Hail, Caesar! Page #15

The near-empty lobby of a grand theater. A latecoming

gentleman and his wife are opening the auditorium door to

enter, the movie’s soundtrack fanning up as they do so.

VOICE-OVER

In livelier precincts, the swells

of Dreamland gather to inspect the

complicated weave of another piece

of gossamer...

86.

INSIDE:

Hobie and Carlotta are watching the movie.

VOICE-OVER

... Another movie, another portion

of balm for the ache of a toiling

mankind.

Hobie leans in to Carlotta.

HOBIE:

Don’t know ’bout this part, they

only gimme one shot at the song.

ONSCREEN:

EXT. BUNKHOUSE - NIGHT

It is evening. A pretty young woman converses through a

cookhouse window with a grizzled old man in the yard. The

man——Curly——wears the union suit and the bent-back hatbrim of

a Western sidekick.

Someone offscreen is lazily chording a guitar.

CURLY:

It wasn't my fault you saw me take

the pie off the sill Miz McGraw.

WOMAN:

Not your fault! Whose fault was it,

Curly?

CURLY:

Why, that crazy full moon! Two

weeks ago you'd a never seen me

take it!

Laughter from the audience as Curly stomps over to the man

playing guitar:
Hobie, relaxing on a tipped-back chair on the

bunkhouse porch.

CURLY (CONT’D)

Durn that moon! What good is she

anyhow! Wish there never was no

moon! Wish there warn't no bossy

old women!

HOBIE:

Don’t blame that moon, Curly. She

can’t do nothin’ but shine!

87.

The guitar intro has ended and Hobie launches into the first

verse of “Lazy Ol' Moon.” He looks up at the moon,

occasionally looks back to the pretty woman in the window who

listens, smiling.

As the verse ends we cut to Curly elsewhere in the yard,

looking angrily down at something off:

CURLY:

Durn you! You turned Curly Strimlin

over to the authorities for the

last time!

We cut over his shoulder: he is addressing a reflection of

the moon in a watering trough. He now dives in with hands

outstretched as if to throttle the reflection.

Hobie sings on. Curly sits up in the trough sputtering and

looks around, stymied and irate.

CURLY (CONT’D)

Durn! Where'd she go?!

Roaring laughter from the audience.

EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES OFFICE BUILDINGS - NIGHT

Eddie Mannix pulls up in his Packard. It is late night; the

street is deserted except for one swank parked car, a cream-

colored luxury sedan, that stands out on this less-than-swank

street. The car’s uniformed driver leans against the hood

smoking.

INT. INSIDE OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT

A wooden stairway. On the risers are painted the names of the

building’s business tenants. Eddie Mannix trudges up the

stairs in fedora and trenchcoat with collar turned up.

INT. OFFICE BUILDING HALLWAY - NIGHT

It is lined by doors with transom windows. Lettering on the

pebbled glass of each office door identifies its occupant.

One office only shows light from inside:

JOSEPH SILVERMAN

SURETIES/BONDS/ESCROW

88.

INT. JOE SILVERMAN’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Eddie taps at the door.

It is opened by Sid Sieglestein, the studio lawyer. An inner-

office door, standing open, shows Joe Silverman sitting at

his desk; mid-thirties and, like his office, low-rent but

neat and utterly without character.

DeeAnna Moran sits across from him in a cream-colored dress

that matches her car outside, and a black hat and veil. She

has a cigarette in one hand and with the other signs a

document in multiple places as Joe, leaning across the desk,

turns pages and points.

SID:

We just got started——I’ve been

taking DeeAnna through this.

They are joining the two in the inner office, Sid now

addressing DeeAnna.

... So Joseph has done——well, just

a whole lot of good work for us in

the past. Whenever we’ve needed a

witness or a third party for, I

don’t know——a petition of grievance

or alienation of affection.

DeeAnna sneaks looks at Joe as she signs pages.

DEEANNA:

And he’s reliable?

The man shows no resentment of the question and indeed no

affect at all:

JOE:

I’m bonded, miss.

SID:

Joe is the most reliable human

being on the planet, in our

experience. When Chubby Cregar was

intoxicated and hit a pedestrian on

Gower, we had his vehicle title

transferred to Joe’s name and Joe

did six months in the LA County

lock-up.

DEEANNA:

But you’re off the sauce now?

89.

JOE:

I never touch it, miss. It was a

legal fiction.

EDDIE:

That’s exactly right. When the

studio needs somebody who meets the

legal standard of, uh——how did you

put it, Sid?

SID:

Personhood.

EDDIE:

Yeah. Joe steps in and acts as the,

uh... person.

DEEANNA:

So you’re a professional——person?

JOE:

That’s right, miss. And initial

here, and here.

SID:

Joe will be the foster parent until

such time as you adopt the child,

which you can do as soon as Joe

takes possession of it.

DEEANNA:

And he’s reliable?

JOE:

I’m bonded, miss.

SID:

The release papers you’re signing

are not public record. All these

documents remain sealed until the

year two thousand and fifteen.

Joe takes the document and slides its last page into an

embosser and squeezes.

DEEANNA:

No one the wiser?

SID:

No one the wiser. No fans, no court

officials——not even a notary

public.

90.

EDDIE:

Joe himself is the notary.

DeeAnna examines Joe who is tensed, squeezing with both

hands.

DEEANNA:

You must have strong forearms. Is

it hard, squeezing like that?

JOE:

It’s part of the job.

EXT. STUDIO GATE - NIGHT

Scotty the guard leans out, tipping his cap, as the Packard

pulls up.

SCOTTY:

Late night, Mr. Mannix?

EDDIE:

Late night for both of us. Will you

call Projection Seven and have’m

lace up yesterday’s dailies on

“Hail, C.sar!”

SCOTTY:

Sure thing. Yesterday’s.

EDDIE:

Yeah, thanks Scotty.

INT. SCREENING ROOM - NIGHT

Eddie Mannix sits slumped, hand cupped to forehead, light

flickering onto him from the screen. Natalie sits on his far

side with her clipboard, waiting for his attention.

EXT. WELL OF JEHOSAPHAT SET - DAY

Onscreen:
we pull Baird Whitlock, in his Roman tribune's

wardrobe, as he marches angrily up a line of parched and

dusty slaves clamoring for water. Baird curses and exclaims

“Romans before slaves!” as he bats aside those waiting.

As he reaches the front of the line our pull back has brought

into frame the man giving out water with a dipper. This man,

whom we see only from behind, wears a simple robe and has

perfectly arranged shoulder-length blond hair, slightly wavy.

91.

Baird/Autolochus——once more exclaiming “Roman's before

slaves!”——intercepts the dipper which the blond man is

handing to a slave. Autolochus is about to drink himself

when he takes in the countenance of the blond water-giver.

Something in the man's face and manner strikes Autolochus

mightily. He takes a staggering step backward, in awe.

Close on Baird, his face displaying progressive waves of awe,

puzzlement, hope, and ineffable wonder.

A flash frame and a slate for “Hail, C.sar, Twenty-Seven

Baker Two.”

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