It's a Wonderful Life Page #20

GEORGE (rising from chair)

Families! I don't want the families over here!

Mary leads him out toward the kitchen.

MARY:

Come on out in the kitchen with me while I finish dinner.

They exit with Tommy hanging onto George's coat-tails, and

pulling at him. CAMERA PANS WITH them.

TOMMY:

Excuse me . . . excuse me . . .

INTERIOR HALL �� NIGHT

CLOSE SHOT �� as they go toward kitchen.

MARY:

Have a hectic day?

GEORGE (bitterly)

Oh, yeah, another big red letter day for the Baileys.

PETE:

Daddy, the Browns next door have a new car. You should see it.

GEORGE (turns on him)

Well, what's the matter with our car? Isn't it good enough for

you?

PETE:

Yes, Daddy.

TOMMY (tugging at coat)

Excuse me, excuse me . . .

INTERIOR KITCHEN �� NIGHT

CLOSE SHOT �� They come through the door.

GEORGE (annoyed)

Excuse you for what?

TOMMY:

I burped!

MARY:

All right, darling, you're excused. Now go upstairs and see what

little Zuzu wants.

Tommy leaves, and Mary turns to the stove.

GEORGE:

Zuzu! What's the matter with Zuzu?

MARY:

Oh, she's got a cold. She's in bed. Caught it coming home from

school. They gave her a flower for a prize and she didn't want to

crush it so she didn't

button up her coat.

GEORGE:

What is it, a sore throat or what?

MARY:

Just a cold. The doctor says it's nothing serious.

GEORGE:

The doctor? Was the doctor here?

MARY:

Yes, I called him right away. He says it's nothing to worry

about.

GEORGE:

Is she running a temperature? What is it?

MARY:

Just a teensie one �� ninety-nine, six. She'll be all right.

George paces about the kitchen, worried.

GEORGE:

Gosh, it's this old house. I don't know why we don't all have

pneumonia. This drafty old barn! Might as well be living in a

refrigerator. Why did we have

to live here in the first place and stay around this measly,

crummy old town?

MARY (worried)

George, what's wrong?

GEORGE:

Wrong? Everything's wrong! You call this a happy family? Why did

we have to have all these kids?

PETE (coming in)

Dad, how do you spell "frankincense"?

GEORGE (shouts)

I don't know. Ask your mother.

George goes toward doorway.

MARY:

Where're you going?

GEORGE:

Going up to see Zuzu.

We hear his footsteps as he leaves. Mary looks after him, puzzled

and concerned, then comes over to Pete.

PETE:

He told me to write a play for tonight.

MARY:

F-R-A-N-K-I-N . . .

INTERIOR HALL �� NIGHT

MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT �� George starts up the stairs. The knob on the

banister comes off in his hand, and for a moment he has an

impulse to hurl it

into the living room. Then, he replaces the knob, and goes on up

the stairs.

INTERIOR ZUZU'S BEDROOM �� NIGHT

FULL SHOT �� The SOUND of Janie at the piano can be heard, the

same monotonous rhythm over and over. Zuzu (aged six) is sitting

up in her bed, the

lamp burning beside her. She is holding her prize flower. George

tiptoes in. Then, as he sees she's awake, he comes over, sitting

on the edge of her bed.

ZUZU:

Hi, Daddy.

GEORGE:

Well, what happened to you?

ZUZU:

I won a flower.

She starts to get out of bed.

GEORGE:

Wait now. Where do you think you're going?

ZUZU:

Want to give my flower a drink.

GEORGE:

All right, all right. Here, give Daddy the flower. I'll give it a

drink.

She shakes her head and presses the flower to her. A few petals

fall off. She picks them up.

ZUZU:

Look, Daddy . . . paste it.

GEORGE:

Yeah, all right. Now, I'll paste this together.

She hands him the fallen petals and the flower. He turns his back

to Zuzu, pretending to be tinkering with the flower. He sticks

the fallen petals in his

watch pocket, rearranges the flower, and then turns back to Zuzu.

GEORGE:

There it is, good as new.

ZUZU:

Give the flower a drink.

George puts the flower in a glass of water on the table beside

her bed.

GEORGE:

Now, will you do something for me?

CLOSE-UP �� George and Zuzu. They whisper.

ZUZU:

What?

GEORGE:

Will you try to get some sleep?

ZUZU:

I'm not sleepy. I want to look at my flower.

GEORGE:

I know �� I know, but you just go to sleep, and then you can

dream about it, and it'll be a whole garden.

ZUZU:

It will?

GEORGE:

Uh-huh.

She closes her eyes and relaxes on the bed. George pulls the

covers over her. He bends down and his lips touch a tendril of

the child's hair. Then he gets

up and tiptoes out of the room.

INTERIOR LIVING ROOM �� NIGHT

CLOSE SHOT �� Janie is still pounding with grim determination at

the piano. Pete is seated at the table writing. Tommy is playing

with his toy vacuum

cleaner. The telephone rings.

JANIE AND PETE:

Telephone.

INTERIOR LIVING ROOM �� NIGHT

CLOSE SHOT �� Mary comes in and picks up the phone.

MARY:

I'll get it.

(on phone) Hello. Yes, this is Mrs. Bailey.

George enters shot, and stands listening to her.

MARY (cont'd)

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Welch. I'm sure she'll be all right. The

doctor says that she ought to be out of bed in time to have her

Christmas dinner.

GEORGE:

Is that Zuzu's teacher?

MARY (hand over receiver)

Yes.

GEORGE:

Let me speak to her.

He snatches the phone from Mary.

GEORGE (cont'd)

(on phone)

Hello. Hello, Mrs. Welch? This is George Bailey. I'm Zuzu's

father. Say, what kind of a teacher are you anyway? What do you

mean sending her home

like that, half-naked? Do you realize she'll probably end up with

pneumonia on account of you?

MARY (shocked)

George!

She puts a restraining hand on his arm. He shakes it off. She

cannot know that George's tirade against Mrs. Welch is really a

tirade against the world,

against life itself, against God. Over the phone we hear Mrs.

Welch's voice sputtering with protest.

GEORGE:

Is this the sort of thing we pay taxes for �� to have teachers

like you? Silly, stupid, careless people who send our kids home

without any clothes on?

You know, maybe my kids aren't the best-dressed kids; maybe they

don't have any decent clothes . . .

Mary succeeds in wresting the phone from George's hand.

GEORGE (cont'd)

Aw, that stupid . . .

Mary speaks quickly in to the phone.

MARY:

Hello, Mrs. Welch. I want to apologize . . . hello . . . hello .

. .

(to George)

She's hung up.

GEORGE (savagely)

I'll hang her up!

But the telephone is suddenly alive with a powerful male voice

calling:

MR. WELCH'S VOICE

Now, who do you think you are?

George hears this and grabs the receiver from Mary.

GEORGE (to Mary)

Wait a minute.

(on phone) Hello? Who is this? Oh, Mr. Welch? Okay, that's fine,

Mr. Welch. Gives me a chance to tell you what I really think of

your wife.

Mary once more tries to take the phone from him.

MARY:

George . . .

GEORGE (raving at her)

Will you get out and let me handle this?

(into phone �� shouting)

Hello? Hello? What? Oh, you will, huh? Okay, Mr. Welch, any time

you think you're man enough . . . Hello? Any . . .

But before he can think of an insult to top Welch's, we hear a

click on the phone.

GEORGE:

Oh . . .

He hangs up the receiver, and turns toward the living room. His

face is flushed and wet.

PETE:

Daddy, how do you spell "Hallelujah"?

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