Klute Page #20

CABLE (CONT'D)

-- Is that contempt? Is it?

(then)

No, I'm the one who feels contempt.

-- and once or twice a CRY from Bree.

Klute tries to gain aim --

P.O.V. TO BREE, CABLE

-- but Cable is too close upon her, and they are

too steadily in motion.

KLUTE:

Klute moves on -- moves on -- gains position --

springs.

CABLE:

Cable catches the sound, whirls, screams --

P.O.V. TO KLUTE

Klute closes with him, knocks loose Cable's pistol

- contends for it again, knocks it loose again.

EFFECT -- under -- SIRENS.

CABLE, KLUTE

Cable breaks loose, backs a step -- backs another

step -- and then, turns and runs unhesitant against

one of the windows, exploding it outward with him,

both frame and glass.

EXT. WIDE SHOT:
BUILDINGS - DAY (NIGHT)

We see the body tracing its quick path down the

dark side of the building.

EXT. DOWNSHOT FROM LOFT TO STREET (KLUTE'S P.O.V.) -

DAY (NIGHT)

EXT. BASE OF BUILDING: CABLE'S BODY - DAY (NIGHT)

The sound of SIRENS a little LOUDER.

INT. GARMENT BUILDING: KLUTE, BREE - DAY (NIGHT)

Klute turns from looking down, moves to where Bree

kneels on the floor. He hunkers down.

In a gentle-enough VOICE, but matter-of-factly

withal -- as if to a child --

KLUTE:

Come on.

(pause)

Come on.

(Note:
also shoot in MSL, without dialogue, with

SIRENS O.S. full up.) Then we CUT TO --

INT. KLUTE'S APARTMENT - DAY

KLUTE is packing to leave. We follow him about as

he carries clothing from closet and bureau, folds

it into his suitcase on the table. We hear the

familiar FOOTSTEPS on the stairs. Bree's KNOCK. He

lets her in, keeps on about his business. His

expression is sober; hers is quite tentative.

BREE:

Hi.

He doesn't at least expel her. She ventures in,

sits on the table, swings her heels, watches him

pack. His arm impairs him. At length --

KLUTE:

I got a call from Ross this

morning. Cable owned a plot of

woodland -- he'd go there on

weekends. They found Tom

Grunemann's body buried there.

They've notified his wife.

BREE:

Oh.

(pause; then sharply --)

Well it wasn't us city people that

did it -- your fine rosy-cheeked

country boy.

KLUTE:

Mm.

BREE:

You're going back?

KLUTE:

Mm.

Pause. She compresses her lips, slips down from the

table, starts smartly out of the room.

KLUTE (CONT'D)

Wait.

She returns and sits on the table again, waits. But

Klute doesn't seem about to say anything more --

goes on packing.

BREE:

Well suppose I hadn't come

downstairs. Would you just have

folded up and sneaked away?

KLUTE:

(slowly)

No. I was going to come up. I

wanted to ask you to marry me.

(pause)

BREE:

You wanted to, or you are?

KLUTE:

I am.

BREE:

You could at least look at me!

He complies, stands and looks, folding a necktie.

But now she finds she has to look away. Somewhat

brokenly --

BREE (CONT'D)

Look -- yes. I mean thanks, but --

don't you think we better be

realistic?

KLUTE:

About what?

BREE:

Look at me. I'm pretty and sort of

clever and very well intentioned,

and dear God I'd tear your heart

out!

KLUTE:

I don't think so.

He resumes packing, continues through the

following.

BREE:

How can you not think so? You know

the things I can do.

KLUTE:

(unclearly)

They don't scare me any more.

BREE:

What?

KLUTE:

Doesn't scare me. I think we could

handle it.

Thereafter he guards his silence, staunchly goes on

packing, as she comes at the thing from various

sharp angles.

BREE:

Please, I'm a city person. I'm sure

it's just as good as here but I'm a

city person, that's all, I am!

(pause)

Hell I know what it's like. I was

in Jersey once:
the frogs go bra-a

p all night!

(pause)

What'im I supposed to do? Mend your

socks and sing in the church choir?

(pause, choking) )

Do you not believe I love you? I'm

honestly, honestly just --

He has almost finished packing -- returns toward

the suitcase with the tin CLOCK and electric FAN,

tries to fit them in as conversation continues.

BREE (CONT'D)

Look, why should it be yes or no?

Can't we keep it going and see? I

mean we can keep in touch and visit

each other and see. People do that,

that's realistic.

KLUTE:

OK.

BREE:

(bitterly)

You don't believe that either, do

you? Why can't you see my side?

KLUTE:

Can you use these?

He sets the fan beside her, hands her the LOUDLY

TICKING clock. She holds it in her lap, numbly.

He's packed -- closes various drawers, leaving in

good order -- snaps the suitcase shut, lifts it

stiffly down from the table. She remains sitting.

BREE:

Can I carry something for you, to

the car?

(he shakes his head)

Will you kiss me?

KLUTE:

No. I'm sore.

He moves to the door, pauses, half-smiles --

KLUTE (CONT'D)

Well --

She smiles back. He goes. We hear the entryway door

opening and closing.

She slips down off the table. We CUT TO --

EXT STREET OUTSIDE BROWNSTONE - DAY

Klute is, let's say, about seventy feet on his way

when she appears at the front door, calls after

him.

BREE:

Hey.

He turns around and stops. He walks slowly back to

her.

CLOSER:
BREE, KLUTE

He arrives in proximity to her. Then the following

events in more or less the following order:

He looks at her inquiringly. She responds by

sitting down, plunk, on the grubby front step of

the Brownstone.

Having stood for some time -- during which she has

offered only twitching motions of her hands -- he

sets down the suitcase.

Having set down the suitcase, but derived no

answer, he reaches out one arm, and leans against

the building front.

She nearly arrives at the level of statement.

Fretfully, indecisively --

BREE:

Oh heck --

(pause)

Oh heck --

Then, as a man not to be dallied with, he picks up

the suitcase again. She looks at him strickenly,

but it doesn't precipitate her into speech.

He puts it down again.

And then -- then, after all, goddamit, he reaches

out, grabs her wrist, and simply hauls her along,

suitcase in one hand, Bree in the other. As she

yanks, shouts, struggles --

BREE (CONT'D)

I haven't decided yet!

(beat)

I haven't decided yet!

(beat)

I haven't decided yet! --

THE END:

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