From Here to Eternity Page #14

71.

all. He puts the bugle down on the table, embarrassed now,

the violence gone, some of the wrath unloaded.

MEDIUM SHOT AT DOOR

The room is quiet for several moments, except for the

continuing jukebox music, which sounds pale and thin now.

Fatso Judson strolls in, stands at the door. Some of the men

see him, but no one greets him. Fatso threads his way between

tables as the room slowly begins to return to normal and the

men turn back to their beer.

MEDIUM SHOT PREW'S TABLE

as Fatso passes. He stops, leans over Anderson's shoulder to

look at the snapshots on the table. He points to one picture,

a pretty young girl of about fifteen, posing Hollywoodishly

in a bathing suit, cracks his knuckles loudly.

.

FATSO:

Who's that? Who's that dame?

MAGGIO:

(impassively)

My sister.

Fatso whistles. He picks up the photograph, stares at it,

whistles again.

FATSO:

Whoever! Say, she's a real good

piece of whistle bait! I'd sure

like to get my mitts around her.

He laughs complacently at his own wit, tosses the picture on

the table, starts to move on, Maggio rises, picks up the

heavy wooden stool he's been sitting on and smashes it down

on Fatso's head with all his strength,

ANOTHER ANGLE:

as again the laughing and shouting in the room stops

abruptly. Fatso reels a little with the terrible blow but

does not go down.

FATSO:

Why, holy -- I You hit met You hit

me!

MAGGIO:

(calmly)

You bet your life.

(raises stool)

And about to do it again.

72.

FATSO:

(still blinking from the

blow)

What?! But what for? That's no way

to fight!

(reaches hand to head,

brings away blood)

Why, you dirty yellow sneaking --

Wop! You yellow little Wop! If

that's the way you want to play!

With his last sentence, Fatso whips out a knife and snaps

open the blade. The blade is at least five inches long. It

glints evilly as he raises it. There is a concerted whisking

intake of breath from the room. Murder is clear on Fat sots

face.

MEDIUM SHOT NEAR PREW'S TABLE (EXCLUDING WARDEN)

Maggio, holding the stool high, backs up a few feet as Fatso

advances toward him. Men sprawl away from them.

SOLDIER'S VOICE

Hey, it you want to fight, fight

with fists. Take it outsides

There is a murmur of agreement from the crowd. A couple of

men are about to rise. Fatso whirls toward them.

FATSO:

I'm gonna cut this little Wop’s

heart out. Anybody steps in here, I

give it to him first.

MEDIUM SHOT OLD CHOY AND YOUNG CHOY

side by side. Old Choy watches, immobile, his slit eyes

almost closed. Young Choy is shaking with fright.

MEDIUM SHOT FATSO AND MAGGIO

Fatso turns toward Maggio, who circles back around the table

as the other stalks him.

MAGGIO:

(scared but brave; shouts)

I'm gunna de-brain ya, Fatso!

One step closer an I'm gunna kill

ya!

Fatso has his knife poised at his shoulder, ready to strike.

Warden comes into shot suddenly. He brandishes a beer bottle

wildly, looks like an avenging spirit of authority.

73.

WARDEN:

Nobody's gunna do nothin! Anybody's

killin anybody around here, it'll

be me!

Warden snatches another beer bottle from a table, now has one

in each hand. He steps between Fatso and Maggio.

FATSO:

Look outs here, Warden. This a

private affair.

WARDEN:

No it ain't! This man's in my

Compny an I'm responsible for him.

And you ain't makin two weeks extra

paper work for me by killin him.

Nor him you. Put that knife down!

He smashes the neck off one of the beer bottles, points the

wagged edge at Fatso, roars:

WARDEN:

Put it down!

Fatso slowly lowers the knife to his waist, but keeps it

pointed towards Maggio and Warden. Warden deliberately turns

his back to Fatso, spits his words at Maggio.

WARDEN:

Killer! You unweaned punk& Come on,

you want some killing, come on!

(whirls on Fatso)

Come on, barrelbelly. Ain't you

comin?

Neither Fatso nor Maggio moves.

WARDEN:

(with mammoth contempt)

Killers! You’ll get plenty of

killing, all right. More than you

got the stomach for. You'll be in a

war one of these days. When you

feel that lead from a sniper's

rifle hit you between the eyes,

come and tell me how you like it.

Killers!

(turns to Maggio)

Now put down that chair.

Maggio puts down the stool. Warden turns to Fatso.

74.

WARDEN:

Throw that knife on the floor.

Fatso drops the knife. It clatters on the floor. There is

another audible whoosh of breath from the room.

WARDEN:

Almost scared there wasn't anybody

going to stop you for a minute,

weren't you?

(finally lowers his voice)

Is there any other little things

you punks'd like me to take care of

for you?

He drops the beer bottles on a nearby table, strides to his

own table. The room settles back, still hushed. Warden has

broken the mood of certain death, but Fatso, still facing

Maggio, bites off his words with sadistic, ominous venom.

FATSO:

Tough monkey. Hard sister. Guys

like you get to the Stockade sooner

later. One day you walk in there

I'll be waitin. I'll show you a

coupla things.

He walks away, drops into a stool at the counter.

MEDIUM SHOT WARDEN'S TABLE

Warden stands beside the table, watching. He seems satisfied

as Fatso moves away from Maggio. Still standing, he raises

his half-filled bottle of beer, drinks.

MEDIUM SHOT PREW'S TABLE

Maggio drops onto the stool, sidles it over to the table. He

half-whispers to Prew.

MAGGIO:

I made a mistake I guess, but I

don't see how I could of done

anything else, after that big stoop

said a thing like that.

Prew leans over and picks the knife off the floor.

PHEW:

I'll tell you your mistake. You

didn't hit him hard enough to put

him out.

.

75.

MAGGIO:

I hit him hard as I could. His head

must be solid ivory.

In b.g. Warden puts down the beer bottle and stalks towards

the door. Maggio and Prew turn to watch him pass.

MAGGIO:

Anyway, I'm glad he stopped it.

He's a good man, you know it?

As if on impulse, Prew rises and follows Warden out.

EXT. CHOY’S - NIGHT

MEDIUM SHOT:

as Prew carves out. Choy's is on a wide road across from the

entrance to the Post. Prew looks around for Warden, sees him

off to one side. CAMERA MOVES WITH Prew as he goes over to

him.

CLOSE SHOT WARDEN

leaning against the building, undergoing a delayed reaction

to the fierce moment in Choy's. He is white-faced, sweating

heavily. He looks as if he's going to be sick.

CLOSE SHOT PREW:

astonished yet appreciative that under Warden's confidence

and control in Choy's there has been a human frailty.

PREW:

... That was a near thing.

WARDEN:

... Yeah.

Prew holds out Fatso's knife. Warden is beginning to get

control of himself; he manages a weak smile.

WARDEN:

You keep it, kid. Keep it for a

souvenir.

Prew puts the knife in his pocket. They stare at one another

a few moments, each inarticulate, each wanting to express

some deep emotion of respect.

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