Sweet Smell of Success Page #19

Sidney finds this analysis hard to take. Again he tries to

laugh his way out of it.

SIDNEY:

(cynical)

Mary, don't try to sell me the

Brooklyn Bridge. I happen to know

it belongs to the Dodgers.

Mary, smiling, decides "to let him off the hook". She takes

the spike and the column and passes it across to Sidney's

side of the desk, as she returns briskly to her business.

MARY:

(affably)

I don't mind you looking at the

proof of the column in advance, as

long as J.J. doesn't know. But

don't do it like a boy stealing gum

from a slot machine.

Sidney doesn't like this; but, on the other hand, he does

want to look at the column. After only a momentary struggle,

he picks the column off the spike and reads.

SIDNEY:

Who put this item in about the

comic?

(reading)

"If there's a more hilarious funny

man around than Herbie Temple at

the Palace, you'll have to pardon

us for not catching the name. We

were too busy screaming." Does this

Temple have a press agent?

MARY:

No. It's one of J.J.'s occasional

beau gestes. Evidently the fellow's

funny, so he gave him a plug.

He goes to the door, grinning.

SIDNEY:

What's your favorite ribbon to go

around your favorite chocolates?

MARY:

Let's wait till Christmas - it's

more legitimate then.

She looks after Sidney, thinks about him for a moment. Then

she types.

EXT. PALACE THEATRE - DAY

Sidney comes down 47th Street from Broadway, making for the

stage door entrance of the Palace theatre. He walks

confidently into the alleyway, paying no attention to the

old doorman gossiping with the shoeshine boy at the chairs

next to the entrance. The doorman turns, protesting:

DOORMAN:

(calling out)

Hey!

LAP DISSOLVE TO:

Sidney, without halting, looks back towards the Doorman,

addressing him with the patronizing manner of a superior.

SIDNEY:

Herbit Temple here yet?

DOORMAN:

Yeah, but you can't come in now!

SIDNEY:

I'm in, Sonny Boy!

He is already on his way into doorway.

INT. BACKSTAGE OF PALACE THEATRE

The movie will soon by finished and the comedian who opens

the stage show is ready and made-up in the wings. He sits

with his agent, (AL EVANS) a small, worried, bespectacled

man, who waves an unlighted cigar as big as himself. They

converse in loud whispers, talking against the muffled and

echoing sound of the film sound track, silhouetted against

the ghostly, distorted images on the big screen seen at a

weird angle behind them.

EVANS:

I didn't waste words, Herbie, take

my word. I says, "look, Figo, I'm

not selling you a dozen eggs, I'm

selling you HERBIE TEMPLE", I says,

so don't gimme your lip!

The comedian, Herbie Temple, looks up. Sidney comes through

a fire-proof door which separates the stage from the

corridors to dressing room. In background two chorus girls

in costume are squeezed into a telephone booth. Sidney

joins the comedian and the agent; he smiles to the comedian,

while he addresses the agent.

SIDNEY:

Hiya, Al!

The agent looks from Sidney to Temple, surprised and

displeased.

EVANS:

Since when did you two get

acquainted?

Sidney has clearly never met Evans; blandly he chooses to

regard the agent's remark as an introduction; he offers his

hand with generous amiability.

SIDNEY:

How do you do, Mr. Temple...

The comic accepts the hand doubtfully.

EVANS:

(uncertain)

Delighted.

SIDNEY:

I'm Sidney Falco.

TEMPLE:

(still dubious)

Yeah, delighted...

Evans stands up, warns the comic.

EVANS:

Watch this guy, Herbie, he's a

press agent.

Temple's smile congeals.

TEMPLE:

You watch him, Al, I s...s...stutter!

SIDNEY:

(in no way discouraged)

Temple, I caught your act the other

night and -

TEMPLE:

Did you now? On which bounce?

SIDNEY:

- and I just had to drop by and

tell you how great I thought you

were.

TEMPLE:

(dryly)

Cheers. What time is it, Al?

EVANS:

You got ten minutes.

(to Sidney)

Hope you don't mind, Falco: we're

busy and if -

Sidney stands up.

SIDNEY:

No, I don't mind. I'm busy too.

TEMPLE:

(scowling)

Good! We're all off to Utica, so

excuse me, Mr. Frannis-on-the-

Portisan.

Sidney moves toward the doorway onto the corridor. The

chorus girls have now vacated the phone booth.

SIDNEY:

But can I ask one impertinent

question here? With no criticism

intended, because I know, Al, you

earn your ten percent, how come you

let a sock act like Herbie Temple

tip-toe through town without a

publicity build...?

Smiling wise, Evans shakes his head.

EVANS:

We're not buying it, Falco - no

fish today.

Sidney presses, as if annoyed.

SIDNEY:

I'm not selling. I'm just curious,

that's all.

Temple turns away from Sidney, leaving him to Evans.

TEMPLE:

Answer the man, Al, if he asks you

a question. Quick, before he

thinks up another!

Evans moves to Sidney, trying to shepherd him out the way he

came.

EVANS:

Mr. Temple doesn't believe in press

agents - does that answer you

something?

ANOTHER ANGLE:

Evans makes the mistake of laying a hand on Sidney's elbow.

Sidney doesn't like people touching him. He reacts in

anger, as we have seen before - fixes a burning eye on Evans.

SIDNEY:

Take your hand off, lump!

(more politely, to Temple)

No one believes in press agents,

Temple, when they make claims they

can't perform. I got nothing to

sell - I didn't come here to

peddle - but if I tell a client

that Hunsecker will give him space,

it's not just talk!

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