Midnight Cowboy Page #12

RATSO'S VOICE

You think it's funny?

INT. X FLAT - DAY

Joe is seated in a straight-back chair near the X window, a

towel tucked around his neck as Ratso trims his hair, almost

as expert a barber as shoeshine boy.

RATSO:

Stupid bastard coughed his lungs

out breathing that resin all day.

They buried him with gloves on.

Even the fag undertaker couldn't

get his nails clean.

As if by conditioned reflex, Ratso chokes on the cigarette in

his mouth, coughing painfully. He crushes it out, opens the

window to spit, shivering, then slam it and turns back to

remove the towel from Joe's neck.

JOE:

Kee-rist, you pretty damn clever

for a skimpy little gimp.

RATSO:

You like it? Take a look.

JOE:

Don't rush me. How I do it, see, I

get myself primed, like I was

turning on the charm for some

pretty little blonde lady, then

kinda mosey away slow and easy and

- swing around! -- and there you

are, you handsome devil.

Joe performs his ritual as he speaks, but more relaxed,

faintly laughing at himself with Ratso. The wall mirror has

been added since we last saw the flat, along with a legless

overstuffed chair with burnt-out cushions, a tasselled table

cover, pinups, calendar girls and several new Florida tourist

posters, Ratso moves to Joe's side, arranging the

neckerchief, nodding.

RATSO:

Not bad -- for a cowboy -- you're

okay, you're okay.

JOE:

What I'm gonna do, I'm gonna make a

cowboy outta you, kid. How about

that? Build you up a little, teach

you couple little tricks'n turn

y'out to stud, Rat-stuff.

Joe slaps his hat on Ratso's head, tilts it, hooks Ratso's

thumbs in his jeans and shoves a cigarette into the corner of

Ratso's mouth. Ratso laughs till he chokes -- for one

instant, self-consciously, mimicking Joe -- then removes the

hat and reaches for his threadbare black raincoat.

JOE (CONT'D)

Okay, you got yourself one

handsome, sweet-smelling cowboy,

strut your stuff...

EXT. CONVERTED TOWN HOUSE - DAY

Joe and Ratso peer down through a basement bay window, into

the office of THE PERFECT GENTLEMAN ESCORT SERVICE --

endorsed by leading travel agencies and credit clubs offering

discreet companionship and personal guided tours in any

language. A large-busted matron, on a French phone, fills out

a memo and hands it to an immaculate young ESCORT, who slips

the memo into his topcoat pocket as he comes from the office

and hails a cab. Ratso darts forward, limping exaggeratedly,

holding the door, lifting the memo as he brushes off the

Escort's topcoat. The young man waves him away with out a

tip. Ratso slams the door and bites his thumb after the cab,

unfolding the memo as he joins Joe on the sidewalk.

RATSO:

How do you like that? Cheap

bastard...

(reads, then)

I think we struck gold. This is one

high-class chick. The Barbizon for

Women!

EXT. MANHATTAN SKYLINE - DUSK

The Mutual of New York tower flashes MONY.

INT. CORNER PHONE BOOTH - DUSK

Ratso consults the memo as he speaks into the phone.

RATSO:

Mr. McNeill, I'm calling for Miss

Beecham at the Barbizon Hotel for

Women. She won't need you

tonight...

EXT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT

A doorman helps a young lady into a limousine.

RATSO'S VOICE

Would you believe a whole goddam

hotel with nothing but lonely

chicks?

Joe and Ratso watch from across the street.

RATSO:

Score once in that setup, the way

chicks talk, Christ...

Joe cracks his gum, tilts his hat, starts across the street.

RATSO (CONT'D)

Get the money! Remember Cass

Trehune? Cash! These rich b*tches

write a check at night, call the

bank and stop payment in the

morning. Get the cash!

In Ratso's eyes -- as Joe enters the hotel -- its facade

suddenly wipes away to reveal rich ladies in negligee waiting

in every room.

INT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT

Joe starts up the stairs, two at a time. A BELLHOP grabs him.

BELLHOP:

Hey! No men upstairs!

EXT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT

Ratso warms his hands at a chestnut vendor's cart, seeing...

... zoom close-up, a lady in a window grabbing Joe.

INT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT

Joe picks up a house phone, watched by the Bellhop.

EXT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT

Ratso sees Joe zip from room to room in wild animation.

INT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT

The lobby watches Joe blow a gum bubble at the elevator.

EXT. EXCLUSIVE DRESS SHOP - NIGHT

Staring at a window display of Florida sportswear, Ratso's

imagination soars, seeing...

EXT. FLORIDA BEACH FRONT - FANTASY

... Ratso, like a model in a travel poster, in gaudy sport

shirt, talking on the phone against a background of hotels...

... Ratso like James Bond, surrounded by bikinis, dictating

while girls serve coconut milk and massage his game leg...

... Ratso like George Raft, in evening clothes, running a

posh casino, flicking a coin...

... Ratso simply himself, dressed as he is, sitting on the

beach, at peace in the sun...

... the same identical picture with Joe sitting beside Ratso.

INT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT

Joe faces MISS BEECHAM, a reserved and rather plain young

lady in evening dress, She tries to speak softly.

MISS BEECHAM:

I'm afraid there's been a terrible

mistake...

EXT. EXCLUSIVE DRESS SHOP - NIGHT

Ratso leans against the window, flipping a coin.

EXT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT

Miss Beecham is flushed with humiliation, the entire lobby

watching Joe in the hands of two bellboys.

JOE:

I want my money, goddamit, you owe

me my money whether you get laid or

not, lady, shee-it!

EXT. EXCLUSIVE DRESS SHOP - NIGHT

The lights in the window suddenly switch off, blacking out

Florida. Ratso glances toward the growl of a siren O.S.

EXT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT

A police prowl car slows in front of the hotel. Ratso swings

across the street with incredible speed to meet Joe as he's

tossed onto the sidewalk. Ratso picks up the Stetson and

brushes it off, then helps Joe to his feet.

EXT. SIXTH AVENUE - NIGHT

From a high angle -- the two figures move slowly along the

deserted avenue, their rhythmic musical duet growing more and

more faint in the distance, a broken grasshopper and a six

foot tarnished cowboy -- passing a tuxedo rental store, next

to a lighted sign -- TEMPERATURE IN MIAMI BEACH, FLORIDA 89

DEGREES -- their pace slowing to a dead stop...

INT. X FLAT - NIGHT

... Joe and Ratso frozen -- rain on the X windowpane freezing

into sheet ice. O.S.

a radio commercial plays warm, sentimental music while a cozy

voice explains how easy it is to heat with Humble oil.

EXT. CONDEMNED TENEMENTS - DAY

Joe and Ratso frozen in a narrow shaft of sunlight, watching

the huge metal ball demolish the building next door. O.S. a

radio announcer sells FROZEN SUNSHINE ORANGE JUICE.

INT. X FLAT - NIGHT

Joe and Ratso frozen, staring significantly at Joe's radio.

O.S. a singing commercial, "Don't wheeze and sneeze the

winter away! Drink Frozen sunshine every day!"

EXT. PAWN SHOP - DAY

Through the window -- Joe and Ratso watch the pawnbroker

examine Joe's radio, "Be healthier, wealthier, life can be

fine, when you drink Frozen" -- Sunshine is clicked off by

the pawnbroker.

Rate this script:3.0 / 2 votes