Double Indemnity

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

Rate this script:3.5 / 8 votes