Savannah
Ward Allen missed his first duck.
- He missed?
- Oh. Yes, sir.
Ward Allen missed his first duck.
Aw, come on, Christmas.
Uncle John told me
the story himself.
Tell me another story, Christmas.
The one where Ward nearly
killed that Russian.
Come on, Little Jack.
I told you that story
now a hundred times.
I said wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Oh, look at those
babies dressed in red
Oh, they must have been
Wade in the water
Wade in water, children
Wade in the water
Oh, Jesus met the woman,
met her at the well
He said, "Look out lady,
you're headin' for hell"
I said wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
I said God's gonna
trouble the water
I said God's gonna trouble
The water
You got to help me
out here, Christmas.
Used to be people out
here who knew you.
Must still be some of them around.
All right, Little Jack.
You want to hear the story
about how Ward Allen
beat up them Russians.
No.
I've heard that story
a hundred times.
Half a mustache...
Christmas, they sold the land.
You don't get up out of that chair,
it's gonna be sitting in a pile
of debris with you still in it.
That's where I'm gonna find you.
You understand?
Well, Little Jack, Ward Allen fell
but not before he
laid down the law.
He say don't lay a finger...
upon that mustache.
Would have killed him, too,
'cept three Russians jump him.
Ambassador told Ward,
"You ever come back to Russia,
I'll march you down
to the Tsar myself."
In shackles.
All right.
You got some perishables
you better eat first.
Babs' peas and collard greens.
You don't need be going to all
that trouble, Little Jack.
What'd you finally write about?
Oh, just some stories
Christmas used to tell.
You know, Jack, the girls
and I have been talking.
We don't see...
That's a great idea.
Why don't you girls start
your own little club?
Up to the maximum
Bring gloom
Down to the minimum
Have faith
Or pandemonium's
Liable to walk up on the scene
You got to ac-cent-tchu-ate
the positive
Eliminate the negative
And latch on to the affirmative
Don't mess with
Mister In-Between
No, don't mess with
Mister In-Between
Dad, can I have the camera?
Did I ever tell you the story
about how Ward Allen
almost killed a man
for cutting off his mustache?
No, sir.
No?
Ward Allen's mustache,
that was his pride and joy.
His father had sent him to Russia
for shooting a man in a duel...
But not before he
laid down the law.
He say don't lay a finger
upon his mustache.
Would have killed him, too,
'cept three Russians jump him.
Christmas Moultrie knew Ward Allen
better than any other
person that ever lived,
and although one to the manor born
and the other born to slavery,
they were kindred spirits.
As a child, I hunted
with Christmas.
After a long day on the river,
Christmas would sit in his
rocker before the fireplace,
gazing up at the picture of Ward,
and tell us stories.
As we grew up, those stories
became the stuff of legend.
And though none of us
were related to him,
there wasn't a man among us
who didn't wish he had a
bit of Ward Allen in him.
Damn.
I told you to keep your gloves on.
I can't work my hands in 'em.
Christmas, that sentiment has
Mr. Ward, my hands are
too cold to pull them on,
and the gloves are
too cold to help.
Piss on your hands, then.
Why don't you piss your own?
My hands are neither
cold nor cut, sir,
allowing that, I can spare
myself the indignity.
Oh, yes, sir.
dignity all the time.
In-dignity. In...
Uh-huh, that, too.
Get in the boat before you talk
all the birds right on out of here.
This dog here got more
manners upon four legs
than most Savannah people
walking around upon two.
Generations of us have hunted
on the river and fields
of our county...
something passed between
father and son.
If history is our religion,
then hunting is one
of its sacraments.
Ward Allen once wrote it down,
"The river belonged
to us, and we to it."
And we to it,
like a cathedral no hands
of man could ever build.
This is as close as
a sinner like me
will ever come to the face of God.
What became tradition
for my generation
had once been a way of life,
and for the very best
hunters, it was a livelihood,
supplying the markets of
Savannah with fresh fowl.
Of the men that plied that trade,
Ward and Christmas
were the very best.
One of these mornings, Christmas,
share of these birds.
Well, if I only shot
a few of these duck,
I'd be happy just to carry my own,
let you handle the rest.
See how I can tell?
All the ones with that
surprised look in their eyes,
yeah, they're the ones you shot.
They can't really believe
it finally happened.
I don't see no surprised look
in the duck eye, Mr. Ward.
Well, see, you don't see,
so you're making my point.
I do see that a bunch of them
look like they dead
from laughing, though,
tickled to death at that
silly little 7 shot you use.
Christmas, with a name like yours,
you have a duty towards avoiding
such sarcastic constructions.
They don't become you.
Save them $10 words for the judge.
Ward Allen's river
and his way of life
might have gone on forever
if time and tide and the law
had not had other ideas.
And the new laws found in
Ward an implacable opponent.
Young blood doth not
obey an old decree.
cause why we were born.
Let us lose our oaths
to find ourselves,
or we will lose ourselves
to keep our oaths.
Your Honor.
Well remembered, Mr. Allen,
and, uh, nicely edited.
Thank you, sir.
But are you saying you
were born to hunt,
or saying you were
born to break the law?
I do recollect there are a few
who say you have a
natural talent for both.
I am slow of study, Your Honor,
and if there is a
law I truly broke,
I have not read it.
I may be a bit too good of a shot,
and there may be some who
try to construe that
against my character,
which efforts I generally
choose to forbear.
But when this type
of personal dispute
is deranged in such a way
this august assembly,
all I can say is, on my honor,
neither my partner
nor I have willingly
nor willfully broken a true law!
Or a law made in error.
Error?
And who is the judge of that?
Why you, sir, without question.
And, if you'll allow,
there are more than a few
who say you have a natural
talent in that regard.
Lord, help us.
Order. Order, please.
You... You expect me
to believe all this?
Mine honor is my life.
Translation
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Savannah" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/savannah_17508>.
Discuss this script with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In