The Producers Page #7

LIEBKIND:

(astonished by the question)

Vit the Fuhrer, of course. He

liked me. Out of all the household

staff at Berchtesgarten, I vas his

favorite. I vas the only one

allowed into his chambers at bedtime.

BIALYSTOCK:

No kidding?

LIEBKIND:

Oh, sure. I used to take him his

hot milk and his opium. Achhh,

those were the days. Vat good

times ve had. Dinner parties vit

lovely ladies and gentlemen,

singing und dancing. You know, not

many people knew about it, but the

Fuhrer vas a terrific dancer.

BIALYSTOCK:

Really, I never dreamed ...

LIEBKIND:

(flies into an

indignant rage)

That's because you were taken in by

that verdampter Allied propaganda.

Such filthy lies. But nobody said

a bad vord about Winston Churchill,

did they? Oh no, Vin Vit Vinnie!

(he gestures V for victory)

Churchill, vit his cigars and his

brandy and his rotten paintings.

Couldn't even say Nazi. He would

say Narzis, Narzis. Ve vere not

Narzies, ve vere Nazis. But let me

tell this, and you're getting it

straight from the horse, Hitler vas

better looking than Churchill, he

vas a better dresser than Churchill,

had more hair, told funnier jokes,

and could dance the pants off

Churchill!

BIALYSTOCK:

(swinging along)

That's exactly why we want to do

this play. To show the world the

true Hitler, the Hitler you knew,

the Hitler you loved, the Hitler

with a song in his heart.

(MORE)

40.

BIALYSTOCK (CONT'D)

(to Bloom)

Leo, quick, the contract.

BLOOM QUICKLY WHIPS THE CONTRACT OUT OF HIS POCKET, PRODUCES

A PEN, HANDS THEM TO BIALYSTOCK. BIALYSTOCK SPREADS THE

CONTRACT OUT ON THE TABLE BEFORE LIEBKIND.

BIALYSTOCK:

Here, sign here, Franz Liebkind.

And make your dream a reality.

HE HANDS LIEBKIND THE PEN. LIEBKIND REFUSES IT.

LIEBKIND:

Wait. No. How do I know I can

trust you? How do I know you vill

present this play in the manner and

spirit in vhich it vas conceived?

BIALYSTOCK:

We swear it!

LIEBKIND:

Not good enough... Vould you be

villing to take the Siegfried oath?

BIALYSTOCK:

Yes. We would!

INSERT:
CLOSE-UP BLOOM. HE LOOKS WORRIED.

LIEBKIND:

Good. I will make the preparations.

LIEBKIND LEAVES THE ROOM.

BLOOM:

(anxious whisper)

Max, I don't want to take any

Siegfried Oath. I don't know what

it is, but I don't want to take it.

We might end up in the German Army.

BIALYSTOCK:

Shut up, you idiot. He's a harmless

nut. Play along with him. It's

almost in the bag.

LIEBKIND ENTERS. HE IS LADEN DOWN WITH ALL SORTS OF

RITUALISTIC PARAPHERNALIA. LIEBKIND PLACES ALL THE STUFF ON

THE TABLE. WITHOUT A WORD TO THEM, HE GOES TO PHONOGRAPH.

41.

IN A FEW SECONDS WE HEAR THE OPENING STRAINS OF WAGNER'S

"RIDE OF THE VALKYRIES." AS THE MUSIC BOOMS LOUDER, LIEBKIND

ADDRESSES THEM.

LIEBKIND:

Please to don your helmets.

FROM THE TABLE THEY TAKE CLASSIC WAGNERIAN HELMETS (WITH

HORNS) AND PLACE THEM ON THEIR HEADS.

LIEBKIND:

Please to light your candles.

THEY EACH TAKE A HUGE WHITE CANDLE FROM THE TABLE AND LIGHT

IT. LIEBKIND FLICKS THE LIGHT SWITCH. NOW THEY ARE IN THE

DARK EXCEPT FOR THE GLOW OF THEIR CANDLES.

LIEBKIND:

Please repeat after me. I solemnly

swear...

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

I solemnly swear...

LIEBKIND:

By the sacred memory...

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

By the sacred memory...

LIEBKIND:

Of Siegfried...

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

Of Siegfried...

LIEBKIND:

Wagner...

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

Wagner...

LIEBKIND:

Nietzche...

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

Nietzche...

LIEBKIND:

Bismark...

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

Bismark...

42.

LIEBKIND:

Hindenburg...

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

Hindenburg...

LIEBKIND:

The Graf Spee...

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

The Graf Spee...

LIEBKIND:

The Blue Max...

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

The Blue Max...

LIEBKIND:

And last, but not least, Adolph...

you know who.

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

And last, but not least, Adolph...

you know who.

LIEBKIND:

(saluting)

Heil you know who!

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM

(spiritlessly saluting)

Heil you know who!

LIEBKIND:

Good. Good. Now ve sign the

contract.

BIALYSTOCK:

Good. Good.

(he hands Liebkind

the pen)

LIEBKIND:

No. No. Not in ink. We'll

desecrate the oath. It must be

done in blood.

CUT TO BLOOM'S FACE. IT IS A SILENT OI.

LIEBKIND:

Fingers, please.

43.

BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM EXTEND THEIR FOREFINGERS AND LOOK THE

OTHER WAY. LIEBKIND PRICKS THEM WITH THE SACRED SAFETY PIN,

AND SQUEEZES A FEW DROPS OF BLOOD FROM EACH INTO THE SACRED

VESSEL (A JAR COVER). HE DOES THE SAME WITH HIS OWN FINGER.

LIEBKIND:

Ve vill sign vit this sacred qvill

taken from the last chicken I

served at Berchtesgarten.

LIEBKIND SIGNS. "THE RIDE OF THE VALKYRIES" REACHES ITS

ZENITH. IT ECHOES THROUGH THE ROOM AS WE FADE OUT.

FADE IN ON BIALYSTOCK AND BLOOM AS THEY WALK UP STREET AWAY

FROM TENEMENT. IT IS LATE AFTERNOON. THEY ARE BOTH WEARING

SWASTIKA ARM BANDS.

BIALYSTOCK:

(triumphantly whacking

the contract with the

back of his hand)

There it is... in red and white!

"Springtime For Hitler," signed,

sealed and delivered.

(he notices Bloom's

dour expression)

What's the matter with you?

BLOOM:

Look, I'm just not wearing this arm

band. I don't care how big the

deal is.

BIALYSTOCK:

(placating him)

Okay, take it off, take it off.

THEY TAKE OFF THEIR ARM BANDS AND TOSS THEM INTO A LITTER

BASKET. BIALYSTOCK SPOTS A PASSING TAXI. HE WHISTLES. IT

STOPS.

BIALYSTOCK:

(to cab driver as he

opens door)

The Blue Gypsy.

BLOOM:

(about to enter cab

with Bialystock)

Why are we going to the Blue Gypsy?!

44.

BIALYSTOCK:

(stopping Bloom from

entering cab)

We are not going to The Blue Gypsy.

I am going to The Blue Gypsy.

BIALYSTOCK GETS INTO CAB AND SLAMS THE DOOR. HE CONTINUES

SPEAKING TO BLOOM THROUGH THE WINDOW.

BIALYSTOCK:

I have a rendez-vous with a lady of

some means. You see dear Bloom,

phase one is complete, the play is

ours. We are now entering phase

two -- the raising of the money.

In the days to come, you will see

very little of me, for Bialystock

is launching himself into little-

old-lady-land.

(to cab driver)

Avanti!

THE CAB SPEEDS AWAY.

SWISH PAN CUT TO TIGHT SHOT OF LITTLE OLD LADY #3. IN HER

HAND SHE HOLDS A BUBBLING GLASS OF CHAMPAGNE. SHE RAISES IT

TO BIALYSTOCK.

PULL BACK TO TWO SHOT OF BIALYSTOCK AND LITTLE OLD LADY.

THEY ARE SEATED IN A CORNER BOOTH OF A LITTLE VIENNESE CAFE.

LITTLE OLD LADY #3

Here's to the success of your new

play.

BIALYSTOCK RAISES HIS GLASS.

BIALYSTOCK:

Our play, my love.

HE GALLANTLY INTERTWINES HIS ARMS IN HERS IN A LOVER'S TOAST.

IT IS HARD TO DRINK WITH ARMS ENTWINED, ESPECIALLY IF ONE OF

THE ARMS IS ATTACHED TO A LITTLE OLD LADY. THE TOAST IS A

FIASCO, BIALYSTOCK GETTING MOST OF THE CHAMPAGNE OVER HIS

VEST AND TROUSERS.

LITTLE OLD LADY #3

Oh, I'm sorry, Bialy, did I wet you?

BIALYSTOCK:

Think nothing of it, my dear. A

mere trifle. A mere trifle. Did

you bring your checkbook?

45.

LITTLE OLD LADY #3

It's right here in my purse and I

made it out just as you told me --

to cash. That's a funny name for a

play.

BIALYSTOCK:

Think nothing of it.

SHE SNAPS OPEN HER LITTLE BEADED PURSE, TAKES OUT THE CHECK

AND BEGINS TO HAND IT TO BIALYSTOCK. AT THIS MOMENT, WE ARE

ASSAULTED BY THE PASSIONATE SOUND OF A CRYING VIOLIN.

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