RKO 281 Page #14

HEARST:

(intensely)

Mr. Willicombe -- you have seen me in adversity --

you have seen me take on the unions and the Congress

and the railroads -- and we have risen above -- we

have risen above. And if that dog Welles thinks he

can strike at me now -- when he thinks I'm weak when

he thinks I'm vulnerable -- then he does not fully

comprehend the man is facing.

WILLICOMBE Mr. Welles can't know anything about the

difficulties

we're--

HEARST:

Get me Louella Parsons, now!

Willicombe picks up a phone and begins dialing as Hearst continues:

HEARST:

This upstart -- this puny man -- how does he even

dare to imagine he could comprehend my life and my

world when he crawls with the other insects in the

sewer -- in the dung -- when we control every moment

of his life from the instant he is born to the

instant we decide that he will die! Does he have no

idea of the power that controls him?!

WILLICOMBE:

Mr. Hearst, I have Miss Par'

Hearst snatches the phone from Willicombe

HEARST:

(on phone)

Miss Parsons, Mr. Hearst. Use the file

He slams down the phone

HEARST:

Now get me J. Edgar Hoover

WILLICOMBE It's very late in Washington-

HEARST:

Then wake him up!

Willicombe begins to dial

HEARST:

(fervently)

That insect thinks he knows me! He thinks he knows

my capabilities! When his neck is in my teeth and

his blood is in my throat then he will know WILLIAM

RANDOLPH HEARST!

INT. MAYER'S OFFICE. MGM_DAY

Louis B. Mayor's eyes are blinking behind his glasses

In his glasses we can see vague reflections of a series of grainy

photographs showing sex acts and illicit assignations and corpses and

mug shots.

We pull back to reveal Mayer flipping through a stack of photos and

notes.

Louella sits, smoking and supremely confident, across from him.

Mayer finally closes the file and removes his glasses. He rubs his

eyes. He rises unsteadily and goes to a liquor cabinet and pours

himself a stiff drink. He gulps it down and then returns to his desk.

A pause and then he finally looks at Louella

A beat

A beat

A beat.

A pause

LOUELLA:

So what do we got here, L.B.? We got faggots and

commies and junkies. We got movie stars screwing

n*ggers and little girls. We got killers and

perverts and whores.

LOUELLA:

We got MGM and Warner Brothers and Columbia and

Disney and Fox.

LOUELLA:

We got Jews

LOUELLA:

We got Hollywood.

MAYER:

(quietly)

What do you want?

LOUELLA:

Kill CITIZEN KANE.

MAYER:

How?

LOUELLA:

I don't give a sh*t.

A beat

LOUELLA:

The boss is working on some stuff and I'm working

on some stuff. Now I want all you boys working on

some stuff. Cause if it looks like this picture's

ever gonna come out -- I start running down the

street with these pictures like a screaming woman

with my throat cut, you follow?

J. EDGAR HOOVER'S OFFICE

DAY:

Bulldog-like FBI Director HOOVER sits erect at his desk. Behind him an

imposing FBI Seal catches the light.

He presses a button on his intercom.

HOOVER:

Agent McCabe, if you please.

His secretary, clean-cut FBI agent McCABE, enters quickly with a note

pad. Agent McCabe scribbles as Hoover dictates:

EXT.

HOOVER:

Open a new file. Heading: Welles, Orson. Native

born. Communist.

HILLS AROUND SAN SIMEON DAY

Marion and Joe Willicombe sit in deck chairs under the blazing sun.

Marion absently pets a dachshund in her lap. Servants stand behind them

with lunch and trays of iced tea

They watch Hearst riding a horse in the distance A pause. Then:

MARION:

How bad is it?

WILLICOMBE:

Miss Davies--

MARION:

Come on Joe. How bad is it?

A beat.

WILLICOMBE:

It's finished

Hearst gallops up to them. A servant helps him down from his horse. He

strides briskly to Marion and Willicombe as:

HEARST:

I've been thinking about the Tribune in Chicago.

The Examiner just can't make any headway.

Circulation is still down. I think we should buy the

Tribune.

Marion glances to Willicombe and then looks at Hearst with great

tenderness.

MARION:

Sure, Pops. That's a swell idea

INT. MANK'S HOUSE. SANTA MONICA_DAY

Manks pounding away at a typewriter in his tiny beach house.

He grumbles to himself as he types:

MANK:

... and Rita Hayworth says: "You see, he truly was

the Son of God" ... big Toland lighting effect ...

blah, blah, blah ...

A knock at the door. Mank answers it. Clean-cut FBI Agent McCabe stands

outside. He flashes his badge.

AGENT McCABE

Mr. Mankiewicz, I'm Special Agent McCabe of the

Federal Bureau of Investigation. Might I have a

moment of your time?

MANK:

Sure, kid, come in. I'm writing the crucifixion and

it's a b*tch. Sit down

Agent McCabe sits and snaps open a note pad

AGENT McCABE

I would like to ask you a few questions about Mr.

Welles.

MANK:

You guys after Orson too?

AGENT McCABE

Mr. Mankiewicz.

MANK:

Shoot

AGENT McCABE

Are you aware of Mr. Welles' Communist

affiliations?

MANK:

Sh*t, Orson's no pink. He's everything else under

the sun, but he's no pink.

AGENT McCABE

Are you aware of Mr. Welles' Communist

affiliations?

MANK:

No, I am not

AGENT McCABE

Do you have any knowledge of Communists working

within the motion picture industry?

AGENT McCABE

Do you have any knowledge of Communists working

within the motion picture industry?

MANK:

No

AGENT McCABE

Are you now or have you ever been a member of, or

affiliated with, the Communist Party or any of its

front organizations in the United States?

MANK:

Stop it

AGENT McCABE

Are you now or have you ever been a member of--

MANK:

I think you better leave

AGENT McCABE

Are you now or have you--

MANK:

(grim)

Get the f*** outta my house.

Agent McCabe snaps his note pad closed and stands.

AGENT McCABE

(crisply)

Thank you for your time, Mr. Mankiewicz. We'll be

in touch.

Agent McCabe leaves

MANK:

(calling after him)

Don't bother, you low-life prick

Mank slams the door

He stands for a moment, pale, and then goes to the kitchen and pours

himself a stiff drink.

INT. SAN SIMEON, ASSEMBLY ROOM_DAY

Marion is pouring a drink as well. She quickly fills a glass of Scotch

and then begins striding back and forth across the Assembly Room.

Hearst sits quietly at one of the jigsaw puzzles He occasionally and

absently puts a piece in place.

She has clearly been at him for some time

MARION:

Then you explain it to me?!

HEARST:

There's nothing to explain

MARION:

A million dollars a year on art and st-st-statues

and there's nothing to explain?!

HEARST:

I will not defend my life to you--

MARION:

I'm not asking you to defend anything. But we're in

a pickle and we gotta talk about it.

HEARST:

We are in no "pickle" -- as you would

euphemistically have it.

MARION:

You gotta wake up now. Pops.

HEARST:

There is nothing to discuss-

MARION:

You don't have any money left, okay?! That's the

truth. I don't wanna say it, nobody else will say

it, but it's the truth. You spent it all. You can't

buy the Tribune in Chicago -- you can't buy ^ g-g-

goddamn thing. Now you better face up to it--

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