The French Connection Page #11

DOYLE:

I hear the health department is

going to close this joint for

selling dirty beer. I come by to

help you carry out your money.

MUTCHIE:

They'll close you down if they ever

get a look at those busted-valise

broads you run with.

DOYLE:

You want some eggs.

MUTCHIE:

Why not?

DOYLE:

(looking around for bacon)

Hey, Mutch! You want bacon?

MUTCHIE:

Yeah!

DOYLE:

(rattling pans,

looking around)

Where the hell is it?

MUTCHIE:

Where the hell do you think it is,

potato head?

DOYLE opens the door to the icebox.

MUTCHIE:

No wonder there's so many Mafia

around. Ya couldn't find a Puerto

Rican in Spanish Harlem.

TIME LAPSE. Almost morning. Close on DOYLE and MUTCHIE

eating bacon and eggs. MUTCHIE is standing behind the bar

as he eats, DOYLE is sitting in front of it. They both have

a bottle of beer.

45.

MUTCHIE:

I got this little chick I'm tryin'

to hit on. She's about 20, 21... I

take her to Jilly's last night and

she's tellin' me about how she

wants to settle down one day, get

married... I says, "Hey, this is

1971, baby, I'm just a dirty old

man lookin' to score with some

p*ssy."

DOYLE:

Strike out, eh?

MUTCHIE:

Yeah. In the late innings. Ya

look like a night's sleep wouldn't

kill ya.

DOYLE:

A piece of ass wouldn't kill me.

MUTCHIE:

When ya go back on?

DOYLE:

Morning. Sometime.

MUTCHIE:

Whyn't ya stretch out on the pool

table for a couple hours. The kid

comes in at six will wake ya. A

couple eggs and a beer is cheaper

than keepin' a dog around the joint.

EXT. MUTCHIE'S BAR - DAY

Close of DOYLE going to his car. He stops for a light.

DOYLE is red-eyed and in need of a shave. He fidgets

through his pockets looking for a cigarette but doesn't find

one. As he drives along a GIRL CYCLIST comes into view

alongside.

Our view is DOYLE's view of her long, lean tapered legs. If

he looks further, and DOYLE always looks further, he will

see there is a bra-band sweater covering her well-formed

breasts. The pendulous swing is there as she bends over the

handlebars.

Close front view of DOYLE looking back to the light, then

back to the legs.

Close outside view, the cyclist, of DOYLE leaning out the

window with his badge in his hand.

46.

DOYLE:

You got a pedaller's license?

GIRL:

What?

DOYLE:

You're under arrest.

INT. SIMONSON OFFICE - DAY

Medium close shot of RUSSO and SIMONSON. PHIL KLEIN, a

federal narcotics agent, is reading aloud from an article in

the New York Daily News. MULDERIG is listening and sipping

coffee.

Close shot of BILL MULDERIG, a Fed narcotics agent.

MULDERIG:

Whatta you got -- four more years,

Walter?

Medium close of SIMONSON and RUSSO

SIMONSON:

Three.

Close shot of MULDERIG.

MULDERIG:

Christ, by the time you get out all

this sh*t'll be legal.

Wide shot of room, taking in SIMONSON, RUSSO, MULDERIG and

PHIL KLEIN. SIMONSON hands BUDDY a stack of warrants.

SIMONSON:

(rises, to RUSSO)

The judge gave you ten days on

these. Klein and Mulderig will be

sitting in for the Federals. Tell

Doyle they'll make all the buys,

and that they're to be kept informed

of everything that goes down.

SIMONSON turns to MULDERIG.

SIMONSON:

You know Doyle, don't you Bill?

Close of MULDERIG.

47.

MULDERIG:

(rises)

Sure, I know Popeye. The Master of

undercover, whose brilliant idea of

disguise is to limp into a room on

his left foot and limp out on his

right. Whose brilliant hunches

cost the death of a good officer --

Close of RUSSO

RUSSO:

If that's how you're coming in, why

not stay home and save us all a lot

of grief.

MULDERIG, close.

MULDERIG:

That's just my opinion.

RUSSO, close.

RUSSO:

Whyn't you shove it up your ass!

EXT. DOYLE'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

Long shot of RUSSO approaching housing project group of

buildings. This is where DOYLE lives.

INT. HALLWAY TO DOYLE'S APARTMENT

RUSSO rings the bell. No response. He knocks. Again

nothing. He hears a shower working inside the apartment.

RUSSO:

Popeye.

No answer.

RUSSO:

Popeye.

DOYLE:

(off, weakly)

Yeah.

RUSSO:

It's Cloudy. Open the door.

DOYLE:

(off)

I can't.

48.

RUSSO:

Why not?

DOYLE:

(off)

Let yourself in.

RUSSO reaches into his jacket pocket and gets a celluloid

card, his PBA card, which he slides into the door at the

lock. He gives it a juggle and the lock is free but the

door moves grudgingly.

INT. DOYLE'S APARTMENT - DAY

The door to DOYLE's apartment, a close view from inside.

There's a bike propped against it and BUDDY RUSSO is trying

to push it open from the outside.

RUSSO:

(behind door)

What the hell you got holding the

door?

The bike teeters and falls with a crash and RUSSO comes into

the room puzzled, exasperated.

INT. APARTMENT - RUSSO'S POV - DAY

DOYLE is anklecuffed to the bedpost at the foot of the bed.

RUSSO:

What happened to you?

DOYLE:

(sleepy)

The crazy kid handcuffed me to the

bed. With my own cuffs.

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