Casablanca Page #9

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RICK:

Looking for a job.

Ilsa looks at him tenderly. Rick takes her in his arms, and

kisses her hungrily. While they are locked in an embrace

they hear the dull BOOM of cannons.

ILSA:

(frightened)

Was that cannon fire, or is it my

heart pounding?

56.

RICK:

(grimly)

Ah, that's the new German 77. And

judging by the sound, only about

thirty-five miles away.

Another BOOM from the cannons .

RICK:

And getting closer every minute.

Here. Drink up. We'll never finish

the other three.

SAM:

The Germans '11 be here pretty soon

now, and they'll come looking for

you. And don't forget there's a

price on your head.

Ilsa reacts to this worriedly.

RICK:

I left a note in my apartment.

They'll know where to find me.

Ilsa looks at Rick.

ILSA:

Strange. I know so very little

about you.

RICK:

I know very little about you, just

the fact that you had your teeth

straightened.

He chuckles.

ILSA:

But be serious, darling. You are in

danger and you must leave Paris.

RICK:

No, no, no, no. We must leave.

ILSA:

(seriously)

Yes, of course, we --

RICK:

-- The train for Marseilles leaves

at five o'clock. I'll pick you up

at your hotel at four-thirty.

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ILSA:

(quickly)

No, no. Not at my hotel. I, uh, I

have things to do in the city before

I leave. I'll meet you at the

station, huh?

RICK:

All right. At a quarter to five.

(a thought strikes him)

Say, why don't we get married in

Marseilles?

Rick chuckles again.

ILSA:

(evasively)

That's too far ahead to plan.

RICK:

Yes, I guess it is a little too far

ahead. Well, let's see. What about

the engineer? Why can't he marry us

on the train?

ILSA:

Oh, darling!

Suddenly Ilsa turns away and starts to cry.

RICK:

Well, why not? The captain on a

ship can. It doesn't seem fair

that... Hey, hey, what's wrong,

kid?

ILSA:

I love you so much, and I hate this

war so much. Oh, it's a crazy

world. Anything can happen. If you

shouldn't get away, I mean, if, if

something should keep us apart,

wherever they put you and wherever

I'll be, I want you to know...

She can't go on. She lifts her face to his. He kisses

her gently.

ILSA:

Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the

last time.

He looks into her eyes, then he does kiss her as though

it were going to be the last time.

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Her hand falls to the table and knocks over a glass.

CUT TO:

INT. GARE DE LYON - NIGHT

It's raining very hard at the train station.

There is a hectic, fevered excitement, evident in the faces

of the people that pass by. This is the last train from Paris.

Rick appears in the crowd. He stops and puts his suitcase down

and glances at his watch.

A conductor calls out "All aboard, last train leaving in

three minutes."

Rain pours over his head and shoulders, but he doesn't seem to

notice. He nervously checks his watch again.

Suddenly Sam appears.

RICK:

Where is she? Have you seen her?

SAM:

No, Mr. Richard. I can't find her.

She checked out of the hotel. But

this note came just after you left.

Sam pulls an envelope from his pocket. Rick grabs it, opens

it, and stares down at the letter.

INSERT LETTER:

Richard,

I cannot go with you or ever see you

again. You must not ask why. Just

believe that I love you. Go, my

darling, and God bless you.

Ilsa

Raindrops pour down the letter, smudging the writing.

BACK TO SCENE:

A whistle BLOWS.

SAM:

(frantically)

That's the last call, Mr. Richard,

59.

do you hear me? Come on, Mr.

Richard. Let's get out of here.

Come on, Mr. Richard, come on.

Sam pulls a stunned, reluctant Rick to the train. The train

starts to move just as he boards.

From the steps he looks off into the distance, then crumbles

the letter and tosses it away as the steam from the engine

clouds over him.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. RICK'S CAFE - MAIN ROOM - NIGHT

Close-up of a glass on the table in the cafe. Rick's hand

reaches for it and knocks it over. We now see Rick's face

and he's very drunk.

Sam walks over to the table to pick up the glass and a

fallen chair.

Just then the door opens and it's Ilsa. Rick stares at

the doorway. Ilsa lingers a moment, then comes over to

the table.

ILSA:

Rick, I have to talk to you.

Her manner is a little uncertain, a little tentative, but

with a quiet determination beneath it.

RICK:

Oh. I saved my first drink to have

with you. Here.

ILSA:

No. No, Rick. Not tonight.

RICK:

Especially tonight.

She sits down in the chair before the empty glass. Her eyes

are searching his face, but there is no expression on it

except a cold and impassive one.

Rick reaches for the bottle, and pours himself another drink.

ILSA:

Please .

RICK:

Why did you have to come to Casablanca?

There are other places.

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ILSA:

I wouldn't have come if I had known

that you were here. Believe me,

Rick, it's true. I didn't know.

RICK:

It's funny about your voice, how it

hasn't changed. I can still hear

it. "Richard dear, I'll go with you

any place. We'll get on a train

together and never stop."

ILSA:

Please don't. Don't, Rick. I can

understand how you feel.

RICK:

Huh! You understand how I feel.

How long was it we had, honey?

ILSA:

I didn't count the days.

RICK:

Well, I did. Every one of them.

Mostly I remember the last one. A

wow finish. A guy standing on a

station platform in the rain with a

comical look on his face, because

his insides had been kicked out.

He takes a drink.

ILSA:

Can I tell you a story, Rick?

RICK:

Has it got a wow finish?

ILSA:

I don't know the finish yet.

RICK:

Well, go on, tell it. Maybe one

will come to you as you go along.

ILSA:

It ' s about a girl who had just come

to Paris from her home in Oslo. At

the house of some friends she met a

man about whom she'd heard her whole

life, a very great and courageous

man. He opened up for her a whole

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beautiful world full of knowledge

and thoughts and ideals. Everything

she knew or ever became was because

of him. And she looked up to him

and worshipped him with a feeling

she supposed was love.

RICK:

Yes, that's very pretty. I heard a

story once. As a matter of fact,

I've heard a lot of stories in my

time. They went along with the

sound of a tinny piano playing in

the parlor downstairs, "Mister, I

met a man once when I was a kid, "

it ' d always begin. Huh. I guess

neither one of our stories was very

funny. Tell me, who was it you left

me for? Was it Laszlo, or were

there others in between? Or aren't

you the kind that tells?

Ilsa gets up and leaves.

Rick's head slumps over the table.

CUT TO:

INT. RENAULT'S OFFICE - MORNING

A sign on the door reads: Captain Renault, Prefect de Police.

Strasser sits while Renault attends to some paperwork.

STRASSER:

I strongly suspect that Ugarte left

the letters of transit with Mr.

Blaine. I would suggest you search

the cafe immediately and thoroughly.

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