The Ladykillers Page #6

"Amen!"

We are TRACKING among the congregants, disproportionately

women, mostly of middle age and elderly, mostly wearing

elaborate go-to-church hats.

PREACHER:

...It's what's in our hearts, each

and every one of us when we like

them Israelites! Slidin' awa-a-a-ay

down that Godly slope, slippin' and

slidin' toward the mire and muck a

the stinkhole of greed -- that's

DECLINE!

"That's decline!"

The CONTINUING TRACK brings us onto Mrs. Munson, wearing,

like most of her peers, an oversized hat; hers is adorned

with a great deal of plastic fruit.

PREACHER:

...And what did Moses do when he saw

those declinin' backslidin' never-

mindin' sinners?

"What he do?"

PREACHER:

...Moses SMOTE those sinners in his

wrath yes he did!

"Yes he did!"

PREACHER:

...Y'all know what smote is! I smite!

You smite! He smites! We done smote!

"That's right!"

PREACHER:

...To smite is to go UPSIDE the head!

"Uh-huh!"

PREACHER:

...Because sometimes, brothers and

sisters, that is the ONLY way!

"Yes it is!"

PREACHER:

...To smite is to reMIND! We got to

STOP that decline! And scramble back

UP to the face a the almighty Gyod!

"Amen!"

PREACHER:

...'Stead a worshippin' that GOLDEN

calf, that earthly TRASH on that

GARBAGE island! That GARBAGE island

in that shadowland WAY outside the

Kingdom a God!

"Way outside!"

PREACHER:

...That GARBAGE island where scavenger

birds feast on the bones a the

backslidin' damned!

"Yes they do!"

PREACHER:

...And so, let us pray...

EXT. CHURCH - DAY

It is a white clapboard country church. The preacher stands

at the door chatting with the congregants filing out.

WOMAN #1

You preach a wonderful sermon, Brother

Cleothus.

PREACHER:

Why thank you, Sister Rose.

MRS. MUNSON

That man has a lot to say.

WOMAN #1

Yes he does.

MRS. MUNSON

And every word of it the truth.

WOMAN #2

Mm-mm. Jesus well pleased with him.

WOMAN #3

Deed he is.

PREACHER:

Oh now ladies...

WOMAN #3

Pleased as he can be.

WOMAN #1

Mm-mm.

MRS. MUNSON

Stout, too.

WOMAN #1

Mm-mm.

PREACHER:

Oh now you gracious ladies.

INT. MUNSON HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY

Mrs. Munson is at the kitchen table. She folds a five dollar

bill into a sheet of paper, raising her voice as she does

so:

MRS. MUNSON

It was a good sermon. That man has a

lot to say.

INT. MUNSON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY

We have CUT to the portrait of Othar over the mantel. He

does not answer.

From the kitchen:

MRS. MUNSON'S VOICE (O.S.)

...Stout, too. It would've been a

comfort to you...

INT. MUNSON HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY

Mrs. Munson has stuffed the paper-enclosed bill into an

envelope, which she is now laboriously addressing to Bob

Jones University.

MRS. MUNSON

And the choir was all in good voice.

Mm-mm-

There is a knock at the door.

MRS. MUNSON

...Who could that--

The cat yowls and hisses.

I/E. MUNSON HOUSE - FOYER - DAY

As Mrs. Munson swings open the door.

G.H. Dorr stands on the stoop mournfully dry-washing his

hands and obsequiously ducking his head.

DORR:

My dear Mrs. Munson, I do so hope

this is not an inopportune time for

our first practice--

MRS. MUNSON

Somebody die?

DORR:

I beg your-- Oh!

He looks back at the long black vintage Lincoln hearse parked

at the curb behind him.

DORR:

...No no, no bereavement, though it

is so kind of you to enquire. No,

the hearse is simply a vehicle

commodious enough to accommodate all

of the members of our ensemble. And

of course our instruments, contrived

in an age ignorant of

miniaturization...

He turns and gestures at the vehicle.

At his sign, Gawain, the custodian, emerges from the driver's

side.

Clark Pancake emerges from the front passenger side.

The General, wearing a different but equally pressed khaki

suit and ascot, and with a smoking cigarette in his lips,

emerges from a back door.

Gawain goes to the back of the hearse and opens its hatch to

let out Lump Hudson, the football player.

Lump helps unload five large and oddly shaped instrument

cases, each man taking one except for Lump himself, who

carries two. As the parade of losers and misfits winds its

way up the walk:

DORR:

...Let me introduce you to my friends,

my colleagues, these devoted and

passionate musicians... This is Gawain

MacSam, our bassoonist...

Gawain nods as he passes by.

DORR:

...General Nguyen Pham Doc, viola da

gamba...

MRS. MUNSON

No smoking in this house.

The General tosses his cigarette away and bows stiffly as he

passes.

GENERAL:

So sorry.

DORR:

...Clark Pancake -- a multi-

instrumentalist, but with his

remarkable embosser Clark specializes

in wind instruments, and is especially

accomplished on the French horn...

He nods, passes.

DORR:

...And, finally, Aloysius "Lump"

Hudson. Lump is our sackbuttist and --

thank you, Lump -- I see you've also

brought my fiddle...

As he hands Dorr the violin case:

LUMP:

Here's your fiddle, Doctor.

Mrs. Munson sizes up the group.

MRS. MUNSON

You ain't gonna make a racket, are

ya?

DORR:

Oh no. Oh no no no no no. No, we

shall recuse ourselves to the basement

where we shall be -- I think here

the expression is uniquely

appropriate...

He gives a sickly smile.

DORR:

...as quiet as the crypt.

MRS. MUNSON

Hmph.

INT. MUNSON HOUSE - CELLAR - DAY

The General stands stock still, his nose an inch away from

the earthen wall, studying it, squinting through the smoke

of the cigarette pinched between his lips.

The rest of the men are opening their cases and taking out

the instruments. Gawain's case contains, however, not a

musical instrument but a boombox and several tapes. He loads

one of the tapes into the machine.

DORR:

What do you think, General? Present

any problems?

After a beat the General turns away from the wall to give

Dorr a look into which one might read anything, or nothing.

Gawain hits play on the boombox and the cellar is filled

with the fussy strains of baroque chamber music.

Dorr nods.

DORR:

...Good then.

He spreads a map open on the sackbutt case.

DORR:

...All right, gentlemen, why don't

we all crowd around and go over the

plan.

The biggest feature on the map is a wavy, roughly north-south

pair of lines:
a river. A boat icon sits at one edge and

from it a dotted rectangle extends inland.

Dorr taps at the boat icon with his fiddle bow.

DORR:

...This, gentlemen, is the Lady Luck,

gambling den, cash cow, Sodom of the

Mississippi delta -- and the focus

of our little exercise. Here is

Orchard Street...

He is tracing a street that parallels the dotted rectangle

extending from the boat. The street is lined by small house

icons on either side; the bow comes to rest on one of those

icons.

DORR:

...and here is the residence of Marva

Munson, the charming lady whom y'all

met moments ago. Gentlemen...

Bow taps emphasize:

DORR:

...You... are... here. Now. This

brings us to this square...

The bow indicates it, and then withdraws.

Dorr uses the bow as a swagger stick to punctuate as he begins

to pace.

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