It's a Wonderful Life Page #23

GEORGE (offhand)

Very funny.

CLARENCE:

Your lip's bleeding, George.

George's hand goes to his mouth.

GEORGE:

Yeah, I got a bust in the jaw in answer to a prayer a little bit

ago.

CLARENCE (comes around to George)

Oh, no �� no �� no. I'm the answer to your prayer. That's why I

was sent down here.

GEORGE (casually interested)

How do you know my name?

CLARENCE:

Oh, I know all about you. I've watched you grow up from a little

boy.

GEORGE:

What are you, a mind reader or something?

CLARENCE:

Oh, no.

GEORGE:

Well, who are you, then?

CLARENCE:

Clarence Odbody, A-S-2.

GEORGE:

Odbody . . . A-S-2. What's that A-S-2?

CLARENCE:

Angel, Second Class.

The tollkeeper's chair slips out from under him with a crash. He

has been leaning against the wall on it, tipped back on two legs.

Tollkeeper rises and

makes his way warily out the door. From his expression he looks

like he'll call the nearest cop.

CLARENCE (cont'd)

(to tollkeeper)

Cheerio, my good man.

George rubs his head with his hand, to clear his mind.

GEORGE:

Oh, brother. I wonder what Martini put in those drinks?

He looks up at Clarence standing beside him.

GEORGE (cont'd)

Hey, what's with you? What did you say just a minute ago? Why'd

you want to save me?

CLARENCE:

That's what I was sent down for. I'm your guardian angel.

GEORGE:

I wouldn't be a bit surprised.

CLARENCE:

Ridiculous of you to think of killing yourself for money. Eight

thousand dollars.

GEORGE (bewildered)

Yeah . . . just things like that. Now how'd you know that?

CLARENCE:

I told you �� I'm your guardian angel. I know everything about

you.

GEORGE:

Well, you look about like the kind of an angel I'd get. Sort of a

fallen angel, aren't you? What happened to your wings?

CLARENCE:

I haven't won my wings yet. That's why I'm an angel Second Class.

GEORGE:

I don't know whether I like it very much being seen around with

an angel without any wings.

CLARENCE:

Oh, I've got to earn them, and you'll help me, won't you?

GEORGE (humoring him)

Sure, sure. How?

CLARENCE:

By letting me help you.

GEORGE:

Only one way you can help me. You don't happen to have eight

thousand bucks on you?

CLARENCE:

Oh, no, no. We don't use money in Heaven.

GEORGE:

Oh, that's right, I keep forgetting. Comes in pretty handy down

here, bub.

CLARENCE:

Oh, tut, tut, tut.

GEORGE:

I found it out a little late. I'm worth more dead than alive.

CLARENCE:

Now look, you mustn't talk like that. I won't get my wings with

that attitude. You just don't know all that you've done. If it

hadn't been for you . . .

GEORGE (interrupts)

Yeah, if it hadn't been for me, everybody'd be a lot better off.

My wife, and my kids and my friends.

(annoyed with Clarence)

Look, little fellow, go off and haunt somebody else, will you?

CLARENCE:

No, you don't understand. I've got my job . . .

GEORGE (savagely)

Aw, shut up, will you.

Clarence is not getting far with George. He glances up, paces

across the room, thoughtfully.

CLARENCE (to himself)

Hmmm, this isn't going to be so easy.

(to George)

So you still think killing yourself would make everyone feel

happier, eh?

GEORGE (dejectedly)

Oh, I don't know. I guess you're right. I suppose it would have

been better if I'd never been born at all.

CLARENCE:

What'd you say?

GEORGE:

I said I wish I'd never been born.

CLARENCE:

Oh, you mustn't say things like that. You . . .

(gets an idea)

. . . wait a minute. Wait a minute. That's an idea.

(glances up toward Heaven)

What do you think? Yeah, that'll do it. All right.

(to George)

You've got your wish. You've never been born.

As Clarence speaks this line, the snow stops falling outside the

building, a strong wind springs up which blows open the door to

the shack. Clarence runs

to close the door.

CLARENCE (cont'd)

(looking upward)

You don't have to make all that fuss about it.

As Clarence speaks, George c*cks his head curiously, favoring his

deaf ear, more interested in his hearing than in what Clarence

has said.

GEORGE:

What did you say?

CLARENCE:

You've never been born. You don't exist. You haven't a care in

the world.

George feels his ear as Clarence talks.

CLARENCE (cont'd)

No worries �� no obligations �� no eight thousand dollars to get

�� no Potter looking for you with the Sheriff.

CLOSEUP �� George and Clarence. George indicates his bad ear.

GEORGE:

Say something else in that ear.

CLARENCE (bending down)

Sure. You can hear out of it.

GEORGE:

Well, that's the doggonedest thing . . . I haven't heard anything

out of that ear since I was a kid. Must have been that jump in

the cold water.

CLARENCE:

Your lip's stopped bleeding, too, George.

George feels his lip, which shows no sign of the recent cut he

received from Welch. He is now thoroughly confused.

GEORGE:

What do you know about that . . . What's happened?

MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT �� George looks around, as though to get his

bearings.

GEORGE:

It's stopped snowing out, hasn't it? What's happened here?

(standing up)

Come on, soon as these clothes of ours are dry . . .

CLARENCE:

Our clothes are dry.

George feels the clothes on the line.

GEORGE:

What do you know about that? Stove's hotter than I thought. Now,

come on, get your clothes on, and we'll stroll up to my car and

get . . .

They start dressing. George interrupts himself.

GEORGE (cont'd)

Oh, I'm sorry. I'll stroll. You fly.

CLARENCE:

I can't fly. I haven't got any wings.

GEORGE:

You haven't got your wings. Yeah, that's right.

WIPE TO:

George and Clarence go to Nick's Place

EXTERIOR STREET �� NIGHT

MEDIUM SHOT �� This is the same empty street where George's car

swerved into the tree near the sidewalk. George and Clarence come

into shot and

up to the spot where George had left his car smashed against the

tree. George looks around, but his car is nowhere to be seen, and

the tree is

undamaged.

CLARENCE:

What's the matter?

GEORGE (puzzled)

Well, this is where I left my car and it isn't here.

CLARENCE:

You have no car.

GEORGE:

Well, I had a car, and it was right here. I guess somebody moved

it.

CLOSE SHOT �� at curb. The owner of the house passes with some

Christmas packages under his arm.

OWNER (politely)

Good evening.

GEORGE:

Oh, say . . . Hey . . . where's my car?

OWNER:

I beg your pardon?

GEORGE:

My car, my car. I'm the fellow that owns the car that ran into

your tree.

OWNER:

What tree?

GEORGE:

What do you mean, what tree? This tree. Here, I ran into it. Cut

a big gash in the side of it here.

The owner bends down to examine the trunk of the tree, then

straightens up and smells George's breath. He backs away.

OWNER:

You must mean two other trees. You had me worried. One of the

oldest trees in Pottersville.

GEORGE (blankly)

Pottersville? Why, you mean Bedford Falls.

OWNER:

I mean Pottersville.

(sharply) Don't you think I know where I live? What's the matter

with you?

The owner proceeds toward his house. George is completely

bewildered.

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