1776
- G
- Year:
- 1972
- 141 min
- 11,044 Views
1
Mr. Adams!
Mr. Adams!
There you are.
Didn't you hear me
call you, Mr. Adams?
You could've shouted down something,
saved me climbing up four flights.
A man that likes to talk as
much as you do, I'd think...
What do you keep coming
up here for, Mr. Adams?
Afraid someone's going to steal our bell?
Well, don't worry.
Been here more than 14 years, and
ain't been carried off once.
Better get yourself back
down to Congress, Mr. Adams.
Getting ready to vote,
and they said
they couldn't settle
such an important question
without Massachusetts
being there.
I can just imagine.
All right, what burning issue
are we voting on this time?
On whether or not to grant
General Washington's request
that all members of the Rhode
Island Militia be required
to wear matching uniforms.
Oh, good God.
I have come to the conclusion
that one useless man
is called a disgrace,
that two are called a law firm,
and that three or more
become a Congress.
And, by God,
I have had this Congress.
For 10 years, King George
and his parliament
have gulled, cullied and diddled these
colonies with their illegal taxes.
Stamp Acts, Townshend Acts,
Sugar Acts, Tea Acts.
And when we dared
stand up like men,
they have stopped our trade,
seized our ships,
blockaded our ports,
burned our towns,
and spilled our blood.
And still this Congress
refuses to grant
any of my proposals
on independence
even so much as the
courtesy of open debate.
Good God, what in the hell
are you waiting for?
Sit down, John Sit down, John
Thomas, for God's sake,
listen to me.
For God's sake John, sit down
I've had enough of you, sir.
Sit down, John Sit down, John
For God's sake, John, sit down
Someone ought to
open up a window
Will you listen to me
and forget the window?
It's 90 degrees
Have mercy, John, please
It's hot as hell in Philadelphia
Someone ought to
open up a window
I say vote yes
Vote yes
Vote for independency
Someone ought to
open up a window
I say vote yes
Sit down, John
Vote for independency
Someone ought to
open up a window
No, no, no!
Too many flies, too many flies
But it's hot as hell
in Philadelphia
Are you gonna open up a window?
Can't we compromise here?
Vote yes
No, too many flies here
Vote yes
Oh, for God's sake,
John, sit down
Good God.
Consider yourselves fortunate
that you have
John Adams to abuse,
for no sane man
would tolerate it.
John, you're a bore
We've heard this before
Now, for God's sake,
John, sit down
I say vote yes No!
Vote yes No!
Vote for independency
Someone ought to
open up a window
I say vote yes
Sit down, John
Vote for independency
Will someone shut that man up?
Never!
Dear God.
For one solid year
they have been sitting here.
A whole year!
Doing nothing!
I do believe you've laid
A curse that we here now
rehearse in Philadelphia
A second flood, a simple famine
Plagues of locusts everywhere
Or a cataclysmic earthquake
I'd accept with some despair
But, no, you've sent us Congress
Good God, sir, was that fair?
I say this with humility
in Philadelphia
We're your responsibility
in Philadelphia
if you don't want to see us hanging
from some far off British hill
if you don't want the voice of
independency forever stilled
Then God, Sir, get thee to it
You see, we piddle,
twiddle and resolve
Not one damn thing do we solve
Piddle, twiddle and resolve
Nothing's ever solved
In foul, fetid, fuming,
foggy, filthy
Philadelphia
Someone ought to
open up a window
Oh, shut up.
I now call Congress' attention
to the petition of Mr. Melchior Meng,
who claims $20 compensation
for his dead mule.
employed transporting luggage
in the service of Congress.
The question, then, would
appear to be one of occasion.
For if the mule
expired not while carrying,
then clearly the beast dropped
dead on its own time.
Oh, good God.
They may sit here for years
and years in Philadelphia
These indecisive
grenadiers of Philadelphia
They can't agree on what is right
and wrong or what is good or bad
I'm convinced the only purpose
this Congress ever had
was to gather here specifically
You see, we piddle,
twiddle and resolve
Not one damn thing do we solve
Piddle, twiddle and resolve
Nothing's ever solved
In foul, fetid,
fuming, foggy, filthy
Philadelphia
John, John
Is that you carrying on, John?
Oh, Abigail, Abigail, I have such
a desire to knock heads together.
Then why in heaven's
name do you stay there?
Come home to Boston, John.
It's only 300 miles.
If you left tonight, you could
be here in only eight days.
How can I do that, Abigail?
I was when I first came here.
I know, my dearest. I know.
But that's because you make
everything so complicated.
It's all quite simple, really.
Just tell the Congress
to declare
Independency
Then sign your name
get out of there
And hurry home to me
Our children all have dysentery
Little Abby has the measles
And I'm coming down with flu
They say we may get smallpox
Madam, what else is new?
Abigail, in my last letter,
I wrote you
that the king had collected
12,000 German mercenaries
to send against us.
I asked you to
organize the ladies
to make saltpeter for gunpowder.
Now, have you done as I asked?
No, John, I have not.
Well, why have you not?
Because you neglected to tell
us how saltpeter is made.
By treating sodium nitrate with
potassium chloride, of course.
Oh, yes, of course.
Will it be done, then?
John, I'm afraid we have
a more urgent problem.
More urgent, madam?
There's one thing every woman's
missed in Massachusetts Bay
Don't smirk at me, you egotist
Pay heed to what I say
We've gone from
Framingham to Boston
And we cannot find a pin
"Don't you know
there's a war on"
Say the tradesmen with a grin
Well, we will not make saltpeter
Until you send us pins
Pins, madam? Saltpeter.
Pins.
Saltpeter.
Pins.
Saltpeter.
Pins.
'Peter.
Pins.
'Peter. 'Peter.
Pins. Pins.
'Peter!
Pins.
Done, madam, done.
Done, John.
Hurry home, John.
As soon as I'm able.
Don't stop writing.
It's all I have.
Every day, my dearest friend.
Till then
Till then Till then
I am I am
As I ever was As I ever was
And ever shall be
And ever shall be
Yours Yours
Saltpeter
John
Pins
Abigail
For God's sake, John
Sit down
Franklin!
Franklin!
Where in hell are you?
Franklin!
I see you hiding
behind that tree.
It won't do you any good.
Damn it, this is no time
for playing games.
Franklin, I have been
looking everywhere for you.
Where in God's name
have you been?
Right here, John, being
preserved for posterity.
Do you like it?
It stinks.
As ever, the soul of tact.
Well, the man's no Botticelli.
And the subject's no Venus.
Franklin, where were you last
night when I needed you?
You should have heard
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"1776" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/1776_1574>.
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