Vertigo Page #2

MIDGE:

No, it's your life. But you were the

bright young lawyer who decided he

was going to be chief of police some

day.

SCOTTIE:

(Gently)

I had to quit, Midge.

MIDGE:

Why?

SCOTTIE:

I wake up at night seeing him fall

from the roof... and try to reach

out for him.

MIDGE:

It wasn't your fault.

SCOTTIE:

I know. Everybody tells me.

MIDGE:

Johnny, the doctors explained --

SCOTTIE:

I know. I have Acrophobia. What a

disease. A fear of heights. And what

a moment to find out I had it.

MIDGE:

Well, you've got it. And there's no

losing it. And there's no one to

blame. So why quit?

SCOTTIE:

And sit behind a desk? Chairborne?

MIDGE:

It's where you belong.

SCOTTIE:

(With a grin)

Not with my Acrophobia, Midge. If I

dropped a pencil on the floor and

bent down to pick it up, it could be

disastrous!

MIDGE:

(Laughs)

Ah, Johnny-O...

She considers him for a moment, then goes back to her work.

By now he is up and wandering about with the help of the

stick.

MIDGE:

(Finally, as she works)

Well?... what'll you do?

SCOTTIE:

Nothing for a while. You forget, I'm

a man of independent means. Or fairly

independent.

MIDGE:

Mmm. Why don't you go away for a

while?

SCOTTIE:

(Grins)

To forget? Don't be so motherly,

Midge. I'm not going to crack up.

MIDGE:

Have you had any dizzy spells this

week?

SCOTTIE:

I'm having one now.

She looks up sharply with quick apprehension.

SCOTTIE:

From that music.

MIDGE:

Oh!

She goes and turns off the gramophone. Scottie has wandered

over to the drawing table.

SCOTTIE:

What's this do-hickey here?

He turns the brassiere over with his stick

MIDGE:

It's a brassiere. You know about

those things. You're a big boy, now.

SCOTTIE:

I've never run across one like that.

MIDGE:

It's brand new. Revolutionary uplift.

No shoulder straps, no back straps,

but does everything a brassiere should

do. It works on the principle of the

cantilever bridge.

SCOTTIE:

(Impressed)

Uh-huh!

MIDGE:

An aircraft engineer down the

peninsula designed it. He worked it

out in his spare time.

SCOTTIE:

What a pleasant hobby.

He wanders back to the chair and watches her work for a long

moment. Then:

SCOTTIE:

How's your love life, Midge?

MIDGE:

That's following a train of thought.

SCOTTIE:

Well?

MIDGE:

Normal.

SCOTTIE:

Aren't you ever going to get married?

MIDGE:

(Lightly)

You know there's only one man in the

world for me, Johnny-O.

SCOTTIE:

Yeah, I'm a brute. We were engaged

once though, weren't we?

MIDGE:

Three whole weeks.

SCOTTIE:

Ah, sweet college days. But you're

the one who blew it. I'm still

available. Available Ferguson. Say,

Midge, do you remember a guy at

college named Gavin Elster?

MIDGE:

Gavin? Gavin Elster? You'd think I'd

would. No.

SCOTTIE:

I got a call from him today. Funny.

He dropped out of sight during the

war, and I'd heard he'd gone East. I

guess he's back.

(he fishes out a slip

of paper)

It's a Mission number.

MIDGE:

That's Skid Row... isn't it?

SCOTTIE:

Could be.

MIDGE:

He's probably on the bum and wants

to touch you for the price of a drink.

SCOTTIE:

Well, I'm on the bum; I'll buy him a

couple of drinks and tell him my

troubles. But not tonight. If you

won't drink with me, I'll drink alone,

tonight.

(He rises to go)

MIDGE:

Sorry, old man. Work.

SCOTTIE:

Midge, what did you mean, there's no

losing it?

MIDGE:

What.

SCOTTIE:

My... the acrophobia.

MIDGE:

I asked my doctor. He said only

another emotional shock could do it,

and probably wouldn't. And you're

not going to go diving off another

rooftop to find out.

SCOTTIE:

I think I can lick it.

MIDGE:

How?

SCOTTIE:

I've got a theory. Look. If I can

get used to heights just a little at

a time... progressively see?

He has been looking about eagerly, sees a low footstool,

drags it to the center of the room as he speaks.

SCOTTIE:

Here, I'll show you what I mean.

We'll start with this.

MIDGE:

That!?!

SCOTTIE:

What do you want me to start with --

the Golden Gate Bridge?

He has stepped up on the footstool and stands there proudly

looking up and down.

SCOTTIE:

Now. I look up, I look down. I look

up, I look down. Nothing to it.

MIDGE:

(Overlapping)

Stop kidding. Wait a minute.

She dashes to the kitchen, returns quickly with a small

aluminum household ladder.

SCOTTIE:

Ah, that's my girl! Here?

He steps on the first step.

MIDGE:

Step number two.

SCOTTIE:

Okay.

He gets up on the second step and goes through the routine.

SCOTTIE:

I look up, I look down. I look up, I

look down. I'm going to go right out

and buy me a nice, tall stepladder.

Here we go.

He gets on the top step.

MIDGE:

Easy, now.

SCOTTIE:

This is a cinch. I look up, I look

down. I look up --

And at this moment he makes the mistake of turning and looking

out through the picture window.

FROM SCOTTIE'S VIEWPOINT

We see the depth down to the street below the window. The

whole picture begins to weave.

INT. MIDGE'S APARTMENT - (LATE AFTERNOON) - CLOSEUP

of Scottie -- expression of nausea.

FROM SCOTTIE'S VIEW POINT - LONG SHOT

The weaving view changes to the original scene where the

ground receded in a rush and the body of the policeman fell

into space.

INT. MIDGE'S APARTMENT - (LATE AFTERNOON) - MEDIUM CLOSE

SHOT:

Scottie's face distorted with agony -- his eyes close and he

begins to slump. CAMERA PULLS BACK SLIGHTLY as Midge now

comes into shot, putting up her hands to him to hold him,

and his weight is on her and his head is slumped, and the

joke is over.

MIDGE:

Johnny!

SCOTTIE:

(Muttering, his face

tight, his eyes shut)

Oh, damn it! Damn it, damn it --

DISSOLVE:

EXT. A SHIPYARD - (DAY) - LONG SHOT

Boats up an ways, men swarming over, cranes moving. At the

gate, Scottie has paused to speak to the gateman. The gateman

indicates a building in the distance, Scottie nods, goes

past him, starts across the shipyard toward the building.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. GAVIN ELSTER'S OFFICE - (DAY)

A well-appointed office with a large window looking out upon

a busy shipyard. There are a couple of models of modern

freighters in glass cases, but more important, on the walls

are many framed prints and posters and maps relating to early

California history; some from the Mexican days, many from

the Gold Rush days, many of San Francisco in the Seventies

and Eighties. Behind the desk sits Gavin Elster, a man about

Scottie's age, huskily built, slightly balding, with cool,

watchful eyes. He is beautifully tailored, and gives the

sense of a man who relishes money and knows how to use it.

He sits quietly watching Scottie, who stands staring out the

window at the activity of the shipyard. After a long moment:

SCOTTIE:

How'd you get into the shipbuilding

business, Gavin?

ELSTER:

I married into it.

Scottie shoots him a small surprised smile of approval at

his frankness, then looks out the window again.

SCOTTIE:

Interesting business.

ELSTER:

No, to be honest, I find it dull.

SCOTTIE:

You don't have to do it for a living.

ELSTER:

No. But one assumes obligations. My

wife's family is all gone; someone

has to look after her interest. Her

father's partner runs the company

yard in the East -- Baltimore -- so

I decided as long as I had to work

at it, I'd come back here. I've always

liked it here.

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