RKO 281 Page #5

Mank takes a glass from a tray of orange juice and pours vodka from a

flask into his juice as:

MANK:

Oh for Christ's sake-

WELLES:

I know who we're going to get I The great American

biography! A journey into the soul of the beast.

MANK:

This better be good

WELLES:

Image a man that has shaped his time. A titanic

figure of limitless influence. Think about empire. A

man with an empire at his feet. A man, like a baron,

living in a palace, a glorious palace on a hill, and

controlling the permutations of everyone beneath

him. Feudal.

MANK:

(realizing)

Oh Christ...

WELLES:

Image the possibilities as this man controls the

public perception of the nation through his--

MANK:

Oh Christ

A beat as Welles stands in triumph before Mank.

WELLES:

Yes.

MANK:

(quietly)

Please don't say this.

WELLES:

Mank-

MANK:

Don't whisper it. Don't even think it

WELLES:

How long have we spent casting our minds about the

world when the answer to our prayers was right here

under our noses -- every single day in the

newspapers and on the radio -- waiting for us in

that ridiculous castle! Waiting for--!

MANK:

Orson. Stop. Just stop

Welles quickly sits in a deck chair next to Mank as:

Beat

WELLES:

Now remember he's a public figure who sought out

that publicity so legally he can't stop us from--

MANK:

(laughs coldly) Listen to you. You

child! Men like him don't bother with

things like legality. They don't have to.

You know why, boy-o? Power. Power

like you couldn't even begin to imagine.

MANK:

Howard Hughes, he would just kill us. Hearst he

would kill us and f*** everything we ever loved.

WELLES:

We're doing Hearst.

A beat. Mank slowly removes his sunglasses and leans forward, dead

serious.

A beat.

MANK:

You may think you know what you're talking about,

kid, but believe me, you don't. You're talking about

going into a battle you can never win on a

battlefield so far above things like movies and

Hollywood that Hearst won't even have to glance down

when he crushes you. When he flicks you away with

one finger. I'm talking about money and influence

and evil beyond your capacity to imagine Hell.

WELLES:

So speaks the court jester.

MANK:

F*** you

WELLES:

I expected more from you.

MANK:

Sorry to disappoint.

WELLES:

(with building venom)

How does it feel, Mank? Going up to the palace and

making all the lords and ladies laugh as you tell

your little stories and beg for crumbs at the table?

How does it feel being the ugly little monkey they

keep to amuse themselves--?!

Mank leaps to his feet

MANK:

It feels just fine, you pompous f***-

Welles blocks Mank's way. Mank retreats. Welles pursues him around the

pool as:

WELLES:

I remember a man who wrote I He was a brilliant

writer who dazzled me time and time again with his

wit and insight--

MANK:

Don't do this

WELLES:

Where did he go? He hasn't had a screen credit in

four years--

MANK:

Don't do this

WELLES:

(savagely)

--Because he has been so furiously busy wasting

himself. Amusing his keepers. Because he is a

sycophant! Because he has been thrown out of every

studio in Hollywood and no one will hire him because

he's a drunk- -!

Mank spins on him:

MANK:

AND YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A GODDAMN PHONY! What is all

this "Orson Welles" bullshit?! This boy genius

crap?! What the f*** did you ever CREATE? You're

just another goddamn ACTOR!

Welles shoves Mank violently. Mank goes sailing into the pool.

Mank splashes to the surface and stands for a shocked moment and then

wades to the edge of the pool. Miraculously, and like the true drinker

he is, Mank is still holding his glass of juice and vodka, now

supplemented with pool water.

Welles stands above him, blocking his exit from the pool. From this low

angle Welles suddenly looks startlingly Kane- like.

A pause

MANK:

Let me out.

WELLES:

Listen to me-

MANK:

F*** you--

WELLES:

I am giving you the last chance you will ever have to be yourself

again!

MANK:

(suddenly)

I don't have it anymore?!

MANK:

When I was a kid I wanted to scorch the world too -

- I had all kinda dreams about making great pictures

and telling great stories. But all that's finished

for me--

WELLES:

It doesn't have to be

MANK:

And yeah, sure, Hearst's a great subject. Been

keeping notes on him for years for my ...

(he laughs bitterly)

great American novel. But I can't do it anymore. No

studio's gonna hire me and I - -

WELLES:

I'll hire you -- right now-

MANK:

I can't do it. okay?! I drink too much -- I drink

all the f***ing time and I don't have it anymore.

All that is over for me--

WELLES:

(roars)

NOT UNLESS I. TELL YOU IT IS

A tense pause

Welles kneels by the edge of the pool, effortlessly switching gears.

WELLES:

(deeply)

Look, Mank, this is our only chance

I know this is the story. And now is the time. And I cannot do it

without you. Everything in my life -- all the promise and potential and

dreams -- have led to this moment right now. To you and me. Right here.

A pause. Welles gazes at Mank, imploring

MANK:

He'll destroy us.

WELLES:

Then let him. What have we got to lose, you and I?

A long beat Welles leans close to him.

WELLES:

Take my hand, Mank. And we'll dance one last time.

We'll dance to the music of the angels. We'll make

history. We'll scorch the earth. We will ...

astonish them all.

Silence as Welles offers his hand to Mank.

Mank takes a sip from his glass of juice, vodka and pool water.

MANK:

Thank God you don't write dialogue

INT. WELLES' LIVING ROOM_DAY

Mank is slowly sharpening a series of pencils with a pocket knife,

blank pads waiting. Welles is standing across the room from him.

WELLES:

So, who is he? We have to know him.

MANK:

Everyone sees someone different. That's what we

show.

WELLES:

How?

MANK:

Like a jewel. Turn it in the light and a different

facet is illuminated.

Mank finishes sharpening his last pencil and picks up a pad He smiles

to Welles

MANK:

Go

And we leap into MONTAGE -- WELLES AND MANK BRAINSTORM

A rush of jazzy. Gene Krupa percussion as Welles and Mank develop their

story.

We see images of feverish creativity. Welles raging, pleading, arguing,

pushing. Mank responding, laughing, drinking, writing.

It is a passionate dance of creation Welles' tennis court Mank and

Welles are on the tennis court, but hard at work.

Mank waits for Welles to serve. Welles bounces the tennis ball, but is

too preoccupied to serve as:

WELLES:

The key -- the key -- the clue -- what does this

man recall on his death bed? Okay, Mank, you're

dying. What's the last image that comes to you?

Right now.

MANK:

This girl on a dock. White dress. Never said a word

to her.

WELLES:

Why her?

MANK:

She was . . . innocent

A beat, Welles deep in thought. Mank watches Welles closely.

MANK:

So when was our man innocent? Was there a moment

early on -- of innocence and bliss? There must have

been. Okay, you're dying - what do you think?

Welles does not answer. He continues to bounce the tennis ball, deep in

thought.

A beat

MANK:

(probing)

Something you lost maybe?

MANK:

Something you can never get back?

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