The Trouble with Harry
- PG
- Year:
- 1955
- 99 min
- 1,302 Views
OK! I know how to handle your type.
Well, old faithful,|that's your shooting for the day.
If we haven't rung up|at least two rabbits,
we deserve to go home empty-handed.
Yeah, still, blessed are they|who expect nothing.
for they shall not be disappointed.
Mm. Fewer things in life give a man|more pleasure than hunting.
It satisfies his primitive nature,
striding through the woods,|picking up his kill.
Well, come on, old faithful.
There's plump rabbits|waiting for the frying pan.
If this can had four legs and a tail,|we'd be eating it tonight.
Clean through the heart.
For rice cake! I've done him in.
Cor.
A harmless pot-shot at a rabbit|and I'm a murderer, a killer.
Mother always said|I'd come to a bad end.
What in Hades were you doing here|anyway?
I can't say that I've seen you|around here before.
No. If you're going to get yourself|shot, do it where you're known.
"Mr Harry Worp,
87 Maple Avenue,|Boston, Massachusetts. "
Worp, you're a long way from home.
With the looks of it, you won't|get back for Christmas, now.
We're going to have a cold,|hard winter.
Mm. You might keep here a long time,|an awful long time.
Too long for me, Harry.
Yes.
Captain Wiles?
Yes, ma'am?
What seems to be the trouble,|Captain?
It's what you might call|an unavoidable accident.
- He's dead.|- Yes.
I would say that he was. Of course,|that's an unprofessional opinion.
Yeah. Did you...|did you know him, Miss Gravely?
- No. Doesn't live around here.|- Well, he died around here.
- That's what counts now.|- Embarrassing.
What do you plan to do with him,|Captain?
Miss Gravely, without cutting the hem|off truth's garment,
I'm gonna hide him, cover him up,
forget him.
Are you never going to inform|the police, Captain?
No. Forget you saw me, Miss Gravely.
Chase it out of your mind, for|heaven's sake, it was an accident.
He was poking around the clearing|and I thought he was a rabbit.
It was a human error.|Ah, now, please, don't...
Don't say anything to anybody,|Miss Gravely.
Do as you think best, Captain.
I'm sure you must have met|many similar situations
in your travels in foreign lands.
- Yeah, I've seen much worse things.|- I certainly won't say anything.
Much worse things.|I remember when I was on the Orinoco.
We had a Turk, a great, big Turk,|running amuck with a machete -
Captain, if I were going to hide|an accident, I shouldn't delay.
Oh. Oh.|You're right as rain, Miss Gravely.
Yes. You know something?|I'm glad I met you today.
I feel better for telling someone|as warm,
tender, understanding as yourself.
Well, on the contrary, Captain. It...
It...
I'm certainly glad|if I helped you, Captain.
Perhaps you would care to come over|for some blueberry muffins
and coffee later on,|high-bush blueberries?
Ah, well. This is certainly something|of an interesting surprise.
- And maybe some elderberry wine.|- Oh!
After all, we've been neighbours|for nearly three years now and...
we've never exchanged social calls.
You're right.|It's high time I paid a call.
- What time?|- Oh, say, early this afternoon.
I'll be there with a clean shirt|and a hungry face.
Do that.
You better be going now. Don't want|to be an accessory after the fact.
You are a considerate man,|Captain Wiles.
- Goodbye.|- Goodbye.
We're almost there, Mommy!
Here he is, Mommy. Here he is.
- What did I tell ya, Mommy?|- Don't touch it, Arnie.
- There he is.|- No. It can't be! Harry!
Harry, thank Providence,|the last of Harry.
- Who's Providence, Mommy?|- A very good friend.
- Don't you know who it is?|- You said Harry.
- Can't you remember, Arnie?|- Why don't he get up and move?
He's asleep.
He's in a deep sleep,|a deep, wonderful sleep.
How'd he hurt his head?
Putting it where it wasn't wanted,|would be my guess.
- Will it get better?|- Not if we're lucky.
Let's run home|and I'll make you some lemonade.
Will lemonade put me in a wonderful,|deep, deep sleep, Mommy?
No, Arnie, but it's better|than no lemonade.
- I don't understand that.|- Never mind. Forget you saw him.
- Is there a special way to forget?|- Just think of something else.
- I'll try not to see him tomorrow.|- That's a good boy, Arnie.
Now, let's run home|and get that lemonade.
She won't care what I do with him.
Couldn't have had more people here|if I'd sold tickets.
What's the big attraction, I wonder?
This could turn out to be|the luckiest day of my life.
I'll just wait till the whole world|comes to pay their last respects.
Sooner or later one of them has|to turn out to be the Deputy Sheriff.
# Flaggin' the train to Tuscaloosa
# Flaggin' the train that's going home
# Flaggin' the train to Tuscaloosa
# Never no more, no more to roam
# Gotta get back to Tuscaloosa
# Got a sweet gal who's on my mind
# Gotta get back to Tuscaloosa
# Back to the gal I left behind
# Got no baggage
# Just got my fare
# But all I need yes, indeed
# Is waitin' for me there|Flaggin' the train to Tuscaloosa
# Oh how I love that choo-choo sound
# Flaggin' the train to Tuscaloosa
# Flaggin' the train|that's homeward bound
# Gotta get back to Tuscaloosa
# Got a sweet gal who's on my mind
# Gotta get back to Tuscaloosa
# Back to the gal I left behind
# Got no baggage
# Just got my fare
# But all I need yes, indeed
# Is waitin' for me there #
Hello, Mr Marlowe.
Wiggy, you haven't sold a painting.|All my pictures in the same place.
So few cars. They don't... I guess|the cider takes their attention.
Cider, indeed.|Throw it away! Drink it.
- No, I hate cider.|- Not a picture sold.
I'm sorry, Mr Marlowe. Let's get|a look at your new one. Hold it up.
What good would it do? You don't|deserve to see it. How will I eat?
Mr Wiggs always used to thump|his stomach when he got mad.
He busted somethin' inside once.
You think we'd do any better|on 5th Avenue?
If there's more people there.
Oh, lots of people. Hundreds|and thousands and billions of people.
- It might be better then.|- But what sort of people, Wiggy?
What breed? I'll tell you.
They're little people,|little people with hats on.
How are your cigarettes?
I'll buy the other half tomorrow.
What does your son do with all those|old cars he always works on?
He sells 'em. Mechanical antiques.|Doesn't make much, needs the money.
Hm. Doesn't he get paid|for being deputy sheriff?
Piecework.|Gets paid by the arrest, I think.
Ah, Mr Marlowe, it's wonderful.
- I've been in a tortured mood.|- What is it?
Good old Wiggy, my sternest critic.
I don't understand it but I think|it's beautiful. Mrs Rogers agrees.
- Oh? You talk about me?|- Well, I...
She's the pretty woman|with the little boy, isn't she?
Mm-hm.|I only brought up your name once
when we were talking|about strange people.
- Huh?|- That is, strangers.
- Oh.|- People she hadn't met yet.
What does the pretty,|little thing say about me?
Nothin'.
I think we better discuss business.|Here, my shopping list.
I'll go in and start puttin' it up.
Wiggy, how do you spell Tuscaloosa?
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"The Trouble with Harry" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_trouble_with_harry_22293>.
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