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The Ladykillers Page #15
We hear Voices:
PANCAKE (O.S.)
Perfectly all right. Not a problem.
LUMP (O.S.)
Well there sure as sh*t ain't no
tunnel left.
The clearing dust reveals the caped Professor anxiously
dancing from foot to foot, gathering money out of the air.
As he reaches up to grab a bill that has him facing up in
Mrs. Munson's direction, he freezes.
His POV reveals her through dissipating dust.
MRS. MUNSON
Professor, I'm surprised.
There is a long beat, through which all stare at her.
DORR:
...Properly speaking, madam, we have
been surprised; you are taken aback.
Though I acknowledge that the sense
you intend is gaining currency through
increasing use.
Further dissipation of the dust reveals how much money there
is, settling now to cover the floor of the cellar.
DORR:
...You have returned from your
devotions betimes.
We hear the ring of the doorbell.
MRS. MUNSON
I hadda fix tea. I wanna talk to
you, Professor, don't you be leavin'.
And don't make any more noise! And
you!
She points at the General who, in the excitement, has
neglected to hide his ever-present cigarette.
MRS. MUNSON
...I told you, I don't want any
smokin' in here!
She clomps upstairs and shuts the cellar door.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM
We PULL HER towards the front door, angry and lost in thought.
Her look softens somewhat as she opens the door.
It is a chattering infestation of hens: all of her friends
from church push in wearing church dresses and elaborate
hats.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - CELLAR - DAY
The men are still frozen looking up toward the door. The
muted cackle of church ladies.
The men gradually unfreeze.
LUMP:
She saw everything. She saw our
hole...
He turns to Dorr, near tears:
LUMP:
...She saw our hole, Professor!
Dorr rubs his hands anxiously, thinking:
DORR:
Yes... Yes...
LUMP:
What do we do?
DORR:
Well, first, my dear boy, we follow
the General's example...
The General remains staring up at the door, frozen but for
the smoke pluming from the cigarette in his mouth.
DORR:
...and refrain from panic. Secondly,
we cooly, calmly, collectedly think...
think...
The gaze of all the men drifts back up to the cellar door,
and we look down at them, gazing up.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY
The chattering ladies are gathered at the table, Mrs. Munson
pouring them tea.
The cellar door creaks noisily -- one might almost say
gothically -- ajar, and the Professor peers out with an
ingratiating smile.
DORR:
Hsst... Madam...
The chattering abates and the ladies all look at him. His
smile broadens into ghastliness and he crooks a finger toward
Mrs. Munson.
DORR:
...Mrs. Munson, if I might have a
word...
MRS. MUNSON
You get back down those stairs!
DORR:
MRS. MUNSON
Hush! Down those stairs! We havin'
tea now! I be down shortly.
He nods meekly and retreats, easing the door creakily shut.
The ladies look inquisitively at Mrs. Munson as his footsteps
are heard descending the stair.
MRS. MUNSON
...He's the tenant.
LADIES:
Mm-hm.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - CELLAR DAY
As the Professor rejoins the still staring and silent group.
The money has been picked up and is once again in stacks
upon the table.
DORR:
She shall be down shortly...
Explaining, he indicates upstairs with a jerk of the head:
DORR:
...Tea. Dainties.
The men nod, murmuring.
The cellar door squeaks open. There is the clomp of careful
footsteps on the stair.
Using only tongue and teeth, the General flips his smoking
cigarette inwards into his mouth and gives Mrs. Munson his
usual deadpan look.
She halts halfway down the stairs, still wearing an apron
and holding a spatula.
MRS. MUNSON
I don't know what you boys been up
to but I wasn't born yesterday and I
know mischief when I see it. Now I
want an explanation, but first I
want you boys to get your fannies up
here with y'alls period instruments.
I been tellin' the ladies about your
music and they wanna hear you play.
She turns to head back up the stairs but abruptly stops to
turn and give the General a hard look which he innocently
returns.
MRS. MUNSON
...Hmph.
She turns again and clomps back up the stairs.
The General opens his mouth and, again without using his
hands, restores his cigarette to its usual place on his lower
lip.
Lump is fretful:
LUMP:
Professor?
DORR:
Yes, Lump?
LUMP:
I can't really play the buttsack.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY
The cellar door opens and the men troop out, G.H. Dorr leading
and the other men following rather sheepishly behind.
DORR:
Madame -- or rather, mesdames -- you
will have to accept our apologies
for failing to perform since, as you
see, we are shorthanded. Gawain is
still at work and we could no more
play with one part tacit than a horse
could canter shy one leg.
LADIES:
Mm-hmm.
MRS. MUNSON
Hmph.
DORR:
Perhaps I could offer as a poor but
ready substitute a brief poetic
recital. Though I don't pretend to
great oratorical skills, I will
happily present, with your ladies'
permission, verse from the unquiet
mind of Mr. Ed G'Allan Poe.
Lump, Pancake, and the General sit and awkwardly accept dainty
teacups.
The Professor rises, spreads his hand, and pronounces:
DORR:
..."Ladies, thy beauty is to me Like
those Nicean barks of yore..."
CLOSE-UPS of the various ladies, some sipping tea or slowly
munching biscuits, but all eyes glued to the declaiming man
in the cape.
DORR:
"That gently, o'er a perfumed sea
The weary, wayworn wanderer bore To
his own native shore... "
Murmuring Voice:
VOICE:
Amen.
A slurp of tea from another quarter.
Dorr bears on:
DORR:
"On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece And the
grandeur that was Rome... "
A long silence.
Then, scattered:
VOICES:
Mm-mm. Glory hallelujah.
A lady holding a teacup turns to the General:
LADY:
That was soooome poem.
LADY:
...You know any?
We hear the front door opening and Gawain enters, still
wearing his Lady Luck custodial uniform. He looks.
His POV:
church ladies with teacups and his comrades seatedamong them, also holding teacups and scones.
GAWAIN:
Y'all been celebratin'?.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - FOYER - LATER (EVENING)
The bustling and chattering ladies are just finishing leaving;
Mrs. Munson is seeing them off at the door. Evening is
gathering, and we hear the lonely toot of the distant garbage
scow.
The men as well stand by the door and, affecting good cheer,
wave off the departing ladies.
DORR:
Goodbye, ladies. We had such a
pleasant time.
Mrs. Munson closes the door and her manner instantly darkens.
MRS. MUNSON
Now, I wanna know what's goin' on.
DORR:
Yes indeed, and the thirst for
knowledge is a very commendable thing.
Though in this instance, I believe
when you hear the explanation, you
will laugh riotously, slappin' your
knee and perhaps even wipin' away a
giddy tear, relieved of your former
concern.
MRS. MUNSON
Hmph.
DORR:
You see Lump here is an enthusiastic
collector of Indian arrowheads and,
having found one simply lying on
your cellar floor, a particularly
rare artifact of the Natchez tribe,
he enlisted us in an all-out effort
to sift through the subsoil in search
of others. Well, in doing so, we
apparently hit a motherlode of natural
gas -- I myself became acutely aware
of the smell of "rotten eggs" -- and
it was at just this unfortunate moment
that the General here violated one
of the cardinal rules of this house
and lit himself a cigarette.
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"The Ladykillers" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 31 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_ladykillers_891>.
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