The Lost Weekend Page #3

Helen stands at the top of the stairs, blowing her nose.

Wick takes her arm quickly.

WICK:

Come on, Helen.

HELEN:

Oh, Wick, what are we going to do

about him ever.

WICK:

He'll be all right.

HELEN:

What if he goes out and buys another

bottle?

WICK:

With what? He hasn't a nickel. There

isn't a store, there isn't a bar

that'd give him five cents' worth of

credit.

They descend a few steps.

HELEN:

Are you sure he hasn't another bottle

hidden somewhere?

WICK:

Not any more, he hasn't. I went

through the apartment with a fine-

toothed comb. The places he can figure

out!

They go on down the stairs.

A-6 INT. THE APARTMENT

Don stands at the door, panic in his face. Has his brother

discovered the other two bottles? He puts the chain on the

door to insure his privacy, then dashes into the bathroom.

A-7 BATHROOM - BIRNAM APARTMENT

It's old-fashioned, with a bath tub on claw feet, a shower

cutain above it -- all the plumbing on that scale. Don dashes

in, takes a nail file, kneels beside the grille of a register

in the side wall, pries it out with the file, looks inside,

puts his hand in. The bottle is gone. He looks at the hole

wide-eyed, pushes back the grille and runs out.

A-8

Don comes running in, goes to the couch, pulls it away from

the wall, throws himself on his belly on the couch and reaches

under the side of it which was towards the wall. His hand

explores among the springs. There is no bottle there. He

sits up. His face is covered with sweat. He takes out his

handkerchief and wipes his face.

Just then, from the direction of the entrance door, there is

the noise of a key being turned in the lock. Don freezes,

his eyes turning towards the door, horrified.

A-9 ENTRANCE DOOR TO THE APARTMENT (FROM DON'S ANGLE)

It opens as far as the chain will allow, stops with a sharp

bite of metal on wood. There is another try. Then the doorbell

is rung.

He has not stirred. He rises slowly from the couch, takes a

few steps towards the entrance door.

DON:

Who is it?

No answer. Just the doorbell being rung again.

DON:

WHO IS IT?

A-11 CORRIDOR OUTSIDE BIRNAM APARTMENT

At the door stands MRS. FOLEY, a middle-aged charwoman with

a large utility bag over her arm. Her key is in the door,

which is open as far as the chain will permit.

MRS. FOLEY

Mrs. Foley. Come to clean up.

A-12 DON

DON:

(His nerves on edge)

Not today. Does it have to be today?

A-13 MRS. FOLEY

MRS. FOLEY

I ought to change the sheets, and

today's my day to vacuum.

A-14 DON

DON:

You can't come in. I'm not dressed.

A-15 MRS. FOLEY

MRS. FOLEY

Shall I wait, shall I come back, or

what?

DON'S VOICE

You come on Monday.

MRS. FOLEY

All right, Mr. Birnam. Is your brother

here?

DON'S VOICE

No, he isn't.

MRS. FOLEY

How about my money? Didn't he leave

my money?

A-16 DON

He stands galvanized. The word "money" has sent an electric

current through his mind.

DON:

What money?

MRS. FOLEY

My five dollars. Didn't he leave it?

DON:

(Stalking his prey)

Probably. Where would he leave it?

MRS. FOLEY'S VOICE

In the kitchen.

DON:

Where in the kitchen?

MRS. FOLEY'S VOICE

In the sugar bowl.

Don breathes like one who's found the combination to the

safe with the crown jewels.

DON:

Just a minute.

He goes to the kitchenette.

A-17 KITCHENETTE

On the counter under the cupboards stands the sugar bowl.

Don lifts the lid. There's nothing but sugar in the bowl,

but lining the lid is a folded five-dollar bill. Don takes

it out, goes into the entrance hall and even though Mrs.

Foley can't see him, instinctively holds the five dollars

behind his back.

DON:

Sorry, Mrs. Foley. It's not there.

He must have forgotten.

A-18 MRS. FOLEY

MRS. FOLEY

Oh, Putt! I wanted to do some

shopping.

DON'S VOICE

You'll get it Monday all right.

MRS. FOLEY

Goodbye, Mr. Birnam.

She closes the door, takes the key and starts down the stairs.

A-19 DON

He brings the five dollars from behind his back. He looks at

it, folds it neatly, pockets it, puts on his hat, then, with

an afterthought, goes into the living room. He pushes the

couch back against the wall with his foot, then goes out.

A-20 FOURTH FLOOR HALL AND STAIRS

Don goes to the balustrade, looks down.

A-21 STEEP SHOT OF THE STAIRS

Don's head in the foreground. The coast is clear of Mrs.

Foley. Like a convict escaping, Don slips down the stairs.

SLOW DISSOLVE TO:

A-22 BROPHY'S LIQUOR STORE - (TRANSP.) - CLOSE SHOT OF LIQUOR

BOTTLES:

A rackful of them, filling the screen. THE CAMERA IS BEHIND

the rack of liquor in a store on Third Avenue. THE CAMERA

MOVES slowly toward them so that only about eight bottles

fill the screen and we can see, between them, the shop, its

window on Third Avenue, its entrance door. No one is visible

in the shop.

Through the glass door we see Don Birnam hurrying up. He

gives a quick glance in each direction, to see that he's not

observed. He peers into the shop to make sure there are no

other customers, then quickly steps inside and stands

breathing heavily.

A salesman rises in the foreground, his back to the CAMERA.

Don points to two bottles in the foreground.

DON:

(With all the

nonchalance he can

scrape together)

Two bottles of rye.

SALESMAN:

I'm sorry, Mr. Birnam.

DON:

What are you sorry about?

SALESMAN:

Your brother was in here. He said

he's not going to pay for you any

more. That was the last time.

DON:

He won't, huh?

He takes the five dollars from his pocket and unfurls it,

like a card trickster.

DON:

Two bottles of rye.

SALESMAN:

What brand?

DON:

You know what brand, Mr. Brophy. The

cheapest.

SALESMAN:

All right.

DON:

None of that twelve-year-old, aged-

in-the-wood chichi. Not for me. Liquor

is all one, anyway.

The salesman has taken two bottles from the rack in the

foreground and put them on the counter. Don gives him the

money and picks up the bottles like a miser grabbing gold.

SALESMAN:

Don't you want a bag?

DON:

Yes, I want a bag.

The salesman hands him a bag and steps out of the shot towards

the cash register. We hear the ping of its bell, the opening

of its drawer. Meanwhile, Don thrusts the bottles in the

bag. It is a little short and the necks of the bottles

protrude. The salesman hands him his change. Don pockets it.

SALESMAN:

You know, your brother asked me not

to sell you anything even if you had

money, but I can't stop nobody, can

I, not unless you're a minor.

DON:

I'm not a minor, Mr. Brophy, and

just to quiet your conscience, I'm

buying this as a refill for my

cigarette lighter.

Another customer enters the shop. Don takes the package and

walks past the newcomer towards the door, hiding it from him

gracefully, like a football in a sneak play.

A-23 THIRD AVENUE, OUTSIDE BROPHY'S LIQUOR SHOP

Don comes out with the bottles in the paper bag. He wants to

start down the street but about twenty-five feet away stand

two middle-aged Hokinson ladies, one of them kerbing her dog

on a leash. They are chatting.

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote