utilities..... 35.00 Rental car.... 220.00 Spending money 800.00 BERADA (V.O.) '...This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences...' FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Carmelo's drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, twoTOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON...DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool--CLOSER to the Tough Guys...On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the game...On the board again, as the pieces move closer...DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer...And another...On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them...belongs to Donnie. --Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights. . . Gets on the phone... STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie's wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the "hello phone" at the FBI office in New Yorfc. BURSEY (to phone) Hello? CROSSCUTTING Donnie at a PAY PHONE. (CONTINUED) 1. 1 (5) 5 CONTINUED: DONNIE (O.C.) Is this Bursey? Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES... BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976... BACK TO PRESENT DAY --Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo's...In the Rainbow Room. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA reported no significant contacts. . . FLASH BACK --Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . n o significant contacts... --Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card. Inside it reads, "MISS YOU, LOVE,"--and NO SIGNATURE. --A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport. In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS...Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck... BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent 'Eau My Sin' perfume... --Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello's...On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER...Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA was introduced to Giuliano Gr eca , a. k.a . J ill y.. . --Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES. . . DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end's 20. BURSEY (V.O.) ...UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches. . . (CONTINUED) 12. 5 CONTINUED: (6) He hands them to...Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton. Peels off bills to Donnie. BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette... FLASH BACK --Donnie sits in Hippopotamus...Casa Bella...An after hours joint...The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER...Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment... BURSEY (V.O.) . . . UCA reported no significant contacts. . . BACK TO PRESENT --Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER... BERADA (V.O.) ,New York office requests an extension of six months due to... FLASH BACK --Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them. BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time. DONNIE Same budget? BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don't see any movement, but--do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this. DONNIE Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get these bastards. BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard. Donnie READS from the file. DONNIE (frustrated) ' . . . n o significant contacts...' ' (CONTINUED) 13. 5 CONTINUED: (7) BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ' B ' . They saw some of the surveillance pictures... DONNIE What? BERADA They want you to shave the mo ust ache . . DONNIE I ' m undercover 1 BERADA You're still in the FBI. That's the rules. CUT TO: 6 INT. DAY. CASA BELLA WI NTE R--fo g o n t he win dows . D ISC O p lay s on th e j uke box . Dr ink ing DEMITASSE in the late afternoon: BENJAMIN "LEFTY" RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him: DOMINIC "SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sle epy as a l ion after a big mea l. Don't f uck with the lion. NICHOLAS "NICKY" SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool. JOHN -BOOBIE" CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody's fool. Supered below: CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976. LEFTY You can't say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac. NICKY It's the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders. LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad. (CONTINUED) 1. 4 6 CONTINUED: SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky? LEFTY I ain't mad at him. I'm mad at his stupidity. AT THE BAR A man sits, unfolds a newspape r. The ba rtender lo oks up--it' s Donnie. DONNIE Coffee. B A C K O N --T A B L E LEFTY A in't no c ompar ison. Cadi llac got more acceleration, more power, more-- better handling, better looking, more legroom for yo ur legs , m ore po wer -- BOOBIE You said that. LEFTY Said what? BOOBIE More power. LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said. NICKY I' 11 tell you one thing--the Lincoln is longer. LEFTY Longer what? BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin' about? Longer wheelbase? NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It's a longer car. LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don't make no fucking sense sometimes. (CONTINUED) 15. (2) 6 CONT INUED: NICKY You got two cars. One's longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first. LEFTY Ain't the question all things being equal. One's a Cadillac and one's a Lincoln. NICKY The one's longer gets there first. That's scientific fact. (to Sonny) What's better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac? LEFTY Why're you asking him? NICKY I ' m asking him. LEFTY Why don't you ask me? NICKY I asked you already. LEFTY That's right. And I told you there's no comparison. SONNY what the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them. NICKY Fugged aboudit. Mercedes? That's a Jewish car. They didn't get it enough from the Germans in the war-- now they gotta be robbed by them. JU DY app roac hes --th e W AIT RESS , e arl y 2 0s. NEW to th e j ob. Son ny takes her hand, KISSES it. SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table? LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky. (CONTINUED) 16, (3) 6 CONTINUED: LEFTY Who's that? NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around. LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes? NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly. LEFTY He's a jewel guy? He knows jewels? NICKY What--you got a thing to lay off? LEFTY Ain't the question, I got a thing. I ' m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off? NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off? SONNY WITH JUDY as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand. SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliateli'. (kiss) JUDY We're out of sfogliatelli. SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back. She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek. JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right? SONNY What makes you think we're wiseguys? (CONTINUED) 17. (4) 6 CONTINUED: JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything? They all look at each other. NICKY We could be cops. LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee. CUT TO: 7 EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX . CUT TO: 8 INT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie sips his coffee at the bar/ reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED--Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him. LEFTY You Don the Jeweler? Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING LEFTY That's a beauty, eh? That's some beautiful thing. Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty. DONNIE Give it to your wife. LEFTY . How'm I gonna give it to my wife? I ain't married. DONNIE You got a girlfriend? , (CONTINUED) 18. 8 CONTINUED: LEFTY Yeah. Louise. He returns the diamond to Lefty. DONNIE Marry her. LEFTY Are you for real? I'm asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end's eight thousand. DONNIE I ' m saying give it to somebody don't know any better. It's a fugazy. LEFTY How can you say it's a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds. DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky. LEFTY (angry) I ' m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend--do you know who you're talking to? The Bartender, SCARED--he knows what Lefty's capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER. BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer. LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children--my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the Clock. In all the Five Boroughs I'm known, fuggedaboudit--I'm known all over the world. You ask around--ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street. DONNIE I'm sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay? Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at i- FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over. (CONTINUED) 19. C ON T IN U ED : (2) 8 BARTENDER On the arm. LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass. CUT TO: 9 EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA Donnie exhales out his tension--unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block. Takes a last look back inside at Lefty. CUT TO: 10 INT. LATER. JEWELER A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond. JEWELER It's a fake. LEFTY This's a fake? JEWELER Nothing is what it seems. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. LEFTY Because that's what I'm thinking. I thought it was a fake, (beat) It's a good fake, though, ain't it. JEWELER It's a very good fake. LEFTY Tha t's w hat I'm s aying . I thought it was a fake. That's what I thought. Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it. CUT TO: 11 EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY--SUBURBS Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back. (CONTINUED) 20. 11 CONTINUED: SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter? MAGGIE Don't ask Daddy those questions. SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter? TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny? KERRY You're such a snot, Terry. MAGGIE (to Terry) He'll try his best. TERRY (to Kerry) Don't look at me. I think it's great he's never home. SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy's job is. MAGGIE What'd you tell her? SHERRY None of her beeswax. TERRY Just tell her he's a salesman on the r oad a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does? MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do y ou underst and me? Your father is an outstanding individual. TERRY Jes us . L ig ht en up . T ha t' s n ot the point. KERRY Shut up, Terry. CUT TO: 21. 12 EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie's PARENTS. Maggie clijmbs out, turns. MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe. CUT TO: 13 INT. DAY. ACERG, INC. A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke ci gar ett es. The PA Y P HON E ri ngs . J ill y p icks it up . CUT TO: 14 INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tap e rec order s. VO ICE- ACTIV ATED-- it cl icks on, UNSPO OLS.. . JILLY (O.C.) Hello? CUT TO: 15 INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar. LEFTY He's okay? PHONE (O.C.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain't a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself. RACK FOCUS to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him. FLASH CUT TO: 16 INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS Hogue listens o n headpho nes. LEFTY (O.C.) Where's he from? PHONE (O.C.) ' '. Cali for nia . H e's a j ewe l g uy. (CONTINUED) 22. 16 CONTINUED: LEFTY (O.C.) Where California? L.A.? PHONE (O.C.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He's a jewel guy. THE CLOCK reads "10:25*. LEFTY (O.C.) Jilly--he's a stand-up guy, Jilly? PHONE (O.C.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn't say I fucked him. Hogue hits FAST FORWARD...The tape SQUEALS. . . MATCH SOUND FLASH CUT TO: 17 EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval. LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection. DONNIE What happened with that fugazy? LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di'n't Jilly school you? The smoke is thick now...Donnie powers down his window. DONNIE School me in what? LEFTY Donnie/ put your window up, Donnie. I ' m gonna catch a draft. Donnie powers his window back up. (CONTINUED) 23. 17 CONTINUED: LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non- wiseguy don't even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh? DONNIE Yeah. I got it. LEFTY You don't raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don't mess with his wome.n---wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mout h shut--don't put business on the street. DONNIE Follow the rules. A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over/ HONKS the horn. LEFTY CocksuckerJ Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are w e? We're like anima ls. He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab... LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. wiseguy runs a tab, you pick u p the tab . wiseguy is always right-- even if he's wrong he's r ight. All the way u p the l ine. Conne cted guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss. DONNIE Like the Army. LEFTY What? DONNIE I said it's like the Army. Chain of command. \ LEFTY Ain't nothing like the Army. The Army, it's some guy you don't know sends you to whack out some other guy you don't know. The Army's a jerkoff outfit. (CONTINUED) 24. (2) 17 CON TINUED: DONNIE I mean the same principle. LEFTY Ain't the question, Donnie. You see, that's why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl? DONNIE Yeah. In California. LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California. The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again...And Lefty BLOWS... LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker. DONNIE Which cocksucker? LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking--The cabl That one! Do nn ie -- Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab...Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT. Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN. A RED LIGHT The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac... IN THE TRUNK Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab. THE CABBIE A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he-sees Lefty approach in his side- view mirror. LEFTY What's fucking wrong with you? Hah ? The re's no fu ckin g etiquette of the road with you? The Cabbie flips a "FUCK YOU" signal with his middle finger...Rolls up his window. LEFTY . , Fuck wh o? Fuc k m e? (CONTINUED) 25. (3) 17 CONTINUED: DONNIE OUT of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty... INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags... SMASH 1 as the Cabbie's window CAVES IN...Lefty with the JACK. . . SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider's web of shattered glass. DONNIE APPROACHES Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block. THE CABBIE hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car. DONNIE -, Left, c'mon. En ough. Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car. DRIVER Fuck youl DONNIE Hey, fuck youl The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab's ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off. ON--T HE ACCE LERATO R as the Cab bie SLAMS his foot down. The light tur ns RED. Th e cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic...The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away. WATCHING HIM Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette. LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the r ules of t he road. T hey give the 'fuck you' sign to a man in the . street. . . DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that? (CONTINUED) 26 17 CO NTI NUE D: (4) LEFTY Fucking sand

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

lobby

How many times the word 'lobby' appears in the text?

Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

knocks

How many times the word 'knocks' appears in the text?

Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

reception

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

uneasiness;--something

How many times the word 'uneasiness;--something' appears in the text?

Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

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Double Indemnity Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "DOUBLE INDEMNITY" Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler Based on the novel "Double Indemnity In Three Of A Kind" by James M. Cain CHARACTERS WALTER NEFF PHYLLIS DIETRICHSON BARTON KEYES LOLA DIETRICHSON MR. DIETRICHSON NINO ZACHETTI MR. NORTON MR. JACKSON SAM GORLOPIS SEQUENCE "A" FADE IN: A-1 LOS ANGELES - A DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION It is night, about two o'clock, very light traffic. At the left and in the immediate foreground a semaphore traffic signal stands at GO. Approaching it at about thirty miles per hour is a Dodge 1938 coupe. It is driven erratically and weaving a little, but not out of control. When the car is about forty feet away, the signal changes to STOP. Car makes no attempt to stop but comes on through. A-2 A LIGHT NEWSPAPER TRUCK is crossing the intersection at right angles. It swerves and skids to avoid the Dodge, which goes on as though nothing had happened. The truck stops with a panicky screech of tires. There is a large sign on the truck: "READ THE LOS ANGELES TIMES". The truck driver's infuriated face stares after the coupe. A-3 THE COUPE continues along the street, still weaving, then slows down and pulls over towards the curb in front of a tall office building. A-4 THE COUPE stops. The headlights are turned off. For a second nothing happens, then the car door opens slowly. A man eases himself out onto the sidewalk and stands a moment leaning on the open door to support himself. He's a tall man, about thirty- five years old. From the way he moves there seems to be something wrong with his left shoulder. He straightens up and painfully lowers his left hand into his jacket pocket. He leans into the car. He brings out a light-weight overcoat and drapes it across his shoulders. He shuts the car door and walks toward the building. A-5 ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING Above the closed, double-plate glass doors is lettered: "PACIFIC BUILDING". To the left of entrance there is a drugstore, closed, dark except for a faint light in the back. The man comes stiffly up to the doors. (CAMERA HAS MOVED UP WITH HIM). He tries the doors. They are locked. He knocks on the glass. Inside, over his shoulder, the lobby of the building is visible: a side entrance to the drugstore on the left, in the rear a barber shop and cigar and magazine stand closed up for the night, and to the right two elevators. One elevator is open and its dome light falls across the dark lobby. The man knocks again. The night watchman sticks his head out of the elevator and looks toward entrance. He comes out with a newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. He finishes the sandwich on the way to the doors, looks out and recognizes the man outside, unlocks the door and pulls it open. NIGHT WATCHMAN Hello there, Mr. Neff. Neff walks in past him without answering. A-6 INT. LOBBY Neff is walking towards elevator. Night watchman looks after him, relocks door, follows to elevator. Neff enters elevator. A-7 ELEVATOR Neff stands leaning against wall. He is pale and haggard with pain, but deadpans as night watchman joins him. NIGHT WATCHMAN Working pretty late aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF (Tight-lipped) Late enough. NIGHT WATCHMAN You look kind of all in at that. NEFF I'm fine. Let's ride. Night watchman pulls lever, doors close and elevator rises. NIGHT WATCHMAN How's the insurance business, Mr. Neff? NEFF Okay. NIGHT WATCHMAN They wouldn't ever sell me any. They say I've got something loose in my heart. I say it's rheumatism. NEFF (Scarcely listening) Uh-huh. Night watchman looks around at him, turns away again and the elevator stops. NIGHT WATCHMAN (Surly) Twelve. The door opens. Across a small dark reception room a pair of frosted glass doors are lettered: PACIFIC ALL-RISK INSURANCE COMPANY - FOUNDED 1906 - MAIN OFFICE. There is a little light beyond the glass doors. Neff straightens up and walks heavily out of the elevator, across reception room to doors. He pushes them open. The night watchman stares after him morosely, works lever, elevator doors start to close. A-8 TWELFTH FLOOR INSURANCE OFFICE (Note for set-designer: Our Insurance Company occupies the entire eleventh and twelfth floors of the building. On the twelfth floor are the executive offices and claims and sales departments. These all open off a balcony which runs all the way around. From the balcony you see the eleventh floor below: one enormous room filled with desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, business machines, etc.) Neff comes through the double entrance doors from the reception room. The twelfth floor is dark. Some light shines up from the eleventh floor. Neff takes a few steps then holds on to the balcony railing and looks down. A-9 THE ELEVENTH FLOOR FROM ABOVE - NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW Two colored women are cleaning the offices. One is dry-mopping the floor, the other is moving chairs back into position, etc. A colored man is emptying waste baskets into a big square box. He shuffles a little dance step as he moves, and hums a little tune. A-10 NEFF Moves away from the railing with a faint smile on his face, and walks past two or three offices (CAMERA WITH HIM) towards a glass door with number twenty-seven on it and three names: HENRY B. ANDERSON, WALTER NEFF, LOUIS L. SCHWARTZ. Neff opens the door. A-11 INT. NEFF'S OFFICE - DARK Three desks, filing cabinets, one typewriter on stand, one dictaphone on fixed stand against wall with rack of records underneath, telephones on all three desks. Water cooler with inverted bottle and paper cup holder beside it. Two windows facing toward front of building. Venetian blinds. No curtains. Waste basket full, ash trays not emptied. The office has not been cleaned. Neff enters, switches on desk lamp. He looks across at dicta phone, goes heavily to it and lifts off the fabric cover. He leans down hard on the dictaphone stand as if feeling faint. He turns away from dictaphone, takes a few uncertain steps and falls heavily into a swivel chair. His head goes far back, his eyes close, cold sweat shows on his face. For a moment he stays like this, exhausted, then his eyes open slowly and look down at his left shoulder. His good hand flips the overcoat back, he unbuttons his jacket, loosens his tie and shirt. This was quite an effort. He rests for a second, breathing hard. With the help of his good hand he edges his left elbow up on the arm-rest of the chair, supports it there and then pulls his jacket wide. A heavy patch of dark blood shows on his shirt. He pushes his chair along the floor towards the water cooler, using his feet and his right hand against the desk, takes out a handkerchief, presses with his hand against the spring faucet of the cooler, soaks the handkerchief in water and tucks it, dripping wet, against the wound inside his shirt. Next, he gets a handful of water and splashes it on his face. The water runs down his chin and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose. He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on the cylinder. He begins to speak: NEFF Office memorandum, Walter Neff to Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes: I suppose you'll call this a confession when you hear it. I don't like the word confession. I just want to set you right about one thing you couldn't see, because it was smack up against your nose. You think you're such a hot potato as a claims manager, such a wolf on a phoney claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes, but let's take a look at this Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double Indemnity. You were pretty good in there for a while, all right. You said it wasn't an accident. Check. You said it wasn't suicide. Check. You said it was murder. Check and double check. You thought you had it cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper, with pink ribbons around it. It was perfect, except that it wasn't, because you made a mistake, just one tiny little mistake. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy, if you know what I mean. Want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars -- (He glances down at his wounded shoulder) Until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money -- and a woman -- and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it? He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk. He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again. NEFF (His voice is now quiet and contained) It began last May. About the end of May, it was. I had to run out to Glendale to deliver a policy on some dairy trucks. On the way back I remembered this auto renewal on Los Feliz. So I decided to run over there. It was one of those Calif. Spanish houses everyone was nuts about 10 or 15 years ago. This one must have cost somebody about 30,000 bucks -- that is, if he ever finished paying for it. As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO: A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front porch and rings the bell. NEFF'S VOICE It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle... A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid, about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door. NEFF Mr. Dietrichson in? MAID Who wants to see him? NEFF The name is Neff. Walter Neff. MAID If you're selling something -- NEFF Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like to talk to, and it's not magazine subscriptions. He pushes past her into the house. A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to one side, living room on the other side visible through a wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture, decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period. Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door open. MAID Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in. NEFF How soon do you expect him? MAID He'll be home when he gets here, if that's any help to you. At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs. VOICE What is it, Nettie? Who is it? Neff looks up. A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW) Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees. She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle a gold anklet. MAID'S VOICE It's for Mr. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS (Looking down at Neff) I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it? A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING Neff looks up, takes his hat off. NEFF How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk. A-17 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Pacific all-what? A-18 NEFF NEFF Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company. It's about some renewals on the automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've been trying to contact your husband for the past two weeks. He's never at his office. A-19 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS Is there anything I can do? A-20 NEFF NEFF The insurance ran out on the fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your getting a smashed fender or something while you're not fully covered. A-21 PHYLLIS She glances over her towel costume. PHYLLIS (With a little smile) Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr. Neff. I've just been taking a sun bath. A-22 NEFF NEFF No pigeons around, I hope... About those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson -- I hate to take up your time -- A-23 PHYLLIS PHYLLIS That's all right. If you can wait till I put something on, I'll be right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff into the living room. She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a wrapper.] A-24 ENTRANCE HALL Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid while still looking up. NEFF Where would the living room be? MAID In there, but they keep the liquor locked up. NEFF That's okay. I always carry my own keys. He goes through the archway. Maid goes off the other way. A-25 LIVING ROOM Neff comes into the room and throws his briefcase on the plush davenport and tosses his hat on top of it. He looks around the room, then moves over to a baby grand piano with a sleazy Spanish shawl dangling down one side and two cabinet photographs standing in a staggered position on top. Neff glances them over: Mr. Dietrichson, age about fifty-one, a big, blocky man with glasses and a Rotarian look about him; Lola Dietrichson, age nineteen, wearing a filmy party dress and a yearning look in her pretty eyes. Neff walks away from the piano and takes a few steps back and forth across the rug. His eyes fall on a wrinkled corner. He carefully straightens it out with his foot. His back is to the archway as he hears high heels clicking on the staircase. He turns and looks through the arch. NEFF'S VOICE The living room was still stuffy from last night's cigars. The windows were closed and the sunshine coming in through the Venetian blinds showed up the dust in the air. The furniture was kind of corny and old-fashioned, but it had a comfortable look, as if people really sat in it. On the piano, in couple of fancy frames, were Mr. Dietrichson and Lola, his daughter by his first wife They had a bowl of those little red goldfish on the table behind the davenport, but, to tell you the truth, Keyes, I wasn't a whole lot interested in goldfish right then, nor in auto renewals, nor in Mr. Dietrichson and his daughter Lola. I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us. A-26 STAIRCASE (FROM NEFF'S POINT OF VIEW) Phyllis Dietrichson is coming downstairs. First we see her feet, with pom-pom slippers and the gold anklet on her left ankle. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLOWLY as she descends, until we see all of her. She is wearing a pale blue summer dress. PHYLLIS' VOICE I wasn't long, was I? NEFF'S VOICE Not at all, Mrs. Dietrichson. CAMERA PULLS BACK WITH HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM. PHYLLIS I hope I've got my face on straight. NEFF It's perfect for my money. PHYLLIS (Crossing to the mirror over the fireplace) Won't you sit down, Mr. -- Neff is the name, isn't it? NEFF With two f's, like in Philadelphia. If you know the story. PHYLLIS What story? NEFF The Philadelphia story. What are we talking about? PHYLLIS (She works with her lipstick) About the insurance. My husband never tells me anything. NEFF It's on your two cars, the La Salle and the Plymouth. He crosses to the davenport to get the policies from his briefcase. She turns away from the mirror and sits in a big chair with her legs drawn up sideways, the anklet now clearly visible. NEFF We've been handling this insurance for three years for Mr. Dietrichson... (His eyes have caught the anklet) That's a honey of an anklet you're wearing, Mrs. Dietrichson. Phyllis smiles faintly and covers the anklet with her dress. NEFF We'd hate to see the policies lapse. Of course, we give him thirty days. That's all we're allowed to give. PHYLLIS I guess he's been too busy down at Long Beach in the oil fields. NEFF Could I catch him home some evening for a few minutes? PHYLLIS I suppose so. But he's never home much before eight. NEFF That would be fine with me. PHYLLIS You're not connected with the Automobile Club, are you? NEFF No, the All-Risk, Mrs. Dietrichson. Why? PHYLLIS Somebody from the Automobile Club has been trying to get him. Do they have a better rate? NEFF If your husband's a member. PHYLLIS No, he isn't. Phyllis rises and walks up and down, paying less and less attention. NEFF Well, he'd have to join the club and pay a membership fee to start with. The Automobile Club is fine. I never knock the other fellow's merchandise, Mrs. Dietrichson, but I can do just as well for you. I have a very attractive policy here. It wouldn't take me two minutes to put it in front of your husband. He consults the policies he is holding. NEFF For instance, we're writing a new kind of fifty percent retention feature in the collision coverage. Phyllis stops in her walk. PHYLLIS You're a smart insurance man, aren't you, Mr. Neff? NEFF I've had eleven years of it. PHYLLIS Doing pretty well? NEFF It's a living. PHYLLIS You handle just automobile insurance, or all kinds? She sits down again, in the same position as before. NEFF All kinds. Fire, earthquake, theft, public liability, group insurance, industrial stuff and so on right down the line. PHYLLIS Accident insurance? NEFF Accident insurance? Sure, Mrs. Dietrichson. His eyes fall on the anklet again. NEFF I wish you'd tell me what's engraved on that anklet. PHYLLIS Just my name. NEFF As for instance? PHYLLIS Phyllis. NEFF Phyllis. I think I like that. PHYLLIS But you're not sure? NEFF I'd have to drive it around the block a couple of times. PHYLLIS (Standing up again) Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about eight-thirty. He'll be in then. NEFF Who? PHYLLIS My husband. You were anxious to talk to him weren't you? NEFF Sure, only I'm getting over it a little. If you know what I mean. PHYLLIS There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour. NEFF How fast was I going, officer? PHYLLIS I'd say about ninety. NEFF Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS Suppose I let you off with a warning this time. NEFF Suppose it doesn't take. PHYLLIS Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles. NEFF Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder. NEFF That tears it. Neff takes his hat and briefcase. NEFF Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then, Mrs. Dietrichson. PHYLLIS That's what I suggested. They both move toward the archway. A-27 HALLWAY - PHYLLIS AND NEFF GOING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE DOOR NEFF Will you be here, too? PHYLLIS I guess so. I usually am. NEFF Same chair, same perfume, same anklet? PHYLLIS (Opening the door) I wonder if I know what you mean. NEFF I wonder if you wonder. He walks out. A-28 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - (DAY) Shooting past Neff's parked car towards the entrance door, which is just closing. Neff comes towards the car, swinging his briefcase. He opens the car door and looks back with a confident smile. NEFF'S VOICE (Over scene) She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are... A-29 ENTRANCE DOOR, DIETRICHSON HOME In the upper panel the peep window opens and Phyllis looks out after Neff. NEFF'S VOICE falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn't know then was that I wasn't playing her. She was playing me -- with a deck of marked cards -- and the stakes weren't any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite. I went back to the office that afternoon to see if I had any mail. It was the same afternoon you had that Sam Gorlopis on the carpet, that truck driver from Inglewood, remember, Keyes? A-30 NEFF He sits in his car, presses the starter button, looking back towards the little window in the entrance door. A-31 ENTRANCE DOOR The peep window is quickly closed from inside. A-32 STREET Neff makes a U-turn and drives back down the block. DISSOLVE TO: A-33 LONG SHOT - INSURANCE OFFICE - TWELFTH FLOOR - (DAY) - CAMERA HIGH Activity on the eleventh floor below. Typewriters working, adding machines, filing clerks, secretaries, and so forth. Neff, wearing his hat and carrying his briefcase, enters from the vestibule. He walks towards his office. He passes a few salesmen, etc. There is an exchange of greetings. Just as he reaches his office a secretary comes out. She stops. SECRETARY Oh, Mr. Neff, Mr. Keyes wants to see you. He's been yelling for you all afternoon. NEFF Is he sore, or just frothing at the mouth a little? Here, park these for me, sweetheart. He hands her his hat and briefcase and continues right on, CAMERA WITH HIM, to a door lettered: BARTON KEYES - CLAIMS MANAGER Keyes' voice is heard inside, plenty loud. Neff grins as he opens the door and goes in. A-34 KEYES: OFFICE - (DAY) A minor executive office, not too tidy: large desk across one corner, good carpet, several chairs, filing cabinet against one wall, a dictaphone on the corner of the desk. Keyes is sitting behind the desk with his coat off but his hat on. A cigar is clamped in his mouth, ashes falling like snow down his vest, a gold chair and elk's tooth across it. On the other side of the desk sits Sam Gorlopis. He is a big, dumb bruiser, six feet three inches tall -- a dirty work shirt and corduroy pants, rough, untidy hair, broad face, small piggish eyes. He holds a sweat-soaked hat on his knee with a hairy hand. He is chewing gum rapidly. As Neff opens the door, Keyes is giving it to Gorlopis. KEYES Wise up, Gorlopis. You're not kidding anybody with that line of bull. You're in a jam and you know it. GORLOPIS Sez you. All I want is my money. KEYES Sez you. All you're gonna get is the cops. He sees Neff standing inside the door. KEYES Come in, Walter. This is Sam Gorlopis from Inglewood. NEFF Sure, I know Mr. Gorlopis. Wrote a policy on his truck. How are you, Mr. Gorlopis? GORLOPIS I ain't so good. My truck burned down. He looks cautiously sideways at Keyes. KEYES Yeah, he just planted his big foot on the starter and the whole thing blazed up in his face. GORLOPIS Yes, sir. KEYES And didn't even singe his eyebrows. GORLOPIS No sir. Look, mister. I got twenty- six hundred bucks tied up in that truck. I'm insured with this company and I want my money. KEYES You got a wife, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Sure I got a wife. KEYES You got kids? GORLOPIS Two kids. KEYES What you got for dinner tonight? GORLOPIS We got meat loaf. KEYES How do you make your meat loaf, Gorlopis? GORLOPIS Veal and pork and bread and garlic. Greek style. KEYES How much garlic? GORLOPIS Lotsa garlic, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Okay, Gorlopis. Now listen here. Let's say you just came up here to tell me how to make meat loaf. That's all, understand? Because if you came up here to claim on that truck, I'd have to turn you over to the law, Gorlopis, and they'd put you in jail. No wife. No kids -- GORLOPIS What for? KEYES (Yelling) And no meat loaf, Gorlopis! GORLOPIS I didn't do nothin'. KEYES No? Look, Gorlopis. Every month hundreds of claims come to this desk. Some of them are phonies, and I know which ones. How do I know, Gorlopis? (He speaks as if to a child) Because my little man tells me. GORLOPIS What little man? KEYES The little man in here. He pounds the pit of his stomach. KEYES Every time one of those phonies comes along he ties knots in my stomach. And yours was one of them, Gorlopis. That's how I knew your claim was crooked. So what did I do? I sent a tow car out to your garage this afternoon and they jacked up that burned-out truck of yours. And what did they find, Gorlopis? They found what was left of a pile of shavings. GORLOPIS What shavings? KEYES The ones you soaked with kerosene and dropped a match on. Gorlopis cringes under the impact. GORLOPIS Look, Mr. Keyes, I'm just a poor guy. Maybe I made a mistake. KEYES That's one way of putting it. GORLOPIS I ain't feelin' so good, Mr. Keyes. KEYES Sign this and you'll feel fine. He puts a blank form in front of him and points. KEYES Right there. It's a waiver on your claim. Gorlopis hesitates, then signs laboriously. KEYES Now you're an honest man again. GORLOPIS But I ain't got no more truck. KEYES Goodbye, Gorlopis. GORLOPIS (Still bewildered) Goodbye, Mr. Keyes. He stands up and goes slowly to the door and turns there. GORLOPIS Twenty-six hundred bucks. That's a lot of dough where I live. KEYES What's the matter, Gorlopis? Don't you know how to open the door? Just put your hand on the knob, turn it to the right, pull it toward you -- GORLOPIS (Doing just as Keyes says) Like this, Mr. Keyes? KEYES That's the boy. Now the same thing from the outside. GORLOPIS (Stupefied) Thank you, Mr. Keyes. He goes out, closing the door after him. Keyes takes his cigar stub from his mouth and turns it slowly in the flame of a lighted match. He turns to Neff. KEYES What kind of an outfit is this anyway? Are we an insurance company, or a bunch of dimwitted amateurs, writing a policy on a mugg like that? NEFF Wait a minute, Keyes. I don't rate this beef. I clipped a note to that Gorlopis application to have him thoroughly investigated before we accepted the risk. KEYES I know you did, Walter. I'm not beefing at you. It's the company. The way they do things. The way they don't do things. The way they'll write anything just to get it down on the sales sheet. And I'm the guy that has to sit here up to my neck in phony claims so they won't throw more money out of the window than they take in at the door. NEFF (Grinning) Okay, turn the record over and let's hear the other side. KEYES I get darn sick of picking up after a gang of fast-talking salesmen dumb enough to sell life insurance to a guy that sleeps in the same bed with four rattlesnakes. I've had twenty- six years of that, Walter, and I -- NEFF And you loved every minute of it, Keyes. You love it, only you worry about it too much, you and your little man. You're so darn conscientious you're driving yourself crazy. You wouldn't even say today is Tuesday without you looked at the calendar, and then you would check if it was this year's or last year's calendar, and then you would find out what company printed the calendar, then find out if their calendar checks with the World Almanac's calendar. KEYES That's enough from

glass

How many times the word 'glass' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

fermant

How many times the word 'fermant' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

half

How many times the word 'half' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

pit

How many times the word 'pit' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

feet

How many times the word 'feet' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

dort

How many times the word 'dort' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

darla

How many times the word 'darla' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

oive

How many times the word 'oive' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

oh

How many times the word 'oh' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

needle

How many times the word 'needle' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

wow

How many times the word 'wow' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

bang

How many times the word 'bang' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

chocolate

How many times the word 'chocolate' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

dope

How many times the word 'dope' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

committed

How many times the word 'committed' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

shoots

How many times the word 'shoots' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

ravi

How many times the word 'ravi' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

court

How many times the word 'court' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

rear

How many times the word 'rear' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

kissing

How many times the word 'kissing' appears in the text?

ERIC No. ELLY You gotta go now, I bet. ERIC I have to go. Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits. INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer: GRANGE Top Dollar? BOUNCE Never heard of him. GRANGE Funboy? BOUNCER Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it. INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife. ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK. flipping through the file. Smoking. ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face. As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash. A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht. ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM ANNABELLA Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit. ALBRECHT I knew that. Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light. CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin. It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments... ALBRECHT Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign. Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven. With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make- up, like the blood. ANNABELLA Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again? UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo. ALBRECHT Could be. ANNABELLA You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know. PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow. PUSH IN on ALbrecht. ALBRECHT Well, hello there...chocolate, ANNABELLA Don't thank me. ALBRECHT Thanks, babe. INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry. ERIC It's a Raymond Chandler evening And the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened ... TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC Impish. Clown killer. ERIC (CONT'D) ... yet. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT Grange at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard. EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above. DARLA Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it. CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE As the plunger depresses. ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire. DARLA It's a big fucking bird... She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side. FUNBOY It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie... NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung. ERIC Here Funboy. Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high. FUNBOY Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. DARLA Fun -- look at that guy... FUNBOY It's just the dope, don't worry DARLA Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me! FUNBOY Not me. Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused. FUNBOY (CONT'D) Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako. Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause. ERIC Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang. Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot. FUNBOY You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself. In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart. FUNBOY (CONT'D) BANG! He shoots, he scores! Then his expression drags a little bit. ANGLE - ERIC Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest. ERIC Bull's eye. Good shot. ANGLE - DARLA who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands. ERIC Stay. Eric twists her arm. CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM. where we may clearly see the needle tracks. UP ANGLE - ERIC ERIC Morphine is bad for you. He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps. ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING FUNBOY How the hell did you do that? ERIC Magic. Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar. FUNBOY Either die or do a solo. Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing. ERIC Neither. FUNBOY Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself. Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly. FUNBOY I hate trespassers! (whack!) I hate prowlers! (whack!) I hate peeping toms! (whack!) And right now I hate you! ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it. FUNBOY Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left. In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed. FUNBOY Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd! ERIC Does it hurt? FUNBOY Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?! Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted. ERIC I have some pain killer right here. And he fills the syringe all the way. ANGLE ON FUNBOY as he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror. FUNBOY No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it -- ! ERIC Your pain ends now. And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse. Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes. The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat. SKULL COWBOY Howdy (beat) You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog. TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC SKULL COWBOY Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we? ERIC Go away. SKULL COWBOY You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going. ERIC Shut up. SKULL COWBOY Maybe I was wrong about you. The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head. Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer. ERIC Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you. She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there. ERIC Go. Now. Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy. Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy. INT. THE PIT - NIGHT As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit. BOUNCER Hey, g'night, Darla. (to Grange) That there is Darla. GRANGE Funboy? Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door. INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees: GRANGE POV - FUNBOY Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart. RESUME GRANGE Eyes darting, drawn to -- GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy. RESUME GRANGE whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on -- ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out into the night. ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we -- CUT TO: INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route. EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace. NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair. ERIC Freeze. Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun. ALBRECHT Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man! Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) I told you cops don't say "freeze". He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried. ERIC I saw it, too. Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file. ERIC (CONT'D) Walk with me. As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk. ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET ALBRECHT You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend -- ERIC I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us? ALBRECHT You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital. They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look. ALBRECHT (CONT'D) Hey, you asked, man. (beat) She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up. (beat; regret) I saw it and couldn't do jack for her. Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes. TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash. NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror. ALBRECHT You okay, man? I mean, what just happened. ERIC The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her. Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette. ALBRECHT You gotta understand -- I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died. Eric lowers his head, penitent. ERIC My name. ALBRECHT (fizzles) I'm sorry as hell, man. ERIC Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change... TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it. ERIC Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night. ALBRECHT I should be trying to stop you. Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette. ERIC Thank you. For giving a damn. ALBRECHT My pleasure. ERIC Don't smoke these. As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame. ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again. ALBRECHT Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that. MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position. INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him. GRANGE The son of a bitch winked at me. The he jumped. Three stories. Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale. LAO Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird? GRANGE (puzzled) No. I saw a guitar. (beat; irritated) This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it? (beat) There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood. Lao's expression is one of sublime content. LAO Good. Grange It could've been a chicken... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION") A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the store side. SKANK I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck. T-BIRD I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night. ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store. T-BIRD We need some smokes and some road beers. SKANK Got it. Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car. ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends. EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees: INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light. ANGLE - T-BIRD He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear. T-BIRD What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?! INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him. ERIC I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking. TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS on ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered. INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING. SKANK What's all this happy horseshit? And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue -- but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store. AXEL Alright, alright, alright -- everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are. Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag. CHOPPER Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun. Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.-- INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed. ERIC (O.S.) Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster. ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway. T-BIRD You call it, blood -- you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go. Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road. ERIC That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before. EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way. INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG. MJ Smells like rain. SPEEG Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff? MJ In the bag. Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag. SPEEG I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally. They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety. MJ What in the crap? MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff. SPEEG Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit! EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT as the cruiser roars out to give chase. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT Eric lends the chase car a backward look. ERIC You caught one. Drive faster. T-BIRD Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want! Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face. ERIC I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster. Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs. ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, ERIC (CONT'D) You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing. T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win. T-BIRD To hell with you. ERIC (wry) Naturally. INSERT - SPEEDOMETER Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark. EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit. INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT as MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl. EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt. INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic. T-BIRD So what -- you gonna rape me now? ERIC Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned. Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk. ERIC'S POV - The Trunk. loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia. INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest. The car is now in gear, idling. ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord. ERIC A little restrictive? Good. (chilling) You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her. (re: bomb) What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say? T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel. ERIC (CONT'D) I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best. Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord. INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal. ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip. INTERCUTS: as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one. INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH! CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND thumbing out the final bullet. EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT ERIC All gone. ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges. ANGLE - ERIC heaving the gun into the distant water. Plosh. He produces T- Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the ground. He prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle. HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into a burning crow shape. INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed looking eggs. Kind gross. ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE. NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS. DARLA I never was too good at this domestic shit. ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet. ELLY Don't say "shit". (beat) That's okay. Corn Flakes are okay. Anything. She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN. Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his roof playing the guitar. EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged cables to: ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up streaked by the night's work. His fingering is unsure and he tries the tune again. INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong around Eric's neck. Like an amulet. ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING He's got it right this time. Strong, sure CHORDS. Passionate. We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery. He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind him. IRATE VOICE (O.S.) Hey, shut the fuck up! Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left. Funny. EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY Later. Elly is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili dog. MICKEY Chili dog for breakfast... it's original. ELLY Mom tried to cook. MICKEY Oh. CUSTOMER (O.S.) Hey, Mickey, I need a special with everything. No sawdust. MICKEY (to Elly) Everyone's a comedian. Enjoy. Mickey EXITS FRAME. GRANGE (O.S.) You're Elly, right? I know your mom. Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's mirrored-windowed car is parked across the street, b.g. ELLY A lot of people "know" my mom. Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey. GRANGE I know your friend, too -- the one that looks like a rock star. ELLY I don't know you. GRANGE (easily) I'd like to get in touch with him. Elly sizes Grange up. ELLY You're not a cop, either. What do you want him for? GRANGE I'm looking for a good guitar man. ELLY Right. Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across the countertop to Mickey. ELLY (CONT'D) You buying? (cuts him some slack) He kinda wanders around. You'll see him if you pay attention. GRANGE I need to find him kind of soon, Elly. INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode. He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity in the big open living room. On purpose, he stretches hard against the bedroom doorframe. FLASH: Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window wearing a rococo Victorian gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the last few remaining ties that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the floor... FLASH ENDS. LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing as though he is pumping iron, pumping up. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's. FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories. ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill. He grasps it with both hands. FLASH: A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each moving along the other's body. Curves and dips and contours. But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes. FLASH ENDS. ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW His GAZE similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like Kung Fu prep. When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before him on the sill. ERIC That's better. He wipes his torso down with a towel. ERIC (CONT'D) It's almost time. He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it. We can HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful fist. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table. He has a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter. SKANK Top, I made the sumbitch! Face all painted white like some kinda fuckin' kabuki homo! WIDE ANGLE to include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and rinses his nostrils with brandy. LAO Sounds like our "Crow" is out-maneuvering you. TOP DOLLAR "Our" Crow...? LAO Come now. You've seen the graffiti -- all over the city in the few hors it has taken your men to drop like plague victims. What about your turf, Top? (mockingly) You don't seem to have ripped out anyone's heart yet. TOP DOLLAR (pissed off) The night is young. SKANK (hot) The found T-bird flash-fried to what was left of his fucking car! Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao. He rises and goes to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something outside, below, that really torques him off. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV) A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the condemned building right across the street. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below. TOP DOLLAR Hey, you little fuckweed! That's against the law! His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment. TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D) I don't give a shit what kinda bird this guy is. EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT As Top turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the chunky shadows where the lights don't fall. Eric is there, perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness. INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his time being frittered. LAO I am sitting over here. He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent. Top looks sheepish. LAO (CONT'D) Do you think this childish machismo impresses me? (regains composure) When I was a boy in Saigon I watched my country change one block at a time, one building at a time. Whole lives erased. A way of life, polluted. Today, no one forces me to move. I use my powers to change your country, one block at a time, one building at a time. TOP DOLLAR Nice speech. What's it supposed to mean? LAO Your comprehension is not required. Your cooperation and, indeed, your ability are the issues on the table. Top rallies to this. TOP DOLLAR Whatever you say, I can do. Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's guarantee. LAO That's reassuring. CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber. ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's cartridge in his hair. He fists the shell casing

bad

How many times the word 'bad' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

mourir

How many times the word 'mourir' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

turned

How many times the word 'turned' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

d'une

How many times the word 'd'une' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

tomb

How many times the word 'tomb' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

chisme

How many times the word 'chisme' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

chante

How many times the word 'chante' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

mettra

How many times the word 'mettra' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

meuble

How many times the word 'meuble' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

cloue

How many times the word 'cloue' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

brouette

How many times the word 'brouette' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

s'agit

How many times the word 's'agit' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

mots

How many times the word 'mots' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

signer

How many times the word 'signer' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

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How many times the word 'comp' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

for

How many times the word 'for' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

appelle

How many times the word 'appelle' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

appliquer

How many times the word 'appliquer' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

singeant

How many times the word 'singeant' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

fen

How many times the word 'fen' appears in the text?

En voil une heure pour une brouette MICHEL DOLL On va aux escargots ! Fondu au noir. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR NUIT On entend encore des avions, et la sc ne est r guli rement clair e par des lueurs venant du ciel. Michel avance le plus vite qu'il peut en poussant la brouette lourdement charg e. Paulette trottine ses c t s. Dans la brouette, il y a plein de croix, avec, sur le dessus, la croix de Georges Doll , ainsi que la petite croix blanche que la m re Doll avait fix dessus. Paulette semble inqui te. PAULETTE T'as pas peur ? MICHEL DOLL Non. Et toi ? PAULETTE Non. Tu veux que je te chante ? MICHEL DOLL Si tu veux. Le ciel est constell de lumi res provenant des fus es envoy es par les avions. Paulette chante en tenant le bras de Michel. Elle est visiblement effray e, mais, ne voulant pas montrer sa peur, elle chante avec d'autant plus d'ardeur. PAULETTE Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? On lui banda la jambe, et le bras lui remit, Carabi ! Les dames de l'h pital sont arriv es au bruit, Carabi, toto Carabo. Comp re Guilleri, te laisseras-tu mourir ? Les bruits de bombes se rapprochent. Paulette l che le bras de Michel et s'accroupit par terre. PAULETTE Faut se coucher par terre. MICHEL DOLL Penses-tu ? Ils peuvent pas nous voir ! Allez, vite ! Il acc l re le pas. PAULETTE On a perdu une croix. MICHEL DOLL a fait rien, on en avait de trop ! Les enfants se mettent courir, sous la lumi re blafarde des fus es clairantes. Fondu au noir. FERME DES GOUARD - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard verse de l'eau chaude d'une casserole dans un bol, puis il se dirige vers un meuble pr s de la fen tre. Il pose le bol sur le meuble, trempe son blaireau dans l'eau et le frotte sur un pain de savon barbe. Il se rapproche de la fen tre, et va pour appliquer la mousse sur sa joue, lorsqu'il est interpel par les aboiements du chien. Il regarde par la fen tre. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Ren e, tout habill e de noir, sort de la ferme en attachant un ruban dans les cheveux de Paulette. Puis Raymond sort, suivi de sa m re. Ils sont, tous deux, aussi, habill s de noir. La m re porte un bouquet de fleur et une binette. Raymond ramasse, au passage, un arrosoir et un r teau. LA M RE DOLL Il les aimait bien, les marguerites. Berthe sort son tour, elle aussi en grand deuil et les bras charg s de fleurs. Puis vient Michel et enfin, le p re, en costume noir, qui sort le dernier et ferme la porte clef. Il tient une petite binette la main. RAYMOND DOLL On va lui faire un beau petit jardin, sur sa tombe. LA M RE DOLL C'est le premier dimanche qu'on va la messe sans lui. Le p re envoie valdinguer le chapeau que Raymond porte sur la t te. Il s'agit du chapeau que Raymond avait r cup r apr s l'exode. Raymond rattrape le chapeau au vol. LE P RE DOLL Enl ve a. Allez, en route ! Ils font quelques pas, puis Michel s'arr te brusquement, et dit, d'une voix tr s d cid e. MICHEL DOLL Je veux pas y aller, moi, au cimeti re ! Son p re lui donne une gifle. LE P RE DOLL Prends toujours a ! Berthe lui colle dans les main un pot de fleurs, fait d'une bo te de conserve. BERTHE DOLL Et a ! LA M RE DOLL Et filez ! Michel se met en marche contre-coeur. Paulette lui court apr s et lui donne le bras. Ils traversent la cour de la ferme. FERME DES GOUARD - CUISINE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re Gouard a suivi toute la sc ne pr c dente de sa fen tre. Il se retourne. LE P RE GOUARD Jeanne ! JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Quoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Va couper des fleurs. JEANNE GOUARD (voix off) Pourquoi ? LE P RE GOUARD Fais ce que je te dis : va couper des fleurs ! Et grouille ! Il revient vers son miroir pour taler la mousse sur son visage. LE P RE GOUARD Ils sont pas les seuls avoir un d funt. CHEMIN CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR On entend la cloche de l' glise qui appelle les fid les la messe. Gros plan sur une petite croix d'ivoire pos e sur le chemin. Il s'agit de la petite croix que la m re Doll avait accroch e sur la grande croix de la tombe de son fils, et aussi de la croix qui tait tomb e de la brouette des enfants. La famille Doll s'approche de la croix. Le p re la regarde, tr s surpris. LE P RE DOLL Bon Dieu ! Mais c'est la croix de Georges ! Il la ramasse pour l'examiner, mais la m re la lui prend des main. LA M RE DOLL Bien s r que c'est elle ! Y a encore le prix derri re. LE P RE DOLL a, c'est pas banal ! LA M RE DOLL Elle est pas venue ici toute seule ! LE P RE DOLL a, c'est sign ! BERTHE DOLL Quoi, sign ? LA M RE DOLL a, c'est une preuve ! BERTHE DOLL Une preuve de quoi ? LE P RE DOLL Elle a raison : c'est une preuve ! Le p re Doll se remet en marche en acc l rant le pas, suivi par toute sa famille. Michel suit un peu en retrait avec Paulette. Il baisse la t te. D'un seul coup, il s'arr te net. MICHEL DOLL J'y vais pas. Il se retourne, pr t rebrousser chemin, lorsqu'il aper oit la famille Gouard, qui arrive grands pas derri re lui. Michel prend la main de Paulette et se remet rapidement en marche. MICHEL DOLL Vite, v'l les Gouard ! Les Gouards marchent, eux aussi, tr s vite. Le p re Gouard porte une binette sur l' paule, Jeanne un arrosoir et des fleurs, Marcelle un pot de fleurs. Francis, en bretelles, porte son veston sur le bras. LE P RE GOUARD Un taudis, qu'il a dit ! JEANNE GOUARD Elle sera plus belle que la leur. CIMETI RE - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les Doll traversent le cimeti re grandes enjamb es vers la tombe de Georges. La croix n'est plus l . LA M RE DOLL Oh !... Y a plus de croix ! Michel pose le pot de fleurs par terre. Paulette s'accroupit et met sa main dans le trou marquant l'emplacement de la croix manquante. PAULETTE Y a un trou ! Elle y est plus ! LE P RE DOLL Nom de Dieu !... Regarde !... Il bondit vers une tombe sur laquelle est plant e une croix de bois avec l'inscription : Ici repose Am lie GOUARD - 1898- 1938 . Il pose son chapeau sur une croix voisine, puis il saisit la croix deux mains, et la casse en deux au ras du sol. La partie sup rieure tombe terre. Tourn vers sa famille, il ne voit pas les Gouard arriver derri re lui. Il ramasse la croix, d plante la partie encore en terre, puis, sur son genou, il se met en devoir de casser la croix en plusieurs morceaux. La croix se brise et la plaque m tallique, qui l'ornait, vole en l'air. Derri re lui, la famille Gouard est rest e p trifi e, seul le p re Gouard vient vers lui. La m re Doll , qui, elle, voit le p re Gouard juste derri re son mari maintenant, tente de lui faire des signes muets pour l'avertir. D'un coup de pied, le p re Doll envoie la croix voler dans les airs. Berthe, ses fleurs la main, part en courant vers l' glise. Sa m re essaie toujours, par des signes muets, de pr venir son mari de la pr sence du p re Gouard dans son dos. Le p re Doll se retourne et voit enfin son voisin, le chapeau la main. Il ramasse le sien et le remet sur sa t te, le p re Gouard en fait autant. Ce dernier donne une violente bourrade au p re Doll , qui manque perdre l' quilibre et perd son chapeau. Le p re Doll donne une violent bourrade son voisin, qui perd son chapeau. Le p re Gouard revient vers le p re Doll , le prend par le col, et le fait reculer lentement. LE P RE GOUARD Salaud !... Vampire !... Salaud !... LE P RE DOLL Landru !... Sous la pouss e du p re Gouard, le p re Doll recule de plus en plus vite. La famille Gouard est toujours p trifi e l'entr e du cimeti re. Francis mord le bord de son chapeau. Le p re Gouard continue pousser son adversaire devant lui. Ils finissent par tomber, tous les deux, dans une fosse fra chement creus e. Les deux familles accourent, et s'alignent, chacune d'un c t de la fosse. FRANCIS GOUARD Ah !... vous avez bonne mine, tous les deux ! LA M RE DOLL Tu t'es-t'y fait mal ? JEANNE GOUARD Et toi, le p re ? LA M RE DOLL Et ben, r pondez, quoi ! On entend les coups et les grognements des deux combattants. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Oui !... Tiens !... LE P RE GOUARD (voix off) Houl ! La vache ! LA M RE DOLL Joseph ! M fie-toi, il est mauvais ! JEANNE GOUARD Le l che pas ! FRANCIS GOUARD Allez, c'est pas un endroit pour se battre ! RAYMOND DOLL Je voudrais bien savoir o tu t'es battu, toi, d serteur ! FRANCIS GOUARD Oh, mais... d serteur, toi m me ! RAYMOND DOLL Je suis pas d serteur, je suis r form ... Moi, j'ai l'albumine. FRANCIS GOUARD L'albumine !... Francis, d'un coup de main, fait voler le chapeau de Raymond. Berthe, tenant toujours ses fleurs la main, arrive en courant, suivie du cur , qui porte encore son aube et son tole. Les deux familles se retournent vers le cur . Au fond du trou, les deux hommes continuent se battre. Les familles s' cartent l g rement pour laisser passer le cur , qui se penche, l'air tr s m content. LE CUR C'est fini, non ? Les bruits de bagarre continuent. Comme le cur est pench , le bas de son tole est au niveau des yeux de Paulette accroupie. Elle semble fascin e par les deux belles croix brod es qui ornent l' tole, qu'elle touche d licatement. LE CUR Des p res de famille ! Vous n'avez pas honte ? Dans le trou, les deux hommes se tiennent toujours par le col. LE P RE GOUARD Monsieur le Cur , il m'a cass la croix d'Am lie ! LE P RE DOLL Monsieur le Cur , il m'a vol les deux croix de Georges ! LE P RE GOUARD C'est pas vrai : je vole pas les morts, moi ! LE P RE DOLL Si c'est pas toi, qui c'est, alors, ? LE CUR Vous n'avez pas honte !... Non, Doll , c'est pas lui. Je le connais, celui qui s'amuse voler les croix. Derri re le cur , Michel s' loigne le plus discr tement possible. Paulette le regarde partir en hochant la main, avec un air de Ben dis donc, qu'est-ce que vas prendre ! LE CUR Il a d j essay de voler la croix du ma tre-autel ! Michel se sauve en courant travers les tombes LE CUR (voix off) Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici ! Michel court de plus en plus vite. Les t tes des deux combattants, soudain calm s, mergent du haut de la fosse. Ils sont chevel s et ils ont le col en bataille. LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... LE P RE DOLL (hurlant) Michel !... Michel sort du cimeti re en courant. Les membres des deux familles, accompagn s du cur , se lancent sa poursuite. Sauf les deux p res, coinc s dans la fosse, et Paulette, qui regarde toute cette agitation avec une certaine indiff rence. VOIX DIVERSES Michel !... Michel !... Michel !... Viens ici !... Michel !... LA M RE DOLL Michel !... Viens ici !... Qu'est-ce que tu as fais ?... Regarde ce que tu nous fais, hein !... Le p re Gouard fait la courte chelle son voisin, qui sort de la fosse et rejoint, en courant, les poursuivants de Michel. LE P RE GOUARD Ben !... Et moi !... Il essaie d sesp r ment de sortir de la fosse. LE P RE GOUARD Bande de fumiers ! Paulette continue regarder, sans bouger, les gens qui sortent en courant du cimeti re. FONDU ENCHA N MOULIN - INT RIEUR JOUR Les croix du cimeti re sont plant es dans le sol de terre battue du vieux moulin. Certaines croix sont d cor es de fleurs. Sur chaque croix, soit fix es sur croix, soit pos es au pied de la croix, l'une des tiquettes r dig es par Michel et portant le nom du d funt : Jock, chien , Tope , Poussin , Verre de terre , Papillon , Rouge-gorge , etc. Michel, assis par terre, face son cimeti re , contemple son oeuvre avec un certain orgueil. Il s'essuie les mains avec des feuilles, prend une pomme et mord dedans. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT La m re Doll est en train de se d shabiller. Elle jette son jupon sur le lit de Georges, sur lequel il n'y a plus ni drap, ni couverture, et se retrouve en combinaison. Assis table, et clair s par une lampe p trole, le p re en train d' crire et Ren e est en train de lire. LA M RE DOLL S'il est pas rentr , c'est qu'il a peur de toi. LE P RE DOLL Il a pas tort. La m re Doll s'est assise sur son lit et enl ve ses bas. LA M RE DOLL Fais-y pas de mal. LE P RE DOLL Je ne peux pas lui en faire du mal, je ne sais pas o il est ! Le p re se cure les dents avec un morceau d'allumette, puis crachote un coup. Raymond, d j couch , joue avec l'avion qu'il s'est fabriqu . Il finit de clouer l'h lice. Ren e tourne une page de son livre, et, tr s absorb e par sa lecture, ne se rend plus compte de ce qu'il se passe autour d'elle. Elle se bouche m me les oreilles pour tre certaine de bien s'isoler de sa famille. Le p re se verse un verre de vin, et le regarde pensivement avant de le boire. Raymond souffle sur l'h lice de son avion, mais celle-ci ne bouge pas. Le p re boit la moiti de son verre. Raymond fait tourner l'h lice avec le morceau de m tal qui lui a servi la clouer. Le p re fait naviguer un peu le vin dans sa bouche avant de l'avaler. Il hoche la t te, conscient de la faiblesse intellectuelle de son fils. Il finit son verre de vin, se l ve un peu brusquement, et imm diatement porte les mains sur ses reins. LE P RE DOLL Ouh !... LA M RE DOLL T'as toujours mal ? LE P RE DOLL Mais, Bon Dieu... mais qu'est-ce qu'il a bien pu foutre de quatorze croix ? Je comprends pas. La m re se glisse dans son lit. Le p re Doll s'approche de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL Allez, toi, va te coucher. REN E DOLL Oh, laisse-moi finir. Le p re Doll regarde le livre, qui n'est pas en tr s bon tat, et dont les pages ont tendance se d tacher. LE P RE DOLL Qu'est-ce que c'est ? REN E DOLL Je sais pas, mais c'est beau !... Ah !... Elle r le parce que le p re, en lui rendant le livre, l'a quelque peu malmen . Le p re remet sa casquette sur sa t te. Il prend la lampe-temp te pour sortir. LA M RE DOLL Quatorze ?... Quatorze ?... LE P RE DOLL Quatorze. J'ai refait le compte avec le cur ... Et encore, je dis m me pas celle du Georges. Il pose la lampe sur la table et compte sur ses doigts. LE P RE DOLL Tiens... Il y a les Galuchet, un... les Brillon, deux... la veuve Contrat, trois... Raymond imite son p re et compte aussi sur ses doigts. RAYMOND DOLL Celle des Gouard. LE P RE DOLL Oui, celle des... Il se tourne vers Raymond. LE P RE DOLL Ta gueule ! LA M RE DOLL Qu'est-ce a va nous co ter ? RAYMOND DOLL Oh, c'est pas compliqu ... Celle de Georges faisait deux cent cinquante francs... Deux cent cinquante multipli par quatorze... Derri re la fen tre, on distingue le visage de Michel qui regarde l'int rieur de la ferme. RAYMOND DOLL Je pose quatorze et je retiens... Dans son lit, Raymond essaie de calculer mentalement, mais n'y arrive visiblement pas. LE P RE DOLL T'as jamais su... Attends seulement que je le retrouve. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR NUIT Michel, derri re la fen tre, regarde ce qui se passe dans la ferme, et voit son p re se diriger vers la porte. Entendant la porte s'ouvrir, Michel s' loigne en courant. Le p re sort de la ferme et regarde autour de lui. Mais il ne voit rien et n'entend que le chant des grenouilles. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel entre pr cipitamment dans la grange, et grimpe rapidement l' chelle. Arriv en haut de l' chelle, il ouvre la petite porte qui communique avec le grenier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Par la grange, Michel entre dans la chambre de Paulette . Il chuchote. MICHEL DOLL Paulette !... Paulette !... Michel s'aper oit que le lit est vide. Il tend l'oreille, et entendant des voix, il descend quelques marches de l'escalier. A travers les barreaux verticaux qui longe l'escalier, il aper oit Ren e toujours assise table en train de lire. Il entend aussi la voix de Berthe venant de juste en-dessous de l'escalier. Il tourne la t te, puis se rapproche des barreaux. BERTHE DOLL (voix off) Pourquoi tu veux pas ?... Tu vas me le dire... Hein ?... A travers les barreaux, Michel voit Berthe qui embrasse Paulette et l'assoit sur un lit. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel se colle le visage entre les barreaux pour mieux suivre ce qui se passe. BERTHE DOLL Et puisque tu le sais, dis-le moi. Paulette regarde Berthe en pleurnichant. PAULETTE Non ! Je le sais pas. BERTHE DOLL Mais si, tu le sais, ton nez remue. Paulette se prend le nez entre les doigts. PAULETTE Pourquoi ? BERTHE DOLL Quand il remue, c'est qu'on a menti. Paulette semble un peu inqui te. PAULETTE Ah ?... BERTHE DOLL Tu te rends compte de ce qu'il a fait, Michel ? Voler la croix de son fr re !... Tu crois que c'est beau, a ? Berthe s'agenouille au pied du lit. Paulette se met pleurer, tout en continuant se tripoter le nez. PAULETTE Non. BERTHE DOLL Je te demande pas de pleurer, je te demande o elles sont... Mais quoi a vous sert, des croix ? C'est pas des jouets ! PAULETTE Non, c'est pas des jouets... Berthe lui pousse la main avec laquelle elle tient son nez. BERTHE DOLL coute... Tiens pas ton nez... Monsieur Doll , il te tapera dessus jusqu' ce que tu aies le derri re tout noir. Alors, t'as qu' me le dire moi... J'irai les chercher et personne ne vous dira rien... C'est pas mieux comme a ? A travers les barreaux, Michel mime le mot Non . PAULETTE Oui. BERTHE DOLL Tu vois... O elles sont ? PAULETTE Je ne sais pas. Le ton de Berthe se durcit. BERTHE DOLL Ben alors, pourquoi vous tes venus prendre la brouette dans la grange ?... Je vais lui dire, moi, Monsieur Doll . MICHEL DOLL Tu lui diras quoi, Monsieur Doll ? Berthe et Paulette l ve la t te vers le haut de l'escalier. Paulette sourit, mais Berthe semble un peu surprise. BERTHE DOLL Ah ! Te voil , toi ! Elle se l ve. MICHEL DOLL Et moi aussi je vais lui dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu lui diras quoi ? MICHEL DOLL Avec qui que t' tais dans la grange. Berthe semble un peu mal son aise, tout coup. BERTHE DOLL Menteur. MICHEL DOLL Menteuse. BERTHE DOLL Je l'appelle ? MICHEL DOLL Vas-y ! Le p re Doll rentre dans la pi ce et tire le verrou de la porte. Berthe se tourne vers Michel, et prend un ton doucereux pour DIRE : BERTHE DOLL Fais pas le malin. Michel grimpe rapidement en haut de l'escalier. Le p re Doll pose sa lampe sur une petite table. LE P RE DOLL ( Ren e) J'ai dit : Au lit ! Ren e se l ve pr cipitamment de la table, son livre la main. Son p re la pousse vers son lit. A la lumi re de la bougie pos e pr s du lit, Ren e continue lire, tout en se d shabillant. Le p re se tourne vers Berthe qui tient Paulette dans ses bras. LE P RE DOLL J'ai tout boucl . Si jamais il vient taper cette nuit, mine de rien, tu le fais rentrer et tu m'appelles... Compris ? On voit furtivement Michel qui observe la sc ne entre deux barreaux de l'escalier. Berthe, qui se sait observ e et cout e, prend un ton faussement enjou pour r pondre BERTHE DOLL Oui, papa. Le p re Doll regarde Paulette dans les bras de Berthe. LE P RE DOLL Elle n'a rien dit ? BERTHE DOLL Non. Berthe pose Paulette par terre. Celle-ci ne quitte pas le p re Doll des yeux. Berthe embrasse Paulette. BERTHE DOLL Bonsoir, mon J sus. Berthe pousse Paulette s' loigner d'elle. Le p re s'approche de la bougie qui claire le livre de Ren e, et la souffle. LE P RE DOLL La lumi re, c'est pas fait pour lire. La sc ne est tout coup plong e dans l'obscurit compl te. REN E DOLL J'y vois rien me d shabiller. Le p re Doll ricane. LE P RE DOLL Oh, pour ce que t'as montrer. Paulette commence monter deux marches de l'escalier et s'arr te pour regarder Raymond, allong dans son lit au pied de l'escalier. PAULETTE Bonsoir, Monsieur Raymond. RAYMOND DOLL Je te dirai bonsoir quand vous aurez rendu les croix. Paulette regarde un instant autour d'elle, puis, comprenant qu'elle n'est plus aussi aim e qu'auparavant, elle reprend sa marche dans l'escalier. FERME DES DOLL - GRENIER - INT RIEUR NUIT Michel attend Paulette, qui gravit les derni res marches. MICHEL DOLL Tu viens... On y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Au cimeti re. PAULETTE Oh non ! Pas maintenant, il fait noir. MICHEL DOLL Et puis d'abord, il a tout boucl . On ira demain. PAULETTE Il est beau ? MICHEL DOLL Ah !... S'il est beau ! Y a toutes les croix... et les tiquettes. PAULETTE Raconte-moi. Michel entra ne Paulette loin de l'escalier, de peur qu'on les entende. MICHEL DOLL J'ai mis des cailloux. Y a toutes les b tes... et puis des fleurs... Y a des assiettes cass es... des escargots. Paulette rit. On entend du bruit venant d'en bas. Michel se pr cipite vers la petite porte qui m ne la grange. Mais avant de sortir, il lui chuchote : MICHEL DOLL Je vais me coucher dans la grange. Michel referme la porte. Paulette semble tr s heureuse et elle se jette toute habill e sur son lit. Elle se glisse sous la couverture sans m me enlever ses chaussures. Fondu au noir FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR On entend le chant du coq. Michel dort dans le foin, envelopp dans un sac bl . Paulette s'approche de lui et lui chatouille l'oreille avec une paille. Il se r veille et se frotte les yeux. MICHEL DOLL Tiens, tu es l ? Il se l ve, et s'assoit dans le foin c t de Paulette. PAULETTE Bonjour. MICHEL DOLL Bonjour... Allez... on y va. PAULETTE O a ? MICHEL DOLL Ben, voir le cimeti re. PAULETTE J'ai faim. Michel sort une pomme de sa poche et la tend Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Tiens. Paulette prend la pomme et la sent. Puis elle la remet dans la main de Michel. PAULETTE J'aime pas les pommes. MICHEL DOLL J'ai pas autre chose. PAULETTE Je veux du caf au lait. Michel se l ve, l'air un peu agac . MICHEL DOLL Oh, ben, t'es pas commode ! FERME DES DOLL ET DES GOUARDS - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR On voit les deux fermes voisines, et, au loin, une voiture qui s'approche et finit pas s'arr ter. Dans la cour des Gouard, Francis regarde la voiture et semble tr s inquiet. Il entre rapidement chez lui. Pr s du ruisseau, Raymond est en train de puiser de l'eau. Lui aussi voit la voiture s'arr ter, et il semble un peu intrigu . Sur le chemin qui m ne aux deux fermes, deux gendarmes marchent vers les b timents. Raymond, son broc la main court vers la ferme. FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR Le p re, debout pr s de la table, est en train d'essuyer un verre. La m re essuie autre chose derri re lui. Berthe est assise table, et Ren e est debout derri re elle La porte vers l'ext rieur est grande ouverte, et Raymond entre en RIGOLANT : RAYMOND DOLL a y est, les Gouard ont port plainte ! Le p re se tourne vers lui. LE P RE DOLL a te fait rigoler, toi ? Et les croix, hein ?... C'est toi qui les paieras ? Il donne une gifle Raymond, puis sort sur le pas de la porte. La m re et Ren e le rejoignent. Le p re se tourne vers sa femme. LE P RE DOLL Et ce cochon qui est m me pas rentr ! Berthe est maintenant debout pr s de la table. BERTHE DOLL Il est pas loin. LE P RE DOLL Tu pouvais pas le dire. BERTHE DOLL Tu me l'as pas demand . Le p re se met crier : LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Michel !... Il s' loigne dans la cour. FERME DES DOLL - COUR - EXT RIEUR JOUR Les deux gendarmes traversent la passerelle et s'approchent de la ferme Doll . FERME DES DOLL - SALLE COMMUNE - INT RIEUR JOUR La m re Doll rentre dans la pi ce, suivie de Ren e. LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... La m re arrange sa coiffure. Elle semble tr s nerveuse. FERME DES DOLL - GRANGE FOIN - INT RIEUR JOUR LE P RE DOLL (voix off) Michel !... Michel regarde par la lucarne et revient vers Paulette. MICHEL DOLL Merde, v'l les gendarmes ! PAULETTE Qu'est-ce qu'ils vont nous faire ? Paulette prend un sac a bl , et se le met sur le dos en frissonnant. MICHEL DOLL Je sais pas... Y a qu' rien leur dire... Tu jures ? PAULETTE Oui. MICHEL DOLL Non. Dis : Je jure ! PAULETTE Je jure. MICHEL DOLL Bon, moi aussi, je dis Je jure . Croix en bois, croix en fer, celui qui ment, y va en Enfer. Il tend la main et crache par terre, puis se retourne vers la lucarne. Le p re Doll ouvre la porte de la grange. LE P RE DOLL Michel !... Il se dirige vers son fils. LE P RE DOLL Saligaud, t'as gagn , v'l les gendarmes. Il grimpe sur le tas de foin, sur lequel Michel et Paulette sont serr s l'un contre l'autre, pr s de la lucarne. LE P RE DOLL Tu vas dire o elles sont, ces croix ? Il tr buche sur un manche de fourche cach dans le foin et s' tale dans le foin. Il se rel ve, jette la fourche loin de lui et se dirige vers Michel. LE P RE DOLL Tu le diras, hein ? Il essaie d'attraper Michel, qui lui chappe. Paulette se met pleurer. LE P RE DOLL T te de cochon, tu vas le dire o elles sont, ces croix, hein ? Il r ussit attraper Michel et le secoue. LE P RE DOLL Hein ?... MICHEL DOLL Non, je le dirai pas. Le p re jette son fils dans le foin. LE P RE DOLL Alors, tu finiras en prison ! Michel se rel ve. MICHEL DOLL Oui, j'aime mieux ! Alors que Michel essaie de se sauver, le p re l'attrape par un pied et le fait tr bucher. Il le secoue dans tous les sens et lui donne des baffes. LE P RE DOLL Quatorze croix ! Mais, Bon Dieu de Bon Dieu, mais qu'est-ce que t'avais foutre de quatorze croix, hein ? Il le soul ve comme s'il s'agissait d'une plume et le jette par terre. LE P RE DOLL Oh !... Quatorze croix !... Quatorze milles coups

faut

How many times the word 'faut' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

wretched;--so

How many times the word 'wretched;--so' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

frightful

How many times the word 'frightful' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

exulted

How many times the word 'exulted' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

swimming

How many times the word 'swimming' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

fifty

How many times the word 'fifty' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

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Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

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Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

happening

How many times the word 'happening' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

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How many times the word 'stage' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

drifted

How many times the word 'drifted' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

white

How many times the word 'white' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

n'est

How many times the word 'n'est' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

fascinated

How many times the word 'fascinated' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

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How many times the word 'fr' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

landing

How many times the word 'landing' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

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Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

transit

How many times the word 'transit' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

outside

How many times the word 'outside' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

mobilis

How many times the word 'mobilis' appears in the text?

Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously plashing, issuing from the lake. The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree, and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was shadowy with coming summer. Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey, uncreated water. Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching. How I envy him, she said, in low, desirous tones. Ugh! shivered Ursula. So cold! Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there! The sisters stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and arched over with mist and dim woods. Don t you wish it were you? asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula. I do, said Ursula. But I m not sure it s so wet. No, said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them. It is Gerald Crich, said Ursula. I know, replied Gudrun. And she stood motionless gazing over the water at the face which washed up and down on the flood, as he swam steadily. From his separate element he saw them and he exulted to himself because of his own advantage, his possession of a world to himself. He was immune and perfect. He loved his own vigorous, thrusting motion, and the violent impulse of the very cold water against his limbs, buoying him up. He could see the girls watching him a way off, outside, and that pleased him. He lifted his arm from the water, in a sign to them. He is waving, said Ursula. Yes, replied Gudrun. They watched him. He waved again, with a strange movement of recognition across the difference. Like a Nibelung, laughed Ursula. Gudrun said nothing, only stood still looking over the water. Gerald suddenly turned, and was swimming away swiftly, with a side stroke. He was alone now, alone and immune in the middle of the waters, which he had all to himself. He exulted in his isolation in the new element, unquestioned and unconditioned. He was happy, thrusting with his legs and all his body, without bond or connection anywhere, just himself in the watery world. Gudrun envied him almost painfully. Even this momentary possession of pure isolation and fluidity seemed to her so terribly desirable that she felt herself as if damned, out there on the high-road. God, what it is to be a man! she cried. What? exclaimed Ursula in surprise. The freedom, the liberty, the mobility! cried Gudrun, strangely flushed and brilliant. You re a man, you want to do a thing, you do it. You haven t the _thousand_ obstacles a woman has in front of her. Ursula wondered what was in Gudrun s mind, to occasion this outburst. She could not understand. What do you want to do? she asked. Nothing, cried Gudrun, in swift refutation. But supposing I did. Supposing I want to swim up that water. It is impossible, it is one of the impossibilities of life, for me to take my clothes off now and jump in. But isn t it _ridiculous_, doesn t it simply prevent our living! She was so hot, so flushed, so furious, that Ursula was puzzled. The two sisters went on, up the road. They were passing between the trees just below Shortlands. They looked up at the long, low house, dim and glamorous in the wet morning, its cedar trees slanting before the windows. Gudrun seemed to be studying it closely. Don t you think it s attractive, Ursula? asked Gudrun. Very, said Ursula. Very peaceful and charming. It has form, too it has a period. What period? Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don t you think? Ursula laughed. Don t you think so? repeated Gudrun. Perhaps. But I don t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements. Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly. Of course, she said, that s quite inevitable. Quite, laughed Ursula. He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He ll have to die soon, when he s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He s got _go_, anyhow. Certainly, he s got go, said Gudrun. In fact I ve never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is, where does his _go_ go to, what becomes of it? Oh I know, said Ursula. It goes in applying the latest appliances! Exactly, said Gudrun. You know he shot his brother? said Ursula. Shot his brother? cried Gudrun, frowning as if in disapprobation. Didn t you know? Oh yes! I thought you knew. He and his brother were playing together with a gun. He told his brother to look down the gun, and it was loaded, and blew the top of his head off. Isn t it a horrible story? How fearful! cried Gudrun. But it is long ago? Oh yes, they were quite boys, said Ursula. I think it is one of the most horrible stories I know. And he of course did not know that the gun was loaded? Yes. You see it was an old thing that had been lying in the stable for years. Nobody dreamed it would ever go off, and of course, no one imagined it was loaded. But isn t it dreadful, that it should happen? Frightful! cried Gudrun. And isn t it horrible too to think of such a thing happening to one, when one was a child, and having to carry the responsibility of it all through one s life. Imagine it, two boys playing together then this comes upon them, for no reason whatever out of the air. Ursula, it s very frightening! Oh, it s one of the things I can t bear. Murder, that is thinkable, because there s a will behind it. But a thing like that to _happen_ to one Perhaps there _was_ an unconscious will behind it, said Ursula. This playing at killing has some primitive _desire_ for killing in it, don t you think? Desire! said Gudrun, coldly, stiffening a little. I can t see that they were even playing at killing. I suppose one boy said to the other, You look down the barrel while I pull the trigger, and see what happens. It seems to me the purest form of accident. No, said Ursula. I couldn t pull the trigger of the emptiest gun in the world, not if some-one were looking down the barrel. One instinctively doesn t do it one can t. Gudrun was silent for some moments, in sharp disagreement. Of course, she said coldly. If one is a woman, and grown up, one s instinct prevents one. But I cannot see how that applies to a couple of boys playing together. Her voice was cold and angry. Yes, persisted Ursula. At that moment they heard a woman s voice a few yards off say loudly: Oh damn the thing! They went forward and saw Laura Crich and Hermione Roddice in the field on the other side of the hedge, and Laura Crich struggling with the gate, to get out. Ursula at once hurried up and helped to lift the gate. Thanks so much, said Laura, looking up flushed and amazon-like, yet rather confused. It isn t right on the hinges. No, said Ursula. And they re so heavy. Surprising! cried Laura. How do you do, sang Hermione, from out of the field, the moment she could make her voice heard. It s nice now. Are you going for a walk? Yes. Isn t the young green beautiful? So beautiful quite burning. Good morning good morning you ll come and see me? thank you so much next week yes good-bye, g-o-o-d b-y-e. Gudrun and Ursula stood and watched her slowly waving her head up and down, and waving her hand slowly in dismissal, smiling a strange affected smile, making a tall queer, frightening figure, with her heavy fair hair slipping to her eyes. Then they moved off, as if they had been dismissed like inferiors. The four women parted. As soon as they had gone far enough, Ursula said, her cheeks burning, I do think she s impudent. Who, Hermione Roddice? asked Gudrun. Why? The way she treats one impudence! Why, Ursula, what did you notice that was so impudent? asked Gudrun rather coldly. Her whole manner. Oh, it s impossible, the way she tries to bully one. Pure bullying. She s an impudent woman. You ll come and see me, as if we should be falling over ourselves for the privilege. I can t understand, Ursula, what you are so much put out about, said Gudrun, in some exasperation. One knows those women are impudent these free women who have emancipated themselves from the aristocracy. But it is so _unnecessary_ so vulgar, cried Ursula. No, I don t see it. And if I did pour moi, elle n existe pas. I don t grant her the power to be impudent to me. Do you think she likes you? asked Ursula. Well, no, I shouldn t think she did. Then why does she ask you to go to Breadalby and stay with her? Gudrun lifted her shoulders in a low shrug. After all, she s got the sense to know we re not just the ordinary run, said Gudrun. Whatever she is, she s not a fool. And I d rather have somebody I detested, than the ordinary woman who keeps to her own set. Hermione Roddice does risk herself in some respects. Ursula pondered this for a time. I doubt it, she replied. Really she risks nothing. I suppose we ought to admire her for knowing she _can_ invite us school teachers and risk nothing. Precisely! said Gudrun. Think of the myriads of women that daren t do it. She makes the most of her privileges that s something. I suppose, really, we should do the same, in her place. No, said Ursula. No. It would bore me. I couldn t spend my time playing her games. It s infra dig. The two sisters were like a pair of scissors, snipping off everything that came athwart them; or like a knife and a whetstone, the one sharpened against the other. Of course, cried Ursula suddenly, she ought to thank her stars if we will go and see her. You are perfectly beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever she is or was, and to my thinking, a thousand times more beautifully dressed, for she never looks fresh and natural, like a flower, always old, thought-out; and we _are_ more intelligent than most people. Undoubtedly! said Gudrun. And it ought to be admitted, simply, said Ursula. Certainly it ought, said Gudrun. But you ll find that the really chic thing is to be so absolutely ordinary, so perfectly commonplace and like the person in the street, that you really are a masterpiece of humanity, not the person in the street actually, but the artistic creation of her How awful! cried Ursula. Yes, Ursula, it _is_ awful, in most respects. You daren t be anything that isn t amazingly _ terre_, so much _ terre_ that it is the artistic creation of ordinariness. It s very dull to create oneself into nothing better, laughed Ursula. Very dull! retorted Gudrun. Really Ursula, it is dull, that s just the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille, after it. Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness. Strut, said Ursula. One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese. Exactly, cried Gudrun, a swan among geese. They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling, cried Ursula, with mocking laughter. And I don t feel a bit like a humble and pathetic ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese I can t help it. They make one feel so. And I don t care what _they_ think of me. _Je m en fiche._ Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike. Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all just all, she said. The sisters went home again, to read and talk and work, and wait for Monday, for school. Ursula often wondered what else she waited for, besides the beginning and end of the school week, and the beginning and end of the holidays. This was a whole life! Sometimes she had periods of tight horror, when it seemed to her that her life would pass away, and be gone, without having been more than this. But she never really accepted it. Her spirit was active, her life like a shoot that is growing steadily, but which has not yet come above ground. CHAPTER V. IN THE TRAIN One day at this time Birkin was called to London. He was not very fixed in his abode. He had rooms in Nottingham, because his work lay chiefly in that town. But often he was in London, or in Oxford. He moved about a great deal, his life seemed uncertain, without any definite rhythm, any organic meaning. On the platform of the railway station he saw Gerald Crich, reading a newspaper, and evidently waiting for the train. Birkin stood some distance off, among the people. It was against his instinct to approach anybody. From time to time, in a manner characteristic of him, Gerald lifted his head and looked round. Even though he was reading the newspaper closely, he must keep a watchful eye on his external surroundings. There seemed to be a dual consciousness running in him. He was thinking vigorously of something he read in the newspaper, and at the same time his eye ran over the surfaces of the life round him, and he missed nothing. Birkin, who was watching him, was irritated by his duality. He noticed too, that Gerald seemed always to be at bay against everybody, in spite of his queer, genial, social manner when roused. Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald s face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? London. So are you, I suppose. Yes Gerald s eyes went over Birkin s face in curiosity. We ll travel together if you like, he said. Don t you usually go first? asked Birkin. I can t stand the crowd, replied Gerald. But third ll be all right. There s a restaurant car, we can have some tea. The two men looked at the station clock, having nothing further to say. What were you reading in the paper? Birkin asked. Gerald looked at him quickly. Isn t it funny, what they _do_ put in the newspapers, he said. Here are two leaders he held out his _Daily Telegraph_, full of the ordinary newspaper cant he scanned the columns down and then there s this little I dunno what you d call it, essay, almost appearing with the leaders, and saying there must arise a man who will give new values to things, give us new truths, a new attitude to life, or else we shall be a crumbling nothingness in a few years, a country in ruin I suppose that s a bit of newspaper cant, as well, said Birkin. It sounds as if the man meant it, and quite genuinely, said Gerald. Give it to me, said Birkin, holding out his hand for the paper. The train came, and they went on board, sitting on either side a little table, by the window, in the restaurant car. Birkin glanced over his paper, then looked up at Gerald, who was waiting for him. I believe the man means it, he said, as far as he means anything. And do you think it s true? Do you think we really want a new gospel? asked Gerald. Birkin shrugged his shoulders. I think the people who say they want a new religion are the last to accept anything new. They want novelty right enough. But to stare straight at this life that we ve brought upon ourselves, and reject it, absolutely smash up the old idols of ourselves, that we sh ll never do. You ve got very badly to want to get rid of the old, before anything new will appear even in the self. Gerald watched him closely. You think we ought to break up this life, just start and let fly? he asked. This life. Yes I do. We ve got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. For it won t expand any more. There was a queer little smile in Gerald s eyes, a look of amusement, calm and curious. And how do you propose to begin? I suppose you mean, reform the whole order of society? he asked. Birkin had a slight, tense frown between the brows. He too was impatient of the conversation. I don t propose at all, he replied. When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people. The little smile began to die out of Gerald s eyes, and he said, looking with a cool stare at Birkin: So you really think things are very bad? Completely bad. The smile appeared again. In what way? Every way, said Birkin. We are such dreary liars. Our one idea is to lie to ourselves. We have an ideal of a perfect world, clean and straight and sufficient. So we cover the earth with foulness; life is a blotch of labour, like insects scurrying in filth, so that your collier can have a pianoforte in his parlour, and you can have a butler and a motor-car in your up-to-date house, and as a nation we can sport the Ritz, or the Empire, Gaby Deslys and the Sunday newspapers. It is very dreary. Gerald took a little time to re-adjust himself after this tirade. Would you have us live without houses return to nature? he asked. I would have nothing at all. People only do what they want to do and what they are capable of doing. If they were capable of anything else, there would be something else. Again Gerald pondered. He was not going to take offence at Birkin. Don t you think the collier s _pianoforte_, as you call it, is a symbol for something very real, a real desire for something higher, in the collier s life? Higher! cried Birkin. Yes. Amazing heights of upright grandeur. It makes him so much higher in his neighbouring collier s eyes. He sees himself reflected in the neighbouring opinion, like in a Brocken mist, several feet taller on the strength of the pianoforte, and he is satisfied. He lives for the sake of that Brocken spectre, the reflection of himself in the human opinion. You do the same. If you are of high importance to humanity you are of high importance to yourself. That is why you work so hard at the mines. If you can produce coal to cook five thousand dinners a day, you are five thousand times more important than if you cooked only your own dinner. I suppose I am, laughed Gerald. Can t you see, said Birkin, that to help my neighbour to eat is no more than eating myself. I eat, thou eatest, he eats, we eat, you eat, they eat and what then? Why should every man decline the whole verb. First person singular is enough for me. You ve got to start with material things, said Gerald. Which statement Birkin ignored. And we ve got to live for _something_, we re not just cattle that can graze and have done with it, said Gerald. Tell me, said Birkin. What do you live for? Gerald s face went baffled. What do I live for? he repeated. I suppose I live to work, to produce something, in so far as I am a purposive being. Apart from that, I live because I am living. And what s your work? Getting so many more thousands of tons of coal out of the earth every day. And when we ve got all the coal we want, and all the plush furniture, and pianofortes, and the rabbits are all stewed and eaten, and we re all warm and our bellies are filled and we re listening to the young lady performing on the pianoforte what then? What then, when you ve made a real fair start with your material things? Gerald sat laughing at the words and the mocking humour of the other man. But he was cogitating too. We haven t got there yet, he replied. A good many people are still waiting for the rabbit and the fire to cook it. So while you get the coal I must chase the rabbit? said Birkin, mocking at Gerald. Something like that, said Gerald. Birkin watched him narrowly. He saw the perfect good-humoured callousness, even strange, glistening malice, in Gerald, glistening through the plausible ethics of productivity. Gerald, he said, I rather hate you. I know you do, said Gerald. Why do you? Birkin mused inscrutably for some minutes. I should like to know if you are conscious of hating me, he said at last. Do you ever consciously detest me hate me with mystic hate? There are odd moments when I hate you starrily. Gerald was rather taken aback, even a little disconcerted. He did not quite know what to say. I may, of course, hate you sometimes, he said. But I m not aware of it never acutely aware of it, that is. So much the worse, said Birkin. Gerald watched him with curious eyes. He could not quite make him out. So much the worse, is it? he repeated. There was a silence between the two men for some time, as the train ran on. In Birkin s face was a little irritable tension, a sharp knitting of the brows, keen and difficult. Gerald watched him warily, carefully, rather calculatingly, for he could not decide what he was after. Suddenly Birkin s eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? At this moment, I couldn t say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour. Do you think love is the be-all and the end-all of life? Birkin asked, with direct, attentive seriousness. Of my own life? said Gerald. Yes. There was a really puzzled pause. I can t say, said Gerald. It hasn t been, so far. What has your life been, so far? Oh finding out things for myself and getting experiences and making things _go_. Birkin knitted his brows like sharply moulded steel. I find, he said, that one needs some one _really_ pure single activity I should call love a single pure activity. But I _don t_ really love anybody not now. Have you ever really loved anybody? asked Gerald. Yes and no, replied Birkin. Not finally? said Gerald. Finally finally no, said Birkin. Nor I, said Gerald. And do you want to? said Birkin. Gerald looked with a long, twinkling, almost sardonic look into the eyes of the other man. I don t know, he said. I do I want to love, said Birkin. You do? Yes. I want the finality of love. The finality of love, repeated Gerald. And he waited for a moment. Just one woman? he added. The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin s face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. I don t believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald. Not the centre and core of it the love between you and a woman? asked Birkin. Gerald s eyes narrowed with a queer dangerous smile as he watched the other man. I never quite feel it that way, he said. You don t? Then wherein does life centre, for you? I don t know that s what I want somebody to tell me. As far as I can make out, it doesn t centre at all. It is artificially held _together_ by the social mechanism. Birkin pondered as if he would crack something. I know, he said, it just doesn t centre. The old ideals are dead as nails nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman sort of ultimate marriage and there isn t anything else. And you mean if there isn t the woman, there s nothing? said Gerald. Pretty well that seeing there s no God. Then we re hard put to it, said Gerald. And he turned to look out of the window at the flying, golden landscape. Birkin could not help seeing how beautiful and soldierly his face was, with a certain courage to be indifferent. You think its heavy odds against us? said Birkin. If we ve got to make our life up out of a woman, one woman, woman only, yes, I do, said Gerald. I don t believe I shall ever make up _my_ life, at that rate. Birkin watched him almost angrily. You are a born unbeliever, he said. I only feel what I feel, said Gerald. And he looked again at Birkin almost sardonically, with his blue, manly, sharp-lighted eyes. Birkin s eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man. He wanted to be near him, he wanted to be within his sphere of influence. There was something very congenial to him in Birkin. But yet, beyond this, he did not take much notice. He felt that he, himself, Gerald, had harder and more durable truths than any the other man knew. He felt himself older, more knowing. It was the quick-changing warmth and venality and brilliant warm utterance he loved in his friend. It was the rich play of words and quick interchange of feelings he enjoyed. The real content of the words he never really considered: he himself knew better. Birkin knew this. He knew that Gerald wanted to be _fond_ of him without taking him seriously. And this made him go hard and cold. As the train ran on, he sat looking at the land, and Gerald fell away, became as nothing to him. Birkin looked at the land, at the evening, and was thinking: Well, if mankind is destroyed, if our race is destroyed like Sodom, and there is this beautiful evening with the luminous land and trees, I am satisfied. That which informs it all is there, and can never be lost. After all, what is mankind but just one expression of the incomprehensible. And if mankind passes away, it will only mean that this particular expression is completed and done. That which is expressed, and that which is to be expressed, cannot be diminished. There it is, in the shining evening. Let mankind pass away time it did. The creative utterances will not cease, they will only be there. Humanity doesn t embody the utterance of the incomprehensible any more. Humanity is a dead letter. There will be a new embodiment, in a new way. Let humanity disappear as quick as possible. Gerald interrupted him by asking, Where are you staying in London? Birkin looked up. With a man in Soho. I pay part of the rent of a flat, and stop there when I like. Good idea have a place more or less your own, said Gerald. Yes. But I don t care for it much. I m tired of the people I am bound to find there. What kind of people? Art music London Bohemia the most pettifogging calculating Bohemia that ever reckoned its pennies. But there are a few decent people, decent in some respects. They are really very thorough rejecters of the world perhaps they live only in the gesture of rejection and negation but negatively something, at any rate. What are they? painters, musicians? Painters, musicians, writers hangers-on, models, advanced young people, anybody who is openly at outs with

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