The Ladykillers
EXT. MISSISSIPPI RIVER - DAY
A BOAT:
Specifically, a garbage scow.
We see it from ON HIGH, chugging down the placid but mighty
Mississippi.
Head credits play over COVERAGE of the garbage scow. No sound,
except for an incongruously heroic score.
The COVERAGE is a little rough, coarse-grained; along with
the overbearing score it almost suggests an industrial film
rather than a feature.
One piece of sound -- the toot of the boat's horn -- is
obviously library. And not a new library either.
The garbage scow passes under a bridge spanning the broad,
sluggish waters, and proceeds on to its landfill, a steaming
river island. Disturbed gulls and other scavenger birds rise
from where they were picking through trash. Their squawks,
like the boat horn, are not quite believable as SYNC.
The head credits end as the anthemic music resolves.
EXT. SAUCIER, MISSISSIPPI - DAY
AN OLD HOUND DOG
lies on the weather-grayed and -roughened planking of a front
porch. The porch is half-shaded from the noonday sun. It is
quiet except for the chirr of heat bugs, close by, and, very
distant, many voices in chorus, engaged in divine worship in
a Baptist church sufficiently far away that vagaries of breeze
fan them in and out of audibility.
We once again hear the toot of the scow's horn, distant now
and played as real, not slapdash effect. At this, the dog
lifts his nose to catch the breeze, sniffs, and then, whining,
lowers his head to the floor and covers his snout with his
forepaws. He huffs briefly and goes to sleep.
We DRIFT UP to show that the dog is sleeping before the
SAUCIER WORM STORE
Your source for worms, lures, etcetera, etcetera...
We TRAVEL OVER TO REVEAL that the modest one-story structure
houses two establishments; its other front door leads to the
SAUCIER MUNICIPAL BUILDING.
A campaign sign in the window on the municipal side shows a
black man of late middle-age beaming and giving the viewer a
thumbs-up:
RE-ELECT WAYNE WYNER SHERIFF/He Is Too Old to Go to Work.
INT. SAUCIER MUNICIPAL BUILDING - DAY
We hear snoring on top of a low, steady hissing sound.
We are DRIFTING toward the door of the lock-up, which stands
open. The small cell is empty, its bed neatly made.
A KEY:
We are ARCING slowly around a jailer's key on a ring that
hangs from a nail. The OFFSCREEN snoring and whirring
continues.
The TRACK'S SHIFTING ANGLE now makes the light catch a spider
web spun between the key and the wall.
POLICE SCANNER:
We DRIFT across the face of the radio. The peaceful steady
hissing jumps in louder at the CUT: it is uninterrupted: a
transmissionless, crimeless, misdemeanorless idle radio hiss.
The snoring is also louder here. As we TRAVEL OFF the radio
we are COMING ONTO a pair of feet propped up on the desktop.
They belong to SHERIFF WYNER, tipped back in his chair,
fingers laced on his chest, head lolling forward.
As the MOVING CAMERA FINALLY ENDS on him, there is the ring
of a telephone -- muffled, not present.
It nevertheless rouses the sheriff who almost strangles on a
snore as he awakes, and then rocks forward to pick up his
phone.
SHERIFF WYNER:
Sheriff Wyner...
The muffled ringing continues; the sheriff looks, puzzled,
at the phone. Now the ringing stops and we hear a muffled
voice next door:
VOICE (O.S.)
Worms.
The sheriff replaces the phone, leans back again, adjusts
his hat, and is about to go back to sleep when we hear the
front door open.
The sheriff looks and reacts with genuine, if momentary,
fear.
He manages to compose himself and give the intruder a smile:
SHERIFF WYNER:
Afternoon, Miz Munson.
Entering is an elderly black woman in a floral print dress
and fruited bonnet.
MRS. MUNSON
Afternoon, Sheriff. You know the
Funthes boy?
SHERIFF WYNER:
...Mackatee Funthes?
MRS. MUNSON
No no, WeeMack! Mackatee's eldest!
SHERIFF WYNER:
Oh yeah, believe I do.
MRS. MUNSON
Well, he's a good boy but he done
gone down to the Costco in Pascagoula
and got hisself a blastah -- and he
been playin' that music!
Wyner is not sure where this is going:
SHERIFF WYNER:
Uh-huh...
MRS. MUNSON
Loud!
SHERIFF WYNER:
Well--
MRS. MUNSON
"Left my wallet in El Segundo!"
SHERIFF WYNER:
He--
MRS. MUNSON
Songs like that!
SHERIFF WYNER:
Uh-huh...
MRS. MUNSON
Hippity-hop music!
SHERIFF WYNER:
I could--
MRS. MUNSON
You know they call it hippity-hop
music, but it don't make me wanna go
hippity-hop!
SHERIFF WYNER:
No ma'am--
MRS. MUNSON
And Othar don't like that music
neither!
Sheriff Wyner now displays an exaggerated solicitousness:
SHERIFF WYNER:
It's been disturbin' Othar then, has
it?
MRS. MUNSON
How could it help but do! That kind
of music! You know what they call
colored folks in them songs? Have
you got any idea?
SHERIFF WYNER:
I don't think I--
MRS. MUNSON
NIGGAZ! I don't wanna say the word.
I won't say it twice, I'll tell you
that. I say it one time.
SHERIFF WYNER:
Yes ma'am.
MRS. MUNSON
In the course a swearin' out my
complaint.
SHERIFF WYNER:
Yes'm--
MRS. MUNSON
NIGGAZ! Two thousand years after
Jesus! Thirty years after Martin
Luther King! The age of Montel! Sweet
lord a-mercy, izzat where we at?
SHERIFF WYNER:
Mm-mm--
MRS. MUNSON
WeeMack down to Pascagoula buyin' a
big thumpy stereo player?! So he can
listen to that word in the house
next to mine? Sheriff, you gotta
help that boy!
SHERIFF WYNER:
Help him?
MRS. MUNSON
You gotta take an innarest! EXTEND
that helpin' hand!
SHERIFF WYNER:
(dubious)
Well, we're here to help...
MRS. MUNSON
Well God bless ya. Don't wanna be
tried and found wantin'.
SHERIFF WYNER:
No ma'am.
MRS. MUNSON
Many many tunkalow parzen, Sheriff
Wyner. Many many tunkalow parzen!
SHERIFF WYNER:
Many what ma'am?
MRS. MUNSON
You have been tried and found wanting.
Don't want that writin' on the wall!
SHERIFF WYNER:
No ma'am--
MRS. MUNSON
Feast a Balthazar!
SHERIFF WYNER:
Mm-hm.
MRS. MUNSON
John The Apostle said: Behold there
is a stranger in our midst, come to
destroy us!
SHERIFF WYNER:
Yes ma'am.
EXT. SAUCIER MUNICIPAL BUILDING - DAY
Mrs. Munson closes the door behind her. She wags a paper fan
and mutters:
MRS. MUNSON
He's a good man. Just needs
instruction. Dog, you in peoples'
way.
The dog stirs with a whine and ambles off.
With a neatly tended garden. It is the last house on a street
of other similarly modest but well maintained homes; beyond
it the street disappears down a bluff. The empty space beyond
suggests a wide river, and indeed we can see the top of an
anchored, gaudily painted paddle-boat poking over the rise.
The paddle-boat is apparently anchored at the near bank of
the river.
Mrs. Munson is entering by the gate. She stops in the garden
and stoops to pull a tiny weed marring the otherwise perfect
row of flowers.
I/E. MUNSON HOUSE - FOYER - DAY
Mrs. Munson lets herself in. A cat lopes up to her, the bell
around its neck tinkling, and leans mewing into her leg.
MRS. MUNSON
You need somethin' to eat, Angel?
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY
Mrs. Munson hand-cranks a can opener around a tin of cat
food.
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"The Ladykillers" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 22 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_ladykillers_891>.
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