Midnight Cowboy Page #14

RATSO:

(shrugs)

Well, what the hell, I got nothing

better to do.

EXT. LOFT BUILDING - NIGHT

Snow swirls in the aureole of a street light as Joe and Ratso

run, heads lowered, turning into...

INT. LOFT BUILDING - NIGHT

... a drab entrance hall, dimly lit -- signs identifying

various commercial tenants -- a pink-on-black placard reading

MACALBERTSON, TWO FLIGHTS UP. Joe has started up before he

notices Ratso, leaning on the bannister at the foot of the

stairs, struggling to catch his breath. His face and hair are

wet with perspiration, his lips lavender-blue.

In swift flashes -- intercut -- Joe reads the panic in

Ratso's eyes, so intense that Joe shares it, unable to speak

or offer reassurance.

JOE:

Better dry your hair some. You

sweating all over the goddam place.

Joe pulls out his shirttail, grabs Ratso by the neck and rubs

his head dry.

JOE (CONT'D)

You got a comb?

RATSO:

Don't need a comb.

JOE:

Few dozen cooties won't kill me,

don't guess.

Joe hands Ratso his own comb. Ratso swipes at his tangled

hair angrily until two teeth break in the comb. He hands the

comb back, tugs at his hair with his fingers, pats it in

place, then looks back into Joe's eyes.

RATSO:

Okay? I look okay?

In a moment of silence, distant sounds can be heard -- a

siren, the grinding teeth of a garbage truck, the twang of an

electric guitar upstairs at the party -- then Ratso makes a

quick gesture of impatience and starts up the stairs, pulling

himself on the bannister.

INT. MACALBERTSONS' LOFT - NIGHT

A bank of lights blinds Joe and Ratso as they enter --

electronic rock blasts their ears -- a bearded cameraman on a

step-ladder photographs them as they stand confused -- facing

a monstrous collage of tabloid photos blown up, showing the

murder of a hippie known as Groovy -- in-huge black letters,

LOVE WAS GROOVY -- GROOVY IS DEAD. Joe shouts over the

amplified music.

JOE:

Better get a hold of someone and

tell them I'm here.

Ratso points to his ear -- he can't hear -- following Joe

across the room. The huge loft is crowded with a random

selection, gathered to serve as dress extras in an

underground film. The party is the scene. The MacAlbertsons

merely supply the ingredients and allow it to happen, with

cameras strategically placed to record the happening...

... Hansel with tape recorder, Gretel with hand-held camera

drifting through the crowd -- catching words and images in a

detached, whimsical fashion. Gretel turns her camera on Joe

and Ratso as they approach.

JOE (CONT'D)

Well, I made it. This here is Ratso

Rizzo and I...

RATSO:

Rico. Rico Rizzo.

Gretel smiles without recognition. Hansel gestures vaguely.

HANSEL:

Do you need anything? I mean

there's beer and so forth. Whatever

your thing is...

The twins move away together, pausing to confer with the

operator of a tripod camera -- focused on an emaciated flower

girl with long hair and dirty feet, stretched in a

sarcophagus, clutching a dead daffodil, her eyes glazed.

Scrawled in huge letters on the wall over her head -- LOVE!

RATSO:

If you want the word on that

brother and sister act, I'll give

you the word. That Hansel's a fag

and Gretel's got the hots for

herself. So who cares, right? Load

up on the salami...

Ratso heads for the refreshment table. Joe starts after him

but pauses, intrigued by an alcove under the balcony where a

light show is in progress -- surreal images of naked bodies

projected against abstract currents of color and strobe

light...

... a bored fat lady in a muu-muu, squatted like a Buddha at

a low table, rolling joints for the guests.

She lights a joint and offers it to Joe as he wanders in to

watch the show. Joe laughs delightedly when he realizes what

it is...

JOE:

Shee-it, this is one helluva party!

... glancing around at the others, imitating their techniques

-- the quick inhaler, who follows with sharp gulps of air -

the deep inhalers who draw air as they inhale -- the stylist

who lets the smoke drift out and inhales through the nostrils

-- Joe puffing himself slightly dizzy, starting to laugh at

the silent flick effect of the strobe light -- the action

around him slowing almost imperceptibly, overcranked -- a

veil of smoke hanging over the fat woman's face, transforming

her into a laughing witch -- a similar veil around Joe's

head, relaxing the self-conscious tension of his face,

spontaneously curious about the play of light on his hand,

grinning at...

... a serious young technician handling the light show,

scattering psychedelic stars across a sky of magenta flesh...

... Joe reaching for the stars as he rises and wanders back

to the crowded loft, fascinated to see...

... a crew with cameras and lights, on the balcony at one end

of the loft, photographing the scene below...

... a dark-haired lady by the name of SHIRLEY -- chic in the

style of a gangster's moll -- drinking beer from the bottle,

predatory eyes searching the crowd...

... Ratso surreptitiously stuffing his pockets from the

buffet table, glancing nervously over his shoulder, unaware

of Gretel and her hand-held camera, photographing Ratso as he

steals, turning away casually, disinterested...

... Joe laughing as he dances for a moment with a tall black

girl -- the lights swinging around them -- faces swimming...

... Shirley in fleeting close-up, gone in an instant,

reappearing...

INT. MACALBERTSON BATHROOM - NIGHT

... her face in the mirror smiling in a dark, provocative way

-- Joe standing at the bathroom door, forgetting to be

embarrassed as Shirley turns away from the mirror,

unhurriedly, running her fingers through her hair, boldly

meeting Joe's eyes.

SHIRLEY:

I can tell, can't you?

JOE:

Yeah, oh yeah.

SHIRLEY:

What'll we do? Leave now or what?

Your place or mine? Oh God, the

second I looked at you I knew. Did

you?

Joe grins, watching Shirley's lips move, unable to keep her

in sync, startled to hear Ratso's voice.

RATSO'S VOICE

She's hooked...

INT. MACALBERTSONS' LOFT - NIGHT

Joe realizes he is back at the party, Ratso whispering

hoarsely.

RATSO:

... I'd say she was good for ten

bucks, but I'll ask for twenty...

But Joe is watching with terrible fascination as Hansel and

Gretel lift the flower girl from her sarcophagus.

SHIRLEY'S VOICE

Did you know? We were going to make

it?

Joe glances down to see himself flanked by Ratso and Shirley.

RATSO:

You really want to do business?

SHIRLEY:

Who's he? Oh God! Don't tell me you

two are a couple -- ?

The flower girl, hypnotically dazed, accepts a broom dipped

in black paint and smears a huge X across LOVE. Joe laughs.

HANSEL'S VOICE

Why are you laughing, Joe?

Hansel holds a microphone toward Joe, who shrugs, grinning at

Ratso and Shirley. Gretel's camera moves down Joe's body.

HANSEL:

Are you for real, Joe?

JOE:

Well, I ain't a f'real cowboy, but

I'm one hell of a stud!

Shirley glances at Ratso, who nods, whispering in her ear.

RATSO:

A very expensive stud. And I happen

to be his manager.

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