Platinum Blonde Page #12

CONTINUATION SCENE 75

Grayson. He is looking at her,

deeply disturbed.

GRAYSON:

When you get through with him?

76. DOUBLE SHOT

ANNE:

Yes, it'll be a very interesting

experiment.

GRAYSON:

(sneering)

To make a gentleman out of a tramp?

ANNE:

Exactly.

GRAYSON:

Now, Anne, you remember how much

it cost to get rid of that baseball

player?

ANNE:

You don't seem to understand that

this one's different. He has brains.

MED. CLOSE SHOT

Grayson seats himself beside her on the divan.

GRAYSON:

(fervently)

But what about me, Anne?

She looks at him coldly with almost an expression of

dislike.

ANNE:

You? Oh, don't go serious on me,

Dexter.

LAP DISSOLVE TO:

INT. PENTHOUSE APT. - NIGHT

MED. SHOT TRUCKING

An elaborate, modernistic roof apartment, thronged with

people all in evening dress. Stew and Anne are walking

down among them. Anne is radiant, and Stew is happily

guiding her among the stuffed shirts. Anne stops before a

group. There is the sound of conversation, laughter, clink

of glasses, music from stringed invisible orchestra, etc.

ANNE:

Hello, Natalie. Mr. Stewart Smith

. . . Miss Montgomery, Mrs. Eames,

Mrs. Radcliff, Mr. Radcliff—

STEW:

How-di-do.

GROUP:

(ad-lib

acknowledgements)

79. MED. CLOSE SHOT - DEXTER GRAYSON

Standing, helping himself to a cocktail, which a footman

is passing about. Dexter looks off with a frown of

disapproval.

80. CLOSE SHOT - GROUP OF WOMEN

They are looking off in Anne's direction.

FIRST WOMAN:

Say, who's Anne's new boyfriend?

SECOND WOMAN:

Well, if these old ears don't

deceive me, I believe his name is

Smith.

FIRST WOMAN:

Smith! Can't be one of the brothers -

he hasn't a beard on.[6]

SECOND WOMAN:

Well, he must have something if

Anne has got her clutches on him.

There is the sound of a piano chord being struck.

MED. FULL SHOT

Mrs. Baxter, the hostess, is standing importantly by the

grand piano at which is seated an anaemic-looking young

man. Beside her stands a stout, swarthy Italian with

bristling mustachios. Mrs. Baxter bows toward the swarthy

one, who bends almost double in acknowledgement. There is

a polite scattering of applause, and some of the guests

seat themselves.

Martini starts to sing.

Unnoticed by the rest, Stew and Anne slip out of the door

into the roof garden.

EXT. ROOF GARDEN

MED. FULL SHOT

A most beautiful, romantic spot. Rose trees in blossom, a

vine-covered pergola, a splashing fountain, a few choice

marble statues, low, deep chairs placed to make a gorgeous

spot. Stew and Anne enter from the direction of the house.

The garden is dark except for the lights from the interior

of the house. From within, comes the voice of the singer

rendering an extremely romantic, sentimental Italian love

song. This will continue to the FADE OUT of the scene.

Stew and Anne walk, still hand in hand, toward the edge of

the pergola where the shadows are deeper and where a couple

of glorified steamer chairs are placed. There is a full

moon overhead.

She leads him toward a waterfall effect, a glass partition

down which water trickles. They go behind the dimly lit

fountain and sit in a low, deep divan. We see them in

silhouette as they go into a passionate embrace. All we

hear is the faint voice of Martini—and the uninterrupted

splashing of the fountain.

CUT TO:

CLOSEUP - ANNE & STEW

On divan, arms around each other.

STEW:

Anne, pinch me, will you? Throw me

out of here. Give me the air. Throw

me out of this joint, will you?

Anne smiles happily and pinches his nose.

ANNE:

Why should I? We're happy, aren't

we, darling?

STEW:

Throw me out - because I'm beginning

to get goofy ideas, and they concern

you, Anne.

ANNE:

(passionately)

None of your ideas can be goofy,

Stew, if they concern me.

STEW:

(struggling)

My name is Smith - well, that you

seem to have been able to stand

for the last month. I'm white,

male and over twenty-one. I've

never been in jail - that is, not

often. And I prefer Scotch to

Bourbon. I hate carrots, I hate

peas, I like black coffee and I

hate garters. I make seventy-five

bucks a week and I've got eight

hundred and forty-seven bucks in

the bank - and - I don't know yet

whether your eyes are blue or

violet.

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