Convicts Page #4

Synopsis: In 1902 Texas, 13-year-old Horace goes to work on old Soll's farm to earn enough money to buy a headstone for his father's grave. Unfortunately for Horace, Soll's senility, ill health, and obsession with the convict labor he uses to work the farm, make it unlikely that Horace will ever be paid the $12.50 Soll owes him for 6 months work.
Genre: Drama
Director(s): Peter Masterson
Production: MGM
 
IMDB:
5.9
NOT RATED
Year:
1991
93 min
184 Views


go back. Pick him up.

Who's buried here? Who

the hell am I sitting on?

I think that's the convict that

the Sheriff shot this morning, sir.

I know who I'm sitting on.

- Sir?

- I know.

I think his name is Leroy, sir.

I know who it is. It's

a woman named Verna.

I know who it is.

You crazy son of a b*tch.

Where are you hiding?

Uncle Soll!

- Where you taking me?

- Up to the house.

I'm going hunting.

How'll you hunt as drunk as you

are? You're getting put to bed.

No, I'll be goddamned

if I'm gonna be.

Come near me, I'll kill

you. Get out of here!

Stay away from me.

Go on.

I want the white boy to stay. He's

the only one around here I trust.

Don't cross him when he's

drunk. Go ahead. Stay with him.

- I'm scared of him.

- He ain't gonna hurt you. Just go ahead.

He's too drunk to pull the trigger

on that damn gun. Now go ahead.

- What's your name again?

- Horace, sir.

What are you crying for?

- I'm scared, sir.

- What are you scared of?

I don't know, sir.

You scared the convicts

will get loose one night?

Help me up.

Come over there and kill you?

I don't know, sir.

What are you scared of then?

A lot of things, sir.

Come here. You're a good boy.

Merry Christmas!

Tyre's wife is a jackass. "I want

my girls to be educated," she said.

"Everybody should be educated, no

matter what color their skin is."

"What for?" I said. "I ain't

educated. Your husband ain't.

"We knew enough to come here...

"get a hold of 8,000 acres of the

richest land in the whole goddamn world.

"We can grow three

crops a year here."

Albert says you came

out here to work.

So you could buy a tombstone

for your daddy's grave.

Yes, sir.

Well, I'm gonna buy it for you.

I'm gonna buy the biggest

goddamn tombstone in Texas.

I'll put angels on it. And

two Confederate veterans.

Was your daddy a Confederate veteran?

No, he was born after the war.

I was a veteran. I fought in

every goddamn battle they'd let me.

What were we talking about?

- A tombstone for my daddy's grave.

- Yeah.

I'll put "Rest In Peace" on it

and three verses from the Bible.

Have you seen the tombstones

I had put up out here?

No, sir.

Tomorrow first thing, I'll take

you over to my family graveyard.

You pick out the tombstone you

like and I'll have it copied...

put it on your daddy's grave.

Over yonder, that's all my

land out there, see. All mine.

Hold this.

- You know my brother Tyre?

- I've seen him.

Accused me of cheating him.

"Why would I cheat you," I said. "I

got all the land and money I want."

"Give me half and you take half," he said.

"My wife is against working convicts."

Then I said, "You'll

never get the work done."

Took him two years to find out.

Next thing I heard, he

had his own convicts.

Who's that over there

crossing the back field?

Nobody.

Merry Christmas.

Uncle!

Uncle, you want any supper?

- No.

- It's Christmas Eve.

I don't give a goddamn what day it

is. If I wanted supper, I'd tell you.

- Where you going?

- I'm going hunting.

What are you going hunting

for this time of day?

Convicts. There's three

of them that have escaped.

- There's no damn convicts loose.

- And you're a goddamn liar.

And you're crazy.

You drunk so much whiskey,

it finally made you crazy.

And you're a whore.

My brother said, "You son of a b*tch,

you're childless. I have two daughters."

"Two whores," I said. "Two

no-good, sluttish whores!"

You! Leave him alone.

I hope he broke his goddamn

neck. Did you hear me?

I hope you broke your goddamn neck.

You'll get nothing of mine.

Ben and Martha are to have it

all. Are there witnesses here?

Who wants any of your goddamn land?

I have all the goddamn land I want.

Ben and Martha.

Faithful and trustworthy.

The convicts are all around.

Hand me my gun, please.

Allow me to defend myself.

Don't leave me here alone,

defenseless, to have my throat cut.

I sleep with my gun beside me.

Now, where's that boy?

Where's that white boy?

Come here. Don't leave me.

Tomorrow first thing, we'll

go to my family graveyard...

and pick out the tombstone

you like. I'll have it copied.

Put on your daddy's grave.

What's your name, boy?

- Horace, sir.

- Oh, yeah.

You're going to sleep in my room tonight.

I'll have my gun and you'll have yours.

No damn convicts will

get near us, right?

Mr. Soll wants you up at the house.

- Is he gonna give him his money?

- Jackson didn't say.

He just said that he wouldn't give him

any peace until he got him up there.

Better go on, Horace.

- Well, let him finish his supper first.

- Come on now.

What happened? Did he die on you?

Horace, over here!

Coming, Jackson.

Come on.

He's asleep now.

Every time he wakes up, he

ask for you to come over.

He's driving me crazy asking

for you to come over here.

He says he wants a white

person with him when he dies.

Where are Miss Asa and Mr. Billy?

They went over to her daddy's place.

Is he dying?

That's what he says.

But I don't believe him.

I've heard it all before.

Don't leave, Jackson. I don't

wanna be here alone when he dies.

He's not gonna die.

He just talks about it.

Too mean to die.

- I don't want to die, do you?

- No.

I was thinking coming up here...

of that convict, Leroy,

dying this morning.

He said it meant nothing to him.

I was thinking, when I die, maybe

I can go to Heaven and see my daddy.

But as much as I would like to see him,

I wouldn't want to have to die to do it.

Here's another one for you, Ben.

Billy, wake up. We're at papa's.

Lena!

There. Cobb!

Ya'll come on and help me

get Billy into the house.

He's passed out again, Cobb.

You got him there?

Jackson?

That white boy's here.

Tell him to come in

where I can see him.

Did they tell you I was dying?

Yes, sir.

Has anyone sent for a

doctor to come see me?

Miss Asa said she's gonna send a

doctor when she got back to town.

She's a damn liar. She

won't send nobody out here.

She wants to see me dead so she

can claim all this for herself...

and her no-good father.

There were three of us

Gauthier boys, you know.

There was Tyre, Melvin and me.

Tyre poisoned Melvin, you know.

At least, he had him poisoned.

Paid a man to mix some jimsonweed

in his food and he poisoned him.

He denied it of course, up

and down. But I know he did it.

'Cause I have it carved

right on Melvin's tombstone.

"Poisoned by his brother Tyre...

"whose motive was greed."

Come closer, boy. Come

over here. Sit here.

I'm dying. Did they tell you that?

Yes, sir.

You ever watch an old man die?

No, sir.

Promise you won't leave me alone after

I die till they get me in my coffin.

'Cause there are wild

varmints out here.

I knew a man that died out here.

They went off and

left his body alone...

while they went for the coffin

or the preacher or something.

Then they came back to the body...

and the varmints had come

and tore it all apart.

What kind of varmints?

I don't know. Wildcats.

Wolves. God knows what all.

Don't let that happen to me.

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Horton Foote

Albert Horton Foote Jr. (March 14, 1916 – March 4, 2009) was an American playwright and screenwriter, perhaps best known for his screenplays for the 1962 film To Kill a Mockingbird and the 1983 film Tender Mercies, and his notable live television dramas during the Golden Age of Television. He received the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 1995 for his play The Young Man From Atlanta and two Academy Awards, one for an original screenplay, Tender Mercies, and one for adapted screenplay, To Kill a Mockingbird. In 1995, Foote was the inaugural recipient of the Austin Film Festival's Distinguished Screenwriter Award. In describing his three-play work, The Orphans' Home Cycle, the drama critic for the Wall Street Journal said this: "Foote, who died last March, left behind a masterpiece, one that will rank high among the signal achievements of American theater in the 20th century." In 2000, he was awarded the National Medal of Arts. more…

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