The Ladykillers Page #3

They enter a small bedroom. There is a small bed on a brass

frame, a chair, a wash basin, and cheerful yellow chintz

drapes on the window. Dorr appreciatively takes it in.

DORR:

...thoo-out central and southern

Mississippi. We perform on the

instruments for which the music was

originally composed, in the belief

that... that... Why, this is lovely...

MRS. MUNSON

Wait a minute. You got some kind of

band?

Dorr once again wiggles quotes with his fingers:

DORR:

The word "band" would be, in this

context, something of an anachronism.

Though we do play together -- hence

the word "ensemble" -- the nature of

the music is such that one would

hesitate to apply the epithet "band"

with its connotations of jangling

rhythm and ear-popping amplification.

MRS. MUNSON

So you don't play hippity-hop, "I

Left My Wallet in El Segundo," songs

with the titles spelt all funny?

DORR:

Madam, I shudder. I quake. The

revulsion I feel for modern popular

music, and all other manifestations

of contemporary decay, is, I have no

doubt, the equal of y'own. Why, we

play music that was composed to the

greater glory of God. Devotional

music. Church music.

MRS. MUNSON

Gospel music?

DORR:

Well-inspired by the gospels,

certainly. The vintage, of course,

is no more recent than the Rococo.

MRS. MUNSON

Rococo, huh? Well, I guess that'd be

okay.

DORR:

But I certainly don't propose to

inflict our rehearsals on you. May I

enquire -- do you have a root cellar?

INT. MUNSON HOUSE - CELLAR - NIGHT

Dorr ducks while descending the steep, narrow stair in order

to avoid an overhead beam. He is followed by Mrs. Munson.

DORR:

Yes, yes, yes, this looks promising...

He pulls on a hanging string to light a bare bulb overhead.

MRS. MUNSON

Little dank, ain't it?

DORR:

Oh, indeed, but that only improves

the acoustics...

He experimentally claps his hands.

DORR:

...Marvelous. These earthen walls

are ideal for baffling the higher

registers of the, uh, lute and, uh,

sackbutt. That's why so much music

of the cinquecento was played in

crypts and catacombs. Yes, this will

do nicely...

He dry-washes his hands with enthusiasm, but his tone remains

mournful.

DORR:

...This is perfect. This is more

than perfect. I can scarcely contain

my glee.

MRS. MUNSON

You containing it okay.

He starts to peel cash out of a large, well-worn billfold:

DORR:

Allow me to pay you a week in advance.

Allow me to pay you two weeks in

advance. Allow me to pay you a month

in advance. I cannot countenance the

thought of these charming apartments

being tenanted by someone

unappreciative of their special je

ne sais quoi.

MRS. MUNSON

That would be a shame.

INT. CASINO - DAY

TRACKING ON A GARBAGE CART

On the cart is a boombox. It is playing "I Left My Wallet in

El Segundo."

It is being pushed through a casino empty of customers.

As the cart stops and a wastebasket is emptied into it:

VOICE (V.O.)

You gotta peel this sh*t out sticks

to the bottom.

WIDER:

shows two youngish black men in the khaki uniforms of

custodians. Emptying the wastebasket is WEEMACK-MACKATEE

FUNTHES. He is instructing GAWAIN MACSAM.

WEEMACK:

...You wouldn't believe this sh*t,

sometimes even out here on the casino

floor you gonna find sanitary napkin

sh*t stuck there, Tucks, I don't

know what the f*** people do while

they're gambling here man.

GAWAIN:

I ain't peelin' funky sh*t with my

human hands, man. That's a

prescription for disease and viruses

and sh*t, attackin' y'insides.

As they roll on we see more of the gambling floor, which is

on something less than the scale of a Las Vegas casino. The

floor is not yet open and dealers stack and count chips at

the tables, pit bosses with clipboards looking over their

shoulders. Other dealers strap on visors and sleeve garters,

preparing to work.

WEEMACK:

You gotta do it. Mr. Gudge checks

everything. Man is a motherfuck.

Sh*t -- looka this.

After a furtive look around he plucks a chip from the next

wastebasket and slips it in his pocket.

WEEMACK:

...You keep an eye out, man. I found

a hundred-dollar chip once.

GAWAIN:

F*** that, man. I ain't pawin' through

used Tucks for a fi' dollar chip.

WEEMACK:

I said it was a hundred.

GAWAIN:

Man, your guts gonna turn to soup'n

leak outcha f***in' a**hole.

SERVICE HALL:

The cart jitters loudly on the dimpled plastic floor.

WEEMACK:

This tunnel leads back onto land. To

the office for all the people work

for Mannex. Mannex Corporation. Owns

the Lady Luck 'n three other boats...

INT. CASINO - SERVICE HALL - DAY

The two men are entering a windowless fluorescent-lit office

area. A row of wooden office doors and one heavy steel door.

WEEMACK:

...This is where they think on their

corporate sh*t, Gudge and them.

He stops to empty a wastebasket.

WEEMACK:

...The lights is ugly but it ain't

as many Tucks.

He bangs on the steel door:

WEEMACK:

...YO, motherfuck! Lemme in!

MUFFLED VOICE (O.S.)

What's the password?

WEEMACK:

Kiss my ass.

We hear a deep chuckle and the door, steel reinforced, swings

open.

INT. CASINO - COUNTING ROOM - DAY

The two men enter, WeeMack nodding at the security man

(ELRON).

WEEMACK:

This is where they count the dough.

You try to take any of it Elron there

shoot your ass.

Again the security man chuckles. WeeMack picks up some fast-

food wrappers.

WEEMACK:

...This place is a f***in' pigsty.

You a pig, man, nothin' but a squeaky

ol' motherfuckin' pig...

Elron chuckles. He is an enormously fat man; his chuckles

come from deep, deep in his chest.

WEEMACK:

...You got f***in' Kocoa Krispies in

ya uniform man, still got breakfast

there and you eatin' motherfuckin'

lunch.

Elron uses one hand to swipe crumbs off his uniform shirt,

chuckling.

WEEMACK:

...You a disgrace before motherfuckin'

God...

Elron chuckles.

WEEMACK:

...You a motherfuck-- oh, hello Mr.

Gudge, how we be this mornin'?

A man in a buttoned white shirt nods at him.

GUDGE:

Funthes. How's the new man?

WEEMACK:

He is a cleaning motherf***er, man!

GUDGE:

Is that a fact.

INT. SOUNDSTAGE - SMOKING FIELD SET - DAY

HIGH ANGLE:

It is a ruin of a field; charred trees point bare and gnarled

limbs toward a gray sky; smoke drifts across the desolate

waste.

Something is bounding towards us from the deep background.

We BOOM DOWN as it approaches: a bulldog, running avidly

toward us on its stumpy little legs.

An OFFSCREEN male voice (CLARK PANCAKE):

PANCAKE (O.S.)

One, Mountain!

There is an explosion that showers dirt in front of the dog

and makes it veer. Something strapped around the dog's neck

bounces as he runs.

PANCAKE:

...Scrub two! Scrub three! Four,

Mountain!

Another explosion makes the dog veer back so that it once

again bears on us. The thing that has been bouncing around

its neck flies off.

Our CONTINUING BOOM DOWN has brought us to ground level just

as the dog arrives in front of us to feed at a dog food bowl

in the foreground. The yellow plastic bowl has a K-Ration

logo facing us.

We hear another OFFSCREEN voice (DIRECTOR):

DIRECTOR (O.S.)

Cut, goddamnit. His canteen fell

off.

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