Midnight Cowboy Page #15

The scene -- from Joe's viewpoint -- becomes increasingly

confusing and fragmented, dialogue and image moving in and

out of focus, cameras and lights surrounding him, keeping the

center of attention in his own blown mind...

... Shirley's eyes unnaturally bright, inspecting his body,

lingering on his thighs, moistening her lips...

SHIRLEY:

It's too much -- to come face to

face with a walking talking sex

fantasy -- to buy a man's -- God!

... the tall black girl dancing in stroble light, starting to

remove her clothes -- Gretel following her with a camera...

SHIRLEY'S VOICE

I can't wait to tell my man Monday.

I should be taking notes. Look at

my arm!

... Shirley's talon-like fingernails caressing the gooseflesh

on her tanned arm...

RATSO'S VOICE

I gotta sit down. I feel crummy.

Ratso stretched out on a Victorian love seat -- the flower

girl walking unsteadily, passing out dead daffodils, placing

one in Ratso's hand Gretel photographing his reaction...

SHIRLEY'S VOICE

Eat it -- a man in your line of

work has to keep his strength up...

... Shirley bringing Joe a massive sandwich on a paper plate,

watching him bite into it...

SHIRLEY:

It's fantastic, now I know,

everything you do has sexual

implications.

If I you know, bought it -- could I

take pictures of you naked? That's

part of it, isn't it, kinky kinda

things?

... the tall black girl and a few others are trying to

promote an orgy. A scrofulous old wino dances spastically,

working his toothless gums, preparing to expose himself to

two girls dancing together...

HANSEL'S VOICE

We want you, Joe. You've been

chosen.

... five youths stand beside the sarcophagus -- two sailors,

two cycle freaks, a weight-lifter -- waiting to be

pallbearers. Joe joins them. All lights and cameras are

turned on the slow funeral procession, carrying the flower

girl out of the loft to the tune of "Moonlight and Roses".

Strobe light adds to the unreality of the scene...

SHIRLEY'S VOICE

I had a thing for him. Before I

knew. Why should knowing make it

more of a thing?

... Shirley talks to Gretel as she photographs the funeral.

SHIRLEY:

Naturally I'll have to ask myself

why a cowboy? And why a cowboy

whore? But not tonight.

INT. MACALBERTSON LANDING - NIGHT

Shirley is pulling her coat out of the pile on the bannister.

SHIRLEY:

Incidentally, how much is this

going to cost me anyway?

Joe turns to Ratso, whose attention is fixed on the coats.

JOE:

Tell her, Ratso.

RATSO:

Twenty bucks...

SHIRLEY:

Sold. Let's go.

RATSO:

... and taxi fare for me.

SHIRLEY:

Get lost.

RATSO:

I agree. And for that service I

charge one dollar taxi fare.

She takes a dollar from her purse and hands it to Ratso,

takes Joe's arm and starts down the stairs. Ratso lingers,

starting quickly through the coats, frisking them for loose

change.

INT. LOFT BUILDING LOBBY - NIGHT

At the foot of the stairs, Shirley kisses Joe violently.

SHIRLEY:

Your name's Joe. Which is fabulous.

Joe could be anyone. Kiss me, Joe,

move over, Joe, go away, Joe. It's

just perfect.

They glance up as Ratso appears, swinging down too rapidly on

the bannister. He misses a step and falls -- a clown's fall,

unable to stop but apparently not hurting himself. Shirley

and Joe are laughing when Ratso lands at the foot of the

stairs.

SHIRLEY (CONT'D)

He fell. Hey, fella, you fell. Is

he all right?

RATSO:

(rises, mimics)

Is he all right!

JOE:

Well, if you're awright, why you

hanging on the bannister. Can you

walk or not?

RATSO:

Walk? Naturally I can walk.

SHIRLEY:

He's got taxi fare.

JOE:

Sure you're all right?

RATSO:

(shouts)

I said yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah!

INT. TAXICAB - NIGHT

Joe and Shirley are kissing. Shirley rolls away, flushed,

fanning herself. Joe rolls down the window.

EXT. VILLAGE STREET - NIGHT

Joe leans out of the taxi window, waving his Stetson,

bellowing at the snow.

JOE:

Whoopee ti yi yo...!

EXT. LOFT BUILDING - NIGHT

Ratso makes his way slowly from the building to the curb,

whistling between his teeth sharply, hailing a cab. The cab

slows to a stop. Then the driver sees Ratso, shifts into gear

and drives on. Ratso bites his thumb after the cab, rests for

a moment on the lamp post, then starts painfully inching his

way along the deserted street.

INT. SHIRLEY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Joe lies on his back, staring fixedly at a fragile mobile

hanging from the ceiling, stirring listlessly.

SHIRLEY'S VOICE

That happens. Don't worry about

it...

Shirley leans on one elbow, looking at Joe sympathetically,

fighting an almost irrepressible desire to laugh. Still

avoiding Shirley's eyes, Joe finds a cigarette on the side

table, searches for matches.

JOE:

Well, that's something never

happened to me before, you can bet

your bottom dollar. Uh, where's the

matches, ma'am?

SHIRLEY:

Top drawer. Maybe if you didn't

call me ma'am, things would work

out better.

Joe finds the matches, lights up and lies back, staring at

the mobile as he smokes, still not looking at Shirley.

JOE:

First goddam, time it ever quit on

me. Fact.

The repressed laugh finally breaks through. Shirley stifles

it quickly as Joe sits up, looking at her.

JOE (CONT'D)

You think I'm lying!

SHIRLEY:

(controls herself)

No. Of course not. Just something

struck me funny...

Close on Joe -- watching Shirley closely, reacting.

SHIRLEY'S VOICE

I just put myself in your shoes. I

had this image of a bugler without

a horn, a policeman without a

stick, etcetera, etcetera and I...

(giggles)

I think I'd better shut up, I'm

making it worse.

Shirley composes her face, reaching out to touch Joe. But

that doesn't help either. He reacts sharply.

SHIRLEY:

Maybe we should take a little nap,

see what happens?

JOE:

I ain't sleepy.

SHIRLEY:

I know. Scribbage!

Extreme close-up of Joe -- frowning, puzzled...

JOE:

Shee-it...

... camera pulling back to show Joe concentrating on a game,

spread out on the sheet, consisting of nine dice lettered on

all sides, the object being to build as many words as

possible, Scrabble fashion, while a sand timer counts the

seconds. Shirley watches Joe's efforts to think with

sympathetic amusement. The only word Joe has composed so far

is MAN.

SHIRLEY:

That's pretty Freudian, Joe.

JOE:

What? It's a perfectly good word,

ain't it. How much time I got?

(glances up)

Goddam sand thing drive you crazy.

Kee-rist. Spelling never was a very

strong point with me. Even in

school.

SHIRLEY:

If you didn't talk so much, maybe

you could think more.

JOE:

Talking helps. Don't talk, you get

muddled in your head. Hey! Now you

just look at this here!

Joe spells out MONY, down from the M in MAN.

SHIRLEY:

There's an E in MONEY. If that's

your word.

JOE:

M-O-N-Y -- I'm right! That's just

exactly how they spell it up there

on that big building, bet you could

see it from here. M-O-N-Y.

SHIRLEY:

(stifles giggle)

Okay. Never argue with a man.

JOE:

Y -- what in hell starts with Y?

Shirley slyly trails the tips of her fingernails across Joe's

chest as she leans over to study the game, breathing softly

into his ear as she speaks.

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