least weve broken the ice.
Do you know a fellow
by the name of Longfellow Deeds?
Deeds?
Yes, sir. Yes, indeedy.
Everyone knows Deeds.
Must be a game hes playing.
Wed like to get in touch with him.
- Whos that?
- Deeds. Who do you think?
Oh, yes, Deeds.
Fine fellow. Very democratic.
You wont have no trouble at all.
Talks to anybody.
- Wed better try somebody else.
- No.
Next time he comes out, Ill
Square.
Greenwich Village.
Rockefeller Center.
Im an artist, and an artist without freedom
is a bird without wings.
Watch where you drive, artist.
I know the same nausea is grabbing at you.
I am content.
Bullshit! You are a gear in a bad machine.
Dont you have a soul?
My soul is standing in line
at the food store.
Gasoline!
Fill them up.
See how corrupt we are.
America is not corrupt? France?
My
square around the rose, then peels
the square of dry wallpaper away from the wall. He studies it in
his hand.
2 EXT. OLD HOUSE -- DAY 2
Somerset stands in front of the old home. He looks out at the
surrounding farms and forests. He ponders something. Birds
sing.
MAN (O.S.)
Is something wrong?
Somerset does not respond, just stares off. The MAN, 34, wears a
real-estate brokers jacket and stands be
least francs.
Why did you leave them? Hurry!
M. Valjean has to get going.
Hes lost a lot of time.
Did you forget to take them?
- Are you saying he told us the truth?
- Of course.
Thank you for bringing him back.
Im very relieved.
Release him.
Youre letting me go?
Didnt you understand the bishop?
Mme Gilot, offer these men some wine.
They must be thirsty.
Thanks.
And dont forget...
dont ever forge
In Her Shoes Script
Your 10-year high school reunion.
Oh, everybody wants to make a good impression,
and I was making mine on...
Ted? Tad? Whatever.
I know, not exactly
Most Likely to Succeed...
but its not like I had
a law degree to brag about...
or a Rittenhouse Square apartment,
or a fancyjob.
- Oh.
- Or a job, period.
- Man.
- Is that it?
Yes, baby, thats-thats it.
There are women... thinner
least an hour.
Sounds good.
My kind of player.
Were playing five-card draw.
Please, sit down.
My name is Mrs. Annabelle Bransford.
I caught that before, maam.
Except the Mrs. .
Ante up.
Im in.
Same game. Chips, sir.
You can lose as much as you want.
Two hundred.
- You did say youd lose for an hour.
- Im a man of my word.
I know.
Place your bets.
Its about time.
Ill see you...
...and raise you .
S
square.
Im not drunk!
Yes, you are.
Orpheus!
- Greetings!
- Youre smashed.
Sit down for a minute.
- Ive driven everyone away.
- Youve entered the lions den.
I wanted to find out..
- What will you have to drink?
- Nothing, thanks. I had a drink.
It was rather bitter.
Youre brave to speak to me.
Im no longer in the battle.
I gave up writing at .
I had nothing new to say.
They respect my silence.
No
least, he was.
If you wanna know the real story, I guess
Im your boy. My names Cole. Bill Cole.
Im Jims lawyer and "best friend."
Jims one of those bright young fellas
you see around.
College graduate, ad business, lovely wife,
two fine kids, makes about a year.
Jim and Muriel Blandings are just like
thousands of other New Yorkers:
Modern cliff dwellers.
The morning it all started was just anothe
least once a week.
The best looking stripper takes it all off. Every man in
the dive watches her but one:
MARTY RACKIN, oldest of the four, keeps his eye on a booth
in the back where a slick drug lawyer named VARGAS talks
with two MEXICANS in sweat clothes and gold jewelry.
HORMAN
Hey baby! Come on down!
As the Stripper dances to their side of the room, Vargas
gives the Mexicans some hundred doll
Square... Baby, I Dont Care". Now, they got him dressed like a dick. Hes wearing these stupid-lookin pants, this horrible sweater. Elvis aint no sweater boy. I even think they got him wearin penny loafers. Despite all that shit, all the highbrows at the party, big house, the stupid clothes, hes still a rude-lookin motherfucker. Id watch that hillbilly and Id want to be him so bad. Elvis looked go