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Man on the Moon      Man on the Moon (1999)      by Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski.FADE IN:INT. VOID -DAYStanding in a nonexistent set is ANDY KAUFMAN, looking a bitnervous.  Wide-eyed, tentative, he stares at us with aneedy, unsettling cuteness.  His hair is slicked-down, andhe wears the "FRIENDLY WORLD"costume from the Andy Kaufmanspecial.Finally, Andy speaks -- in a peculiar FOREIGN ACCENT. ANDY (AS FOREIGN MAN) Hallo.  I am Andy.  Welcoom to my movie. (beat; he gets upset) I hoped the story ofmy life would be nice...but it turned out terrible!  It is all LIES!  Tings are mixed up... real people I knew play different people.  WHAT A MESS! So I broke into Universal and cut out the junk.  Now it's much shorter.  Infact, this is the end of the movie.  So tanks for comink! Bye-bye!Andy puts a needle on a phonograph, and swelling CLOSINGCREDITS MUSIC starts to play.  FINAL CREDITS roll.Andy stands frozen, awkwardly lookingat the audience.Every time the music ends he picks up the needle andrestarts the music.  He does that as many times as thecredits require.Finally, CREDITS END.  And then--a sly smile.  He leans in.DROPS HISACCENT and WHISPERS. ANDY (AS REGULAR VOICE) Okay!  Just my friends are left.  I wanted to get rid of those other people... they would have laughed in the wrong places. (beat) I was only kidding aboutthe movie... it's actually PRETTY GOOD! It shows everything... from me as a little boy until my death -- (his eyes pop; he covers his mouth) Oops!!  I wasn't supposed to talk about that!  Oh.  Eh, uh, we better justbegin.  It starts back in Great Neck, Long Island...Andy turns to a primitive 16mm PROJECTOR and turns it on.WHIR!  He smiles at the flickering light. ANDY Oh, yes.  I remember it well...We PUSH INTO thewhite light.  It fills our frame, blazingwhiter, whiter...       DISSOLVE TO:EXT. KAUFMAN HOUSE - 1957 - DAYA BLACK AND WHITE image slowly becomes COLOR.  Great Neck,1957.  An upper-classJewish neighborhood.  In the street,crewcut BOYS play t-ball, laughing and shouting.  A fatconvertible pulls up to the smallest house, and STANLEYKAUFMAN, 40, gets out.  Still in his suit, he's a well-meaning slave tohis job -- tired, responsible.Stanley goes over to admire the t-ball game.  At bat is hisson MICHAEL, 6, a natural charmer.  Michael swings -- crack!-- and hits a solid single.  Stanley smiles. STANLEY That's myboy!  Good swingin', kiddo. (warm beat; then a look) Hey -- Michael... where's your brother? MICHAEL He's inside.Instantly -- Stanley's mood turns black.  He frowns angrily,then snatches his briefcase andmarches in.INT. KAUFMAN HOUSE, KITCHEN - 1957 - DAYBaby CAROL is crying.  Mom JANICE, 35, quickly peelscarrots, trying to get dinner made.  Stanley marches past. STANLEY Is he in hisroom? JANICE Of course he's in his room. (aggravated) All his "friends" are in there.Stanley glowers.  He huffs upstairs.INT. KAUFMAN HOUSE, HALLWAY - 1957 - DAYStanley hurries up to Andy'sshut door.  We hear little Andydoing VOICES. ANDY (O.S.) (as WORRIED GIRL) But professor, why are the monsters growing so big? (now as BRITISH PROFESSOR) It's something in the junglewater. I need to crack the secret code.Stanley rolls his eyes.  He opens the door...INT. KAUFMAN HOUSE, ANDY'S ROOM - 1957 - DAY...revealing ANDY, 8, performing for the wall.  Andy ishappy andenthusiastic... as long as he's acting. ANDY (as BRITISH PROFESSOR) Maybe I should talk to the natives. (as dancing NATIVES) Shoom boom boo ba!  Shoom boom boo ba -- STANLEYAndy! ANDY (startled) Oh!The boy suddenly turns off, becoming introverted... awkward.Frustrated, Stanley stares at his son. STANLEY Andy, this has to stop.  Our house isn't a televisionstation.  There is not a camera in that wall.Andy glances over at the wall.  Hmm. STANLEY (cont'd) (trying to cope) Son... listen to me.  It isn't healthy.  You should be outside, playing sports. ANDY But I'vegot a sports show. Championship wrestling, at five. STANLEY (he blows his top) You know that's not what I meant! Look, I'm gonna put my foot down! No more playing alone.  You wanna perform, you GOTTAhave an audience! ANDY (he points at the wall) B-but I have them. STANLEY No!  That is NOT an audience!  That is PLASTER!  An audience is people made of flesh!  They -- live and breathe!  Gotit?!Andy thinks, considering his options.  Then, he nods. CUT TO:INT. KAUFMAN HOUSE, FAMILY ROOM - 1957 - LATER THAT DAYBaby Carol sits in her crib.  Andy's hands suddenly YANKherout.INT. KAUFMAN HOUSE, ANDY'S ROOM - 1957 - DAYAndy hurries in and plops Carol down on the floor.  Shedutifully sits there, deadpan.Andy returns to the center of the room.  He resumeshisshow. ANDY (as KIDDIE SHOW HOST) And now, boys and girls!  It's time for... TV Fun House! (he makes an APPLAUSE SOUND) Hi, everybody!  Are you ready for a singalong?  I'll saythe animal, and you make his sound!  Okay...?  Okay! (he starts to SING) "Oh, the cow goes........."Carol stares, unblinking.  Then -- CAROL Moo. ANDY (he smiles, pleased) "And the doggoes......" CAROL WOOF! ANDY "And the cat says......"       DISSOLVE TO:INT. NY NIGHTCLUB - 1975 - NIGHTTIGHT on ANDY, now GROWN UP.  26-years-old, stillperformingthe song. DRUNK AUDIENCE MEOW!!WIDE - It's a small, hip New York nightclub. ANDY "And the bird says..." DRUNK AUDIENCE TWEET!! ANDY"And the lion goes..." DRUNK AUDIENCE ROAR!! ANDY "And that's the way it goes!" (he grins) Thank you.  Goodbye!Andy waves and bows.  There's faint scattered applause.Andysighs.  An irritated MANAGER steps onstage.  He shootsAndy a disgruntled look, then takes the mike. MANAGER The comedy stylings of Andy Kaufman, Ladies and Gentlemen!In the b.g., Andy starts packingup his props: Hand puppets,conga drums, a phonograph... it all goes into a big bulkycase.   CUT TO:INT. NY NIGHTCLUB - 1975 - LATER THAT NIGHTThe club is empty.  At the bar, the managercleans up.  Andyeagerly comes over.  Offstage, his presence is soft, placid-- his voice barely above a whisper. ANDY So, Mr. Besserman, same slot tomorrow...? MANAGER (awkward) Eh, I dunno...Andy.  I'm... thinkin' of letting you go... ANDY You're firing me?? (beat) You don't even pay me! MANAGER Look -- I don't wanna seem insulting.  But... your act is like amateur hour: Singalongs...puppets... playing records...A stunned beat.  Andy is hurt. ANDY What do you want?  "Take my wife, please"?? MANAGER Sure!  Comedy!  Make jokes about the traffic.  Do impressions.  Maybe alittle blue material... ANDY I don't swear.  I -- I don't do what everyone else does! MANAGER Well, everyone else gets this place cookin'!  Pal, it's hard for me to move the booze when you're singin'"Pop Goes The Weasel."Andy stares, disheartened.    MANAGER (cont'd) I'm sorry.  You're finished here.An uncomfortable beat -- and then Andy starts crying.The manager is dumbfounded.  He doesn't know what todo.Tears are rolling pitifully down Andy's cheeks.  The manageris confused -- totally disoriented.  Shamed, Andy covers hisface, then runs out.  Silence.  The manager stares afterhim... having no idea what justhappened.EXT. NY NIGHTCLUB - 1975 - NIGHTSobbing Andy bursts out the door.  He steps onto thesidewalk -- and IMMEDIATELY STOPS CRYING.  Just like that.Andy lifts his big case and startswalking.  Andy shakes hishead angrily.He turns down a dark street, hurrying alone through anunsavory New York neighborhood.  But then... TWO MENappear... silently approaching.  Andy stops uncertainly --debatingwhether to turn around.  But in that second -- thethugs are upon him, glaring menacingly. THUG #1 Give us your wallet.Andy stares fearfully.  An anxious moment.  He thinks...considering his options.Then,he suddenly stammers in a thick FOREIGN ACCENT. ANDY (AS FOREIGN MAN) I -- doo not unterstand!! THUG #1 Give us your money! ANDY (AS FOREIGN MAN) What??  Whatmooney?  Abu daboo!  I do not have mooney!The thugs glance at each other. ANDY (AS FOREIGN MAN) (cont'd) Pleaze!  I just move to America yezterday!  I do not know! THUG #1 What's in the case?ANDY (AS FOREIGN MAN) NO!  Eeet, eet is just perzonal trifles from my homeland -- THUG #2 Shut up!  Gimme that thing!The guy snatches the case.  He impulsively BREAKS thelock... and clothes,congas and records fall out.The thugs are dismayed. THUG #1 Goddamn immigrants! THUG #2 This guy's pathetic.  Let's go.Harsh glances.  They angrily turn and leave.Andy takes a nervous breath,then starts picking his thingsoff the street.  He shouts after the guys: ANDY (AS FOREIGN MAN) Tank you veddy much...! CUT TO:EXT. NY IMPROV - 1975 - NIGHTThe Improv, the biggestcomedy club around.  People arelined up, waiting.  The man strides up -- GEORGE SHAPIRO, aHollywood talent manager.  George is old school: Bronxaccent, shmooze and a hug... but with a surprising sweetnessthat isquite disarming.  A DOORMAN sees him, grins, andwaves George in.INT. NY IMPROV, BAR - 1975 - NIGHTThe bar is packed with COMICS and SHOW BIZ TYPES.  A fewturn and smile -- "George!"  "Hey,George!"  George takes acouple hands, whispers to someone else, then drifts intothe...INT. NY IMPROV, SHOWROOM - 1975 - NIGHTWhere the show's in progress.  Owner BUDD FRIEDMAN seesGeorge andgives him a bear-hug.  Then he hustles George toa table.George sits -- and gives the stage his undivided attention.Up there is a WISEASS COMIC. WISEASS COMIC So I'm getting my mother-in-law a specialChristmas present: A pre- paid funeral!  The mortician asked me if I wanted her buried, embalmed or cremated.  I said, "Make it all three!  I'm not takin' any chances!" (the crowd LAUGHS) Thank you.  Good night!Thecomic waves and exits.  APPLAUSE.  George politelyclaps.  A PIANO PLAYER jumps in with an upbeat show tune.We think there's a break... when Andy suddenly, awkwardlysteps on stage.  He is in character as ForeignMan.  Pinkjacket, tie, hair slicked back, frightened like a deer inheadlights.  He puts down his big case, pulls out variousjunk, and arranges it on chairs.The room hushes, uncertain as to who the hell this guy is.Andytentatively grabs the mike.  The stagefright is agony. ANDY (AS FOREIGN MAN) Now?  Now...? (looking around) Tank you veddy much.  I am very happy to be here.  I tink -- this is a very beautiful place.  Butone ting I do not like is too much traffic.  Tonight I had to come from, eh, and the freeway, it was so much traffic.  It took me an hour and a half to get here!Andy chuckles, as if this were a punchline.Silence.  The crowdis baffled. ANDY (AS FOREIGN MAN) (cont'd) But -- talking about the terrible things: My wife.  Take my wife, please take her.Yikes.  A few NERVOUS LAUGHS.Andy gestures, as if they got the joke. ANDY (AS FOREIGN


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BLACK SCREENSUPER: New Line Cinema PresentsSUPER: A Wingnut Films ProductionBLACK CONTINUES... ELVISH SINGING....AWOMAN'S VOICE ISwhispering, tinged with SADNESS and REGRET:                    GALADRIEL (V.O.)              (Elvish: subtitled)          "I amar prestar sen: han mathon ne nen,          han mathon nechae...a han noston ned          wilith."              (English:)          The world is changed: I feel it in the          water, I feel it in the earth, I smell it          in the air...Much that once was is lost,          for none now live whoremember it.SUPER: THE LORD OF THE RINGSEXT. PROLOGUE -- DAYIMAGE: FLICKERING FIRELIGHT. The NOLDORIN FORGE in EREGION.MOLTEN GOLD POURS from the lip of an IRONLADLE.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.)          It began with the forging of the Great          Rings.IMAGE: THREE RINGS, each set with a single GEM, are receivedby the HIGH ELVES-GALADRIEL, GIL-GALADand CIRDAN.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          Three were given to the Elves, immortal,          wisest...fairest of all beings.IMAGE: SEVEN RINGS held aloft in triumph by the DWARFLORDS.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          Seven to the Dwarf Lords, great miners          and craftsmen of the mountain halls.IMAGE: NINE RINGS clutched tightly by the KINGS OF MEN...asifholding-close a precious secret.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          And Nine...nine rings were gifted to the          race of Men who, above all else, desire          power.                    (MORE)                                                   (CONTINUED)                                                              2.CONTINUED:                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          Forwithin these rings was bound the          strength and will to govern each race.                                                   FADE TO BLACK                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          But they were all ofthem deceived.FADE UP: An ancient PARCHMENT MAP of MIDDLE EARTH...movingslowly across the MAP as if drawn by an unseen force theCAMERA closes in on a PLACE NAME...MORDOR.                    GALADRIEL(V.O.) (CONT'D)          ...for another ring was made.TEASING SHOTS: SAURON forging the ONE RING in the CHAMBERS ofSAMMATH NAUR.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          Inthe land of Mordor, in the fires of          Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged          in secret a Master Ring to control all          others.IMAGE: The ONE RING reflecting FIERY LAVA!   FIRE WRITINGemerges on theplain BAND OF GOLD.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          ...and into this Ring he poured his          cruelty, his malice and his will to          dominate all life.IMAGE: THE ONE RING falls throughSPACE and into flames...                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          One Ring to rule them all...IMAGE: A GREAT SHADOW falls across the MAP...closing inaround the realm of GONDOR...IMAGE:SCREAMING VILLAGERS, MEN, WOMEN, AND CHILDREN, RUNfrom their homes, pursued by ARMIES OF HIDEOUS ORCS.                    GALADRIEL          One by one the Free lands of Middleearth          fell to the power of the ring.                                                   FADE TO BLACK                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          But there were some...whoresisted.                                                    (CONTINUED)                                                              3.CONTINUED:FADE UP: ISILDUR, son of the KING OF GONDOR, leads anARMYACROSS the PLAINS OF DAGORLAD...                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          A last alliance of Men and Elves marched          against the armies of Mordor.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.)(CONT'D)          On the slopes of Mount Doom they fought          for the freedom of Middle- Earth.TEASING SHOTS: THE BATTLE OF DAGORLAD...THE ELF LORD, ELROND,commands rank after rank ofELVEN ARCHERS...ORCS RETREATINGbefore the ARMY of the LAST ALLIANCE...ELENDIL holds aloftthe great sword....NARSIL!                    GALADRIEL          Victory was near!IMAGES: THE HUGE, DARKFIGURE OF SARURON, bearing the ONERING on his finger, looms over the field of battle...                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          But the power of the Ring could not be          undone.IMAGE:SAURON lays waste to the armies of the LAST ALLIANCE.With desperate courage, ELENDIL leads a charge...THE BLACKMACE OF SAURON LASHES OUT!! IMAGE: ELENDIL'S body falls likea crumpled rag doll... IMAGE:ISILDUR cradles the body of hisfather in his arms. The SHADOW OF SAURON falls over him...                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          It was in this moment..when all hope had          faded, thatIsildur, son of the king,          took up his father's sword.ISILDUR snatches up the BROKEN BLADE OF NARSIL..The BLADEsevers SAURON'S FINGERS... AND THE ONE RING FLIES fromhisbody.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          Sauron, the enemy of the Free Peoples of          Middle Earth, was defeated. SAURON'S          ARMOR clatters to the ground. HisbodyGONE....VAPORIZED! CLOSE ON: ISILDUR picks up the SEVEREDFINGER and removes the ONE RING...transfixed!                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          The Ring passed to Isildur...who hadthis          one chance to destroy evil forever.                                                    (CONTINUED)                                                                 4.CONTINUED:IMAGE: GLADDENFIELD...ISILDUR leads a small column of menthrough DARKENING WOODS...the ONE RING glinting on a CHAINaround his neck.                      GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)            But the hearts of Men areeasily            corrupted. And the Ring of Power has a            will of its own.SUDDENLY!    ARROWS FLY!   They are ambushed by ORCS...ISILDURSCREAMS!                                                     FADE TOBLACKFADE UP: ISILDUR MATERIALIZES UNDER WATER...as THE RING slipsslowly from his finger. Ripples of LIGHT play acrossISILDUR'S PALE FACE...he is DEAD.                      GALADRIEL (V.O.)(CONT'D)            It betrayed Isildur to his death.IMAGE: THE RING falls through the MURKY WATERS of the RIVERANDUIN.                      GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)            And some thingsthat should not have been            forgotten...were lost.                                                     FADE TO BLACK                      GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)            History became legend...legendbecame            myth.FADE UP: The waters of the ANDUIN RIVER lie dark andundisturbed.                      GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)            And for two and a half thousand years the            Ring passed outof all knowledge.IMAGE: SILT SWIRLS...A THIN WHITE HAND reachesdown...grasping the RING...                      GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)            Until, when chance came, it ensnared a            newbearer!IMAGE: THE THIN WHITE HAND opens to reveal one ring.                      GOLLUM (V.O.)            My Precious...                                                                5.IMAGE: MISTSHROUDED MOUNTAINS...                    GALADRIEL (V.O.)          The Ring came to the creature Gollum, who          took it deep into the tunnels of the          Misty Mountains.IMAGE: THE GLOOM of aMOUNTAIN CAVERN..a MURKY POOL ofWATER...in the DARKNESS the SHADOWY OUTLINE of an EMACIATEDFIGURE.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          And there, it consumed him. ARASPY VOICE          mutters in the half light...                    GOLLUM          It came to me. My own.     My love...              (ecstatic whisper)          My preciousness.                    GALADRIEL(V.O.)          The Ring brought to Gollum unnatural long          life. For five hundred years it poisoned          his mind. And in the gloom of Gollum's          cave...                                                     FADE TOBLACK                       GALADRIEL (V.O.)   (CONT'D)          It waited.FADE UP: Bathed in COLD MOONLIGHT, the WORLD lies DARK andSTILL...the unsettled quiet before thestorm...                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          Darkness crept back into the forests of          the world. Rumor grew of a Shadow in the          East...whispers of a nameless fear. And          the Ringof Power perceived...its time          had now come. It abandoned Gollum.SLOW MOTION: unseen by its KEEPER..THE RING falls to theMUDDY FLOOR of a MOUNTAIN TUNNEL...                    GALADRIEL (V.O.)(CONT'D)          But something happened then the Ring did          not intend...                                                     FADE TO BLACKIMAGE: FUMBLING in the dark, a SMALL HAND closes overthe                                                                 6.RING.                      GALADRIEL            It was picked up by the most unlikely            creatureimaginable...                      BILBO                (to himself)            What's this?A YOUNGISH LOOKING BILBO BAGGINS peers down at what lies inhis hand...PERPLEXED by what he hasfound.                      GALADRIEL (V.O.)            A Hobbit....Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.                      BILBO                (surprised)            A Ring.SUDDENLY!   A VOICE SCREAMS...ITS ANGUISHRINGING through theCOLD, DANK TUNNELS...                       GOLLUM (V.O.)            Lost!   Lost! My Precious is lost!!Frightened Bilbo quickly POCKETS the ONE RING and hurrieson.                                                      DISSOLVE TO:WIDE ON: THE CAMERA SOARS AWAY FROM THE MOUNTAINS.      MOVINGFASTER AND FASTER...THEIR DARK GREEN FORESTS ANDJAGGEDWHITE PEAKS RECEDING INTO THE SHROUD OF MIST                      GALADRIEL (V.O.)            For the time will soon come when Hobbits            will shape the fortunes ofall.                                                    FADE TO BLACK                                                          FADE IN:EXT. HOBBITON WOODS -- DAYANGLE ON: TWO HOBBIT FEETresting ona small rock...rising out of the LONG, OVERGROWNGRASSES SUPER: THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING SUPER: THESHIRE....60 YEARS LATER CAMERA TRACKS TO: a Figure liesbeneath the dappled sunlight ofan old tree.                                                      (CONTINUED)                                                              7.CONTINUED:White flowers are scattered among the Well seededgrasses.An idyllic setting at the end of a long hot summer... thefigure is reading a book. ON THE SOUNDTRACK: In the distance,growing louder..over the Gentle clip clop of an approachingcart and horse can be heard


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(c) 1990 The Walt Disney CompanyCompiled by Scott A. Concilla (skippy6400@delphi.com) July '95THE CHARACTERS:    Majorcharacters (voiced by...)         Bernard (Bob Newhart)         Miss Bianca (Eva Gabor)         Wilbur (John Candy)         Jake (Tristan Rogers)         Cody (Adam Ryen)         Percival McLeach (George C. Scott)    Minorcharacters         Joanna (Frank Welker)         Frank (Wayne Robson)         Krebbs (Douglas Seale)         Chairmouse (Bernard Fox)         Doctor (Bernard Fox)         Red (Peter Firth)         Baitmouse (BillyBarty)         Francois (Ed Gilbert)         Faloo (Carla Meyer)         Mother (Carla Meyer)         Nurse mouse (Russi Taylor)    Non-speaking         Polly; Kookie; Snake; Marahute; Dowager; Milktoast; CricketCook;         Telegraph mice; Nelson; Sparky; Twister; Razorback; Ranger.Release date:  November 16, 1990Running time:  74 minutes                          THE RESCUERS DOWN UNDER                            TheComplete Script(opening:     The camera slowly zooms through a variety of insects and rocks.              We follow a small yellow bug climb up a blade of grass.  As it              spreads its wings to fly, we are whiskedalong the Australian              outback and prairie by Ayers rock and eventually slow down as we              approach Cody's house.)(scene:  inside Cody's room.  The camera pans around to show Cody sleeping         inhis hammock.  The sound of Faloo's call is heard.  Cody hears         it, jumps out of bed, and runs to the window.  He puts on his         shirt and grabs his knife.)(scene:  Cody sneaks past his mother who is in thekitchen listening to the         radio.)Announcer:    ... thundershowers are expected in the Crocodile Falls area and              some of the surrounding gullies so take out your...(scene:  Outside Cody's house.  Cody leavesthe house, and closes the door         behind him, but not quietly.)Mom:     (from inside upon hearing the door) Cody!Cody:    (whincing) Yeah mom?Mom:     What about your breakfast?Cody:    I've got somesandwiches in my pack.Mom:     Well be home for supper.Cody:    (hopping the gate) No worries mom.(scene:  Cody runs toward the forest; Faloo's call is heard in the         background.  He runs past some rockformations and enters the         woods.  Birds follow him; and squak at him.)Cody:    (to the birds) I know, I'm coming.    (Cody jumps over a hollow log)          Hustle up Nelson, Faloo's sounding the call!    (Codyslides through a log, picks up a stick, and beats on the roof of    the wombats home.)          C'mon little wombats, hurry!    (Cody continues to run through the forest with all of the animals    following him.)    (Codyarrives at the tree where Faloo has been sounding the call.)         (to Faloo) Who's caught this time?Faloo:   You don't know her, Cody, her name is Marahute, the great golden         eagle.Cody:    Where isshe?Faloo:   She's caught, high on a cliff in a poacher's trap.  You're the         only one who can reach her.Cody:    I'll get her loose.Faloo:   Right-oh, hop on, no time to lose.    (Cody hops onto Faloo and they travelthrough the forest and along a    stream/river; more scenes of animals and the forest.)    (They arrive at the cliff.)         (pointing up towards the cliff) She's up on top of that ridge.  Be         careful lit'lfriend.(scene:  various "time lapse" views of Cody climbing up the cliff.)    (Cody reaches the top and sees the eagle.)Cody:    Marahute!    (Cody looks at the eagle; he approaches her slowly; she hears himand    wakes up; Marahute screeches and struggles to get free.)         (reassuring) Calm down, calm down.  I'm not gonna hurt you.  (Cody         strokes Marahute on the head) That's a girl.         Stay still... it'so.k.    (Cody gets out his knife; Marahute sees the glint of the knife and    begins to struggle and scream)         No wait!  I'm here to help you... easy!... easy!    (Cody cuts two ropes.  Cody cuts the last rope to freeMarahute.)         You're free!!    (As Marahute spreads her wings to fly, she knocks Cody off the cliff.)         Aaaiigh!    (Cody falls; Marahute dives down to catch him; she catches him just    before he hits the ground;they begin to fly around; the animals see    Cody on Marahute and stand in awe; Marahute files over several rock    formations; the fly up above the clouds; Cody looks at his reflection in    Marahute'seye.)         Higher!    (They fly even higher above the clouds; Marahute throws Cody and catches    him; Cody is now held in Marahute's talons.)         Woah!    (Cody mocks an eagle screech; he laughs as Marahutetickles him; they    cruise above the clouds which eventually open up to show the ground;    Marahute nose dives towards the ground and a stream; she holds Cody just    high enough above the water so that he iswater skiing; they approach a    flock of birds; Marahute lets Cody go and he skims through the birds,    scattering them; Marahute grabs Cody just before he falls in and then    put Cody right in front of her, on herbeak (pushing him from behind);    they go over the egde of a waterfall; Marahute catches Cody again; this    time he rides by standing on her back; they arrive at Marahute's nest)         Wow!    (Cody and Marahutelook at each other; Cody falls over as he attempts to    look at Marahute upside down. Marahute moves some grass and feathers to    show Cody her eggs)         You're a mom!    (Cody puts his ear to theeggs)         They're very warm.  Are they gonna hatch soon?    (Marahute ruffles her neck feathers in an affectionate manner; she sits    on the eggs and then looks out "over her domain".)         Where's the daddyeagle?  (Marahute drops her head) Oh... my dad's         gone too.    (Cody give Marahute an affectionate stroke;  as they fix the covering on    the eggs, the wind picks up and blows a feather in Cody's face; helooks    at it, plays with it, and puts it back.  Marahute picks it up and gives    it to Cody and he gives her a hug.)    (Marahute and Cody are now on the ground; Marahute takes off and Cody    runs around making flyingnoises)(scene:  just inside the forest.  A wanted poster of McLeach is posted on a         tree; A mouse is tied up with a bell attached to it that rings as         it struggles; Cody hears the bell and goes over to themouse.)Cody:    Heh heh... hey little fella, what happened to you?Baitmouse:    (panicking) Oh no! No, no, no, no!!  Get away, get away! It's a              trap, it's a trap.  Be careful, NO!Cody:    (as the mouse isspeaking) Don't worry, I'll get you loose.  Woah!         (Cody falls into the trap.  He looks up to see a blinking light         and the alarm.)(scene:  McLeach's truck; the radar has a blip on the screen.)McLeach:(laughs)  Got one!!(scene:  back in the hole/trap where Cody has fallen.)Baitmouse:    (from the top of the hole) Are you alright?Cody:    (rubbing his head) Yeah, I think so.Baitmouse:    Okey-dokey. (he runsoff)Cody:    Wait!  Hey!  Come back!    (Cody tries to climb out; he gets halfway up, grabs a tree root; it    breaks and he falls; the baitmouse begins to lower a vine down to help    Cody)Baitmouse:    Here you go, grabon.Cody:    That's great, just a little more, a little further... there!  I         got it.    (a rumble is heard and the ground begins to shake.)Baitmouse:    Uh-oh.    (view of McLeach's vehicle trampling through the forestdisturbing    everything)Baitmouse:    Yipe!    (The vine is severed as McLeach's truck comes to a screeching halt; Cody    falls; the truck opens; Joanna leans over pit and growls; Cody yells)McLeach: (unseen,approaching the trap) Well Joanna, what'd we get today?         A dingo, a fat ol' razorback, or a nice big.... (he sees Cody)         boy?!?    (McLeach thinks for a second, gives a dirty look to Joanna andkicks    her.)         Joanna, you been diggin' holes out here again??  (mumbling to         himself) Dumb lizard always tryin' to bury squirrels out here.Cody:    Unh-unh.  It's a trap, and poachin's against thelaw.McLeach: Trap?!  Where'd you get an idea like that??  Boy I think you've         been down in that hole for too long.  (he holds his gun out so         that Cody can grab it) Well c'mon, grab ahold.  We'll get youout         of this little ol' lizard hole and you can just run along home.    (Joanna has spotted the baitmouse on Cody's backpack.  She hisses and    makes a face.)Cody:    This IS a poacher's trap and YOU'RE apoacher.    (The mouse ducks back into the backpack; Joanna jumps on Cody, knocking    McLeach into the hole; his gun goes off; Joanna begins to attach Cody's    backpack.)         (to Joanna) Let go!!  Hey get off ofme!!McLeach: I'm gonna kill her.  (climbing out of the hole) I'm gonna kill         that dumb, slimey, egg-sucking salamander.Cody:    Cut it out!  Get off of me!    (Joanna continues to attack the backpack; McLeachpicks up his gun; he    points it at Joanna; looking through gun scope McLeach aims at Joanna,    she tries to get out of his view; as she does this, McLeach spots the    feather in Cody's pack; he picks up Cody by hisbackpack.)McLeach: Hmmm.... good girl Joanna.  (Joanna looks up and grins happily.)         (to Cody) Say where'd you get this pretty feather boy?Cody:    (humbly) It was a present.McLeach: (coddling) Oh, that's realnice.  Who gave it to ya?Cody:    (stumbling) It's a s... secret.McLeach: That's no secret boy, you see, (menacing) I already got the         father.  (makes a cutting sound and draws a feather across his         neck like hewas slashing a throat).  He, he he.  You just tell me         where momma and those little eggs are.    (Cody breaks free from McLeach by slipping out of his backpack.)Cody:    NO!!McLeach: Joanna, sick 'em!    (Codyruns through forest with Joanna close behind; he enters an open    area where we see a waterfall and water; Cody stops right at the edge of    the small cliff that drops into the water (Crocodile Falls); Joanna    followsclose behind; Cody reaches into his pocket and pulls out his    knife; he drops it; McLeach steps on his hand.)McLeach: You're comin' with me boy.Cody:    My mom'll call the rangers!McLeach: (sarcastically)  Oh no....not the rangers, what'll I do??         What'll I do??!  Don't let your mom call the rangers!!  Please         don't!!  (Joanna laughs) (McLeach laughs)  (McLeach throws Cody's         backpack into the river)  My poor babyboy got eaten by the         crocodiles, boo-hoo-hoo!  Let's go boy!Cody:    (from inside McLeach's cage)  Help!  Help!    (The baitmouse sees Cody in the cage; he runs to the local RAS telegraph    office; it begins to rainand wind is blowing; he bursts through the    door as the telegraph mouse is eating.)Baitmouse:  (very fast and excited) Help, help, help!!  Someone help!  McLeach            took the boy.  He took the little boy.  Sendfor help!!    (The telegraph mouse begins typing the message in morse code; camera    pans up to roof, where other mice aim the antenna; message is seen being    relayed to the Marshall Islands)    (In a wreckedplane on the Marshall Islands, a mouse listens to the    morse code message; he recognizes the distress call, activates the    controls on the plane, and relays message to Hawaii.)    (Message is seen being relayed toHawaii.  Screens fill with RAS RAS    RAS.  Mice are watching through binoculars in the back.  The send a    signal to other mice.  They dial the phone to distract guard.  Phone    rings.  Guard leaves.  Mice take over,


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Overruled, by George Bernard ShawThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use itunder the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.netTitle: OverruledAuthor: George Bernard ShawPosting Date: May 28, 2009 [EBook #3830]Release Date: March,2003First Posted: September 30, 2001Last Updated: March 5, 2006Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVERRULED ***Produced by Eve Sobol.  HTML version by AlHaines.TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: In the printed version of this text, allapostrophes for contractions such as "can't", "wouldn't" and "he'd"were omitted, to read as "cant", "wouldnt" and "hed". This etextrestores theomitted apostrophes.OVERRULEDBERNARD SHAW1912PREFACE TO OVERRULED.THE ALLEVIATIONS OF MONOGAMY.This piece is not an argument for or against polygamy. It is a clinicalstudy of how the thing actuallyoccurs among quite ordinary people,innocent of all unconventional views concerning it. The enormousmajority of cases in real life are those of people in that position.Those who deliberately and conscientiously professwhat are oddlycalled advanced views by those others who believe them to beretrograde, are often, and indeed mostly, the last people in the worldto engage in unconventional adventures of any kind, not onlybecausethey have neither time nor disposition for them, but because thefriction set up between the individual and the community by theexpression of unusual views of any sort is quite enough hindrance tothe hereticwithout being complicated by personal scandals. Thus thetheoretic libertine is usually a person of blameless family life,whilst the practical libertine is mercilessly severe on all otherlibertines, and excessivelyconventional in professions of socialprinciple.What is more, these professions are not hypocritical: they are for themost part quite sincere. The common libertine, like the drunkard,succumbs to a temptation which hedoes not defend, and against which hewarns others with an earnestness proportionate to the intensity of hisown remorse. He (or she) may be a liar and a humbug, pretending to bebetter than the detected libertines,and clamoring for their condignpunishment; but this is mere self-defence. No reasonable person expectsthe burglar to confess his pursuits, or to refrain from joining in thecry of Stop Thief when the police get on thetrack of another burglar.If society chooses to penalize candor, it has itself to thank if itsattack is countered by falsehood. The clamorous virtue of the libertineis therefore no more hypocritical than the plea of Not Guiltywhich isallowed to every criminal. But one result is that the theorists whowrite most sincerely and favorably about polygamy know least about it;and the practitioners who know most about it keep their knowledgeveryjealously to themselves. Which is hardly fair to the practice.INACCESSIBILITY OF THE FACTS.Also it is impossible to estimate its prevalence. A practice to whichnobody confesses may be both universal andunsuspected, just as avirtue which everybody is expected, under heavy penalties, to claim,may have no existence. It is often assumed--indeed it is the officialassumption of the Churches and the divorce courts that agentleman anda lady cannot be alone together innocently. And that is manifestblazing nonsense, though many women have been stoned to death in theeast, and divorced in the west, on the strength of it. On theotherhand, the innocent and conventional people who regard the gallantadventures as crimes of so horrible a nature that only the mostdepraved and desperate characters engage in them or would listen toadvances inthat direction without raising an alarm with the noisiestindignation, are clearly examples of the fact that most sections ofsociety do not know how the other sections live. Industry is the mosteffective check on gallantry.Women may, as Napoleon said, be theoccupation of the idle man just as men are the preoccupation of theidle woman; but the mass of mankind is too busy and too poor for thelong and expensive sieges which theprofessed libertine lays to virtue.Still, wherever there is idleness or even a reasonable supply ofelegant leisure there is a good deal of coquetry and philandering. Itis so much pleasanter to dance on the edge of aprecipice than to goover it that leisured society is full of people who spend a great partof their lives in flirtation, and conceal nothing but the humiliatingsecret that they have never gone any further. For there is nopleasingpeople in the matter of reputation in this department: every insult isa flattery; every testimonial is a disparagement: Joseph is despisedand promoted, Potiphar's wife admired and condemned: in short, youarenever on solid ground until you get away from the subject altogether.There is a continual and irreconcilable conflict between the naturaland conventional sides of the case, between spontaneous humanrelationsbetween independent men and women on the one hand and the propertyrelation between husband and wife on the other, not to mention theconfusion under the common name of love of a generousnaturalattraction and interest with the murderous jealousy that fastens on andclings to its mate (especially a hated mate) as a tiger fastens on acarcase. And the confusion is natural; for these extremes are extremesofthe same passion; and most cases lie somewhere on the scale betweenthem, and are so complicated by ordinary likes and dislikes, byincidental wounds to vanity or gratifications of it, and by classfeeling, that A will bejealous of B and not of C, and will tolerateinfidelities on the part of D whilst being furiously angry when theyare committed by E.THE CONVENTION OF JEALOUSYThat jealousy is independent of sex is shown by itsintensity inchildren, and by the fact that very jealous people are jealous ofeverybody without regard to relationship or sex, and cannot bear tohear the person they "love" speak favorably of anyone underanycircumstances (many women, for instance, are much more jealous of theirhusbands' mothers and sisters than of unrelated women whom they suspecthim of fancying); but it is seldom possible to disentangle thetwopassions in practice. Besides, jealousy is an inculcated passion,forced by society on people in whom it would not occur spontaneously.In Brieux's Bourgeois aux Champs, the benevolent hero finds himselfdetested bythe neighboring peasants and farmers, not because hepreserves game, and sets mantraps for poachers, and defends his legalrights over his land to the extremest point of unsocial savagery, butbecause, being anamiable and public-spirited person, he refuses to doall this, and thereby offends and disparages the sense of property inhis neighbors. The same thing is true of matrimonial jealousy; the manwho does not at leastpretend to feel it and behave as badly as if hereally felt it is despised and insulted; and many a man has shot orstabbed a friend or been shot or stabbed by him in a duel, or disgracedhimself and ruined his own wife in adivorce scandal, against hisconscience, against his instinct, and to the destruction of his home,solely because Society conspired to drive him to keep its own lowermorality in countenance in this miserable andundignified manner.Morality is confused in such matters. In an elegant plutocracy, ajealous husband is regarded as a boor. Among the tradesmen who supplythat plutocracy with its meals, a husband who is not jealous,andrefrains from assailing his rival with his fists, is regarded as aridiculous, contemptible and cowardly cuckold. And the laboring classis divided into the respectable section which takes the tradesman'sview, and thedisreputable section which enjoys the license of theplutocracy without its money: creeping below the law as its exemplarsprance above it; cutting down all expenses of respectability and evendecency; and franklyaccepting squalor and disrepute as the price ofanarchic self-indulgence. The conflict between Malvolio and Sir Toby,between the marquis and the bourgeois, the cavalier and the puritan,the ascetic and the voluptuary,goes on continually, and goes on notonly between class and class and individual and individual, but in theselfsame breast in a series of reactions and revulsions in which theirresistible becomes the unbearable, and theunbearable theirresistible, until none of us can say what our characters really arein this respect.THE MISSING DATA OF A SCIENTIFIC NATURAL HISTORY OF MARRIAGE.Of one thing I am persuaded: we shall neverattain to a reasonablehealthy public opinion on sex questions until we offer, as the data forthat opinion, our actual conduct and our real thoughts instead of amoral fiction which we agree to call virtuous conduct, andwhich wethen--and here comes in the mischief--pretend is our conduct and ourthoughts. If the result were that we all believed one another to bebetter than we really are, there would be something to be said for it;butthe actual result appears to be a monstrous exaggeration of thepower and continuity of sexual passion. The whole world shares the fateof Lucrezia Borgia, who, though she seems on investigation to have beenquite asuitable wife for a modern British Bishop, has been invested bythe popular historical imagination with all the extravagances of aMessalina or a Cenci. Writers of belles lettres who are rash enough toadmit that theirwhole life is not one constant preoccupation withadored members of the opposite sex, and who even countenance LaRochefoucauld's remark that very few people would ever imaginethemselves in love if they had neverread anything about it, aregravely declared to be abnormal or physically defective by critics ofcrushing unadventurousness and domestication. French authors of saintlytemperament are forced to include in their retinuecountesses of ardentcomplexion with whom they are supposed to live in sin. Sentimentalcontroversies on the subject are endless; but they are useless, becausenobody tells the truth. Rousseau did it by an extraordinaryeffort,aided by a superhuman faculty for human natural history, but the resultwas curiously disconcerting because, though the facts were soconventionally shocking that people felt that they ought to matter agreat deal,they actually mattered very little. And even at thateverybody pretends not to believe him.ARTIFICIAL RETRIBUTION.The worst of that is that busybodies with perhaps rather more than anormal taste for mischief arecontinually trying to make negligiblethings matter as much in fact as they do in convention by deliberatelyinflicting injuries--sometimes atrocious injuries--on the partiesconcerned. Few people have any knowledge ofthe savage punishments thatare legally inflicted for aberrations and absurdities to which nosanely instructed community would call any attention. We create anartificial morality, and consequently an artificial conscience,bymanufacturing disastrous consequences for events which, left tothemselves, would do very little harm (sometimes not any) and beforgotten in a few days.But the artificial morality is not therefore to be condemnedoffhand.In many cases it may save mischief instead of making it: for example,though the hanging of a murderer is the duplication of a murder, yet itmay be less murderous than leaving the matter to be settled bybloodfeud or vendetta. As long as human nature insists on revenge, theofficial organization and satisfaction of revenge by the State may bealso its minimization. The mischief begins when the official revengepersistsafter the passion it satisfies has died out of the race.Stoning a woman to death in the east because she has ventured to marryagain after being deserted by her husband may be more merciful thanallowing her to bemobbed to death; but the official stoning or burningof an adulteress in the west would be an atrocity because few of ushate an adulteress to the extent of desiring such a penalty, or ofbeing prepared to take the law intoour own hands if it were withheld.Now what applies to this extreme case applies also in due degree to theother cases. Offences in which sex is concerned are often needlesslymagnified by penalties, ranging from variousforms of social ostracismto long sentences of penal servitude, which would be seen to bemonstrously disproportionate to the real feeling against them if theremoval of both the penalties and the taboo on their discussionmade itpossible for us to ascertain their real prevalence and estimation.Fortunately there is one outlet for the truth. We are permitted todiscuss in jest what we may not discuss in earnest. A serious comedyabout sex istaboo: a farcical comedy is privileged.THE FAVORITE SUBJECT OF FARCICAL COMEDY.The little piece which follows this preface accordingly takes the formof a farcical comedy, because it is a contribution to theveryextensive dramatic literature which takes as its special department thegallantries of married people. The stage has been preoccupied by suchaffairs for centuries, not only in the jesting vein of RestorationComedyand Palais Royal farce, but in the more tragically turnedadulteries of the Parisian school which dominated the stage until Ibsenput them out of countenance and relegated them to their proper place asarticles ofcommerce. Their continued vogue in that departmentmaintains the tradition that adultery is the dramatic subject parexcellence, and indeed that a play that is not about adultery is not aplay at all. I was considered aheresiarch of the most extravagant kindwhen I expressed my opinion at the outset of my career as a playwright,that adultery is the dullest of themes on the stage, and that fromFrancesca and Paolo down to the latestguilty couple of the school ofDumas fils, the romantic adulterers have all been intolerable bores.THE PSEUDO SEX PLAY.Later on, I had occasion to point out to the defenders of sex as theproper theme of drama, thatthough they were right in ranking sex as anintensely interesting subject, they were wrong in assuming that sex isan indispensable motive in popular plays. The plays of Moliere are,like the novels of the Victorian epochor Don Quixote, as nearlysexless as anything not absolutely inhuman can be; and some ofShakespear's plays are sexually on a par with the census: they containwomen as well as men, and that is all. This had to beadmitted; but itwas still assumed that the plays of the XIX century Parisian schoolare, in contrast with the sexless masterpieces, saturated with sex; andthis I strenuously denied. A play about the convention that amanshould fight a duel or come to fisticuffs with his wife's lover if shehas one, or the convention that he should strangle her like Othello, orturn her out of the house and never see her or allow her to see herchildrenagain, or the convention that she should never be spoken toagain by any decent person and should finally drown herself, or theconvention that persons involved in scenes of recrimination orconfession by theseconventions should call each other certain abusivenames and describe their conduct as guilty and frail and so on: allthese may provide material for very effective plays; but such plays arenot dramatic studies of sex:one might as well say that Romeo andJuliet is a dramatic study of pharmacy because the catastrophe isbrought about through an apothecary. Duels are not sex; divorce casesare not sex; the Trade Unionism of marriedwomen is not sex. Only themost insignificant fraction of the gallantries of married peopleproduce any of the conventional results; and plays occupied wholly withthe conventional results are therefore utterly unsatisfyingas sexplays, however interesting they may be as plays of intrigue and plotpuzzles.The world is finding this out rapidly. The Sunday papers, which in thedays when they appealed almost exclusively to the lower middleclasswere crammed with police intelligence, and more especially with divorceand murder cases, now lay no stress on them; and police papers whichconfined themselves entirely to such matters, and were onceeagerlyread, have perished through the essential dulness of their topics. Andyet the interest in sex is stronger than ever: in fact, the literaturethat has driven out the journalism of the divorce courts is aliteratureoccupied with sex to an extent and with an intimacy andfrankness that would have seemed utterly impossible to Thackeray orDickens if they had been told that the change would complete itselfwithin fifty years of theirown time.ART AND MORALITY.It is ridiculous to say, as inconsiderate amateurs of the arts do, thatart has nothing to do with morality. What is true is that the artist'sbusiness is not that of the policeman; and that suchfactitiousconsequences and put-up jobs as divorces and executions and thedetective operations that lead up to them are no essential part oflife, though, like poisons and buttered slides and red-hot pokers, theyprovidematerial for plenty of thrilling or amusing stories suited topeople who are incapable of any interest in psychology. But the fineartists must keep the policeman out of his studies of sex and studiesof crime. It is by clingingnervously to the policeman that most of thepseudo sex plays convince me that the writers have either never had anyserious personal experience of their ostensible subject, or else havenever conceived it possible thatthe stage door present the phenomenaof sex as they appear in nature.THE LIMITS OF STAGE PRESENTATION.But the stage presents much more shocking phenomena than those of sex.There is, of course, a sense inwhich you cannot present sex on thestage, just as you cannot present murder. Macbeth must no more reallykill Duncan than he must himself be really slain by Macduff. But thefeelings of a murderer can be expressed ina certain artisticconvention; and a carefully prearranged sword exercise can be gonethrough with sufficient pretence of earnestness to be accepted by thewilling imaginations of the younger spectators as a desperatecombat.The tragedy of love has been presented on the stage in the same way. InTristan and Isolde, the curtain does not, as in Romeo and Juliet, risewith the lark: the whole night of love is played before thespectators.The lovers do not discuss marriage in an elegantly sentimental way:they utter the visions and feelings that come to lovers at the suprememoments of their love, totally forgetting that there are such thingsinthe world as husbands and lawyers and duelling codes and theories ofsin and notions of propriety and all the other irrelevancies whichprovide hackneyed and bloodless material for our so-called playsofpassion.PRUDERIES OF THE FRENCH STAGE.To all stage presentations there are limits. If Macduff were to stabMacbeth, the spectacle would be intolerable; and even the pretencewhich we allow on our stage isridiculously destructive to the illusionof the scene. Yet pugilists and gladiators will actually fight and killin public without sham, even as a spectacle for money. But no sobercouple of lovers of any delicacy could endure tobe watched. We inEngland, accustomed to consider the French stage much more licentiousthan the British, are always surprised and puzzled when we learn, as wemay do any day if we come within reach of suchinformation, that Frenchactors are often scandalized by what they consider the indecency of theEnglish stage, and that French actresses who desire a greater licensein appealing to the sexual instincts than the Frenchstage allows them,learn and establish themselves on the English stage. The German andRussian stages are in the same relation to the French and perhaps moreor less all the Latin stages. The reason is that, partly froma want ofrespect for the theatre, partly from a sort of respect for art ingeneral which moves them to accord moral privileges to artists, partlyfrom the very objectionable tradition that the realm of art is Alsatiaand thecontemplation of works of art a holiday from the burden ofvirtue, partly because French prudery does not attach itself to thesame points of behavior as British prudery, and has a different code ofthe mentionable andthe unmentionable, and for many other reasons theFrench tolerate plays which are never performed in England until theyhave been spoiled by a process of bowdlerization; yet French taste ismore fastidious than ours asto the exhibition and treatment on thestage of the physical incidents of sex. On the French stage a kiss isas obvious a convention as the thrust under the arm by which Macduffruns Macbeth through. It is even apurposely unconvincing convention:the actors rather insisting that it shall be impossible for anyspectator to mistake a stage kiss for a real one. In England, on thecontrary, realism is carried to the point at which nobodyexcept thetwo performers can perceive that the caress is not genuine. And herethe English stage is certainly in the right; for whatever questionthere arises as to what incidents are proper for representation on thestage


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                            The Black Dahlia                               Written by                             Josh Friedman                         Based on the novelby                             James Ellroy     CREDITS ROLL OVER     Black and white newsreel footage from the 1930s. Clips from     prize fights featuring two different boxers against various     opponents. One alight heavyweight--pure finesse, a     counterpunches; the other, stouter and stronger, a     headhunting puncher.     The intercutting of the two fighters suggests a possible     showdown at the end of the newsreel. Nosuch luck.     END CREDITS     CLOSE UP ON:     A TRIPLE CARBON LAPD "INCIDENT REPORT" FORM trapped in an old     Corona typewriter. The keys pound letters into theblank     spaces.     INCIDENT: THE ZOOT SUIT RIOTS...JUNE 10, 1943...     REPORTING OFFICER...DWIGHT "BUCKY" BLEICHERT     EXT. BOYLE HEIGHTS - EVERGREEN AND WABASH -DUSK     A WORLD WAR II ERA PERSONNEL CARRIER transports twenty silent     LAPD officers into the heart of downtown Los Angeles. The     sounds of glass breaking and men screaming serves asbackdrop     for their arrival.     We focus in on BUCKY BLEICHERT, 26, (The counterpuncher from     the newsreels) as he jumps from the carrier.     Bucky's minus his gun but plus a WWI tin helmet and athree     pound truncheon.     BUCKY'S POV:     Hundreds of in-uniform GI's use baseball bats and two-by-     fours to beat the shit out of Zoot Suit-wearing Mexicans.     Most of the cops wander to the edge ofthe race riot and     hobnob with the pockets of MPs and Shore Patrol who've chosen     to "restore order" by cheering on their countrymen against     the outnumbered but equally fierce zooters.     Sailors shatterstreetlights and shop windows. Darkness falls     quickly on what Bucky rightly realizes is chaos.     Suddenly Bucky's RUNNING--     away from the action...     down a side street and onto a     QUIET RESIDENTIALBLOCK.     He slows to a jog, trying to gather his thoughts. And then a     voice:                          VOICE               Bleichert! Bleichert!     EXT. A BUNGALOW COURTYARD - SAME     A POLICEOFFICER has THREE MARINES IN DRESS BLUES and ONE     ZOOT SUITER cornered in a center walkway.     The marines swipe clumsily at the officer with their two-by-     fours as he bobs back and forth on the balls ofhis feet,     dodging the blows like the ex-fighter he is.                          VOICE OVER               I already knew him by reputation, had our               respective records down pat: Lee               Blanchard,43-4-2 as a heavyweight,               formerly a regular attraction at the               Hollywood Legion Stadium.     The terrified Mexican stands frozen on one side of Blanchard,     trying to avoid the entire mess as thepoliceman parries the     marines' blows with his own truncheon.                          LEE BLANCHARD               Code three, Bleichert!     Bucky runs into the courtyard and immediately wades in,     fending offthe marines' blows to jab at them with his stick.                          VOICE OVER               And he knew me, Bucky Bleichert, light-               heavy, 36-0-0, ranked tenth by Ring               magazine in 1937fighting no-name               opponents in no-man's-land division.     On instinct, Bucky drops his baton and begins wailing on the     marines with his fists, connecting hard punches withsoft     midsections.                          VOICE OVER (cont'd)               In our first year at Central we'd never               spoke--but people spoke of us. Opinions               about a fantasyBleichert-Blanchard               fight, and who would win.     And now Blanchard moves in, lashing vicious truncheon blows     to the shoulders of the marines, sending them one by one into     aheap.                          VOICE OVER (cont'd)               I'd heard almost all of 'em: Blanchard by               early KO; Bleichert by decision;               Blanchard stopped on cuts--everything but               Bleichert byknockout.     The marines reduced to rubble, Lee Blanchard turns his     attention to the Zooter: he slaps handcuffs on him and leads     him away. He motions for Bucky to follow.     Lee turns back to themarines:                          LEE               To the halls of Tripoli, shitbirds.     One of them flips Lee off. The Zooter kicks him in the chest     as Lee pulls him away from them, laughing.     The three men startback toward the riots. Gunshots can be     heard. Palm trees blaze up into the night.                          LEE (cont'd)                   (re the Zooter)               Bucky Bleichert, meet Senor Tomas Dos               Santos,subject of an all-points fugitive               warrant for manslaughter committed during               the commission of a Class B Felony.               Snatched a purse off a hairbag and she               keeled of a heartattack.                          BUCKY               You come all the way down here to roust--                          LEE                   (smiling)               I came all the way down here same asyou               did.                   (jerks a finger to the riots)               Keep from gettin' killed. Happened to see               those jarheads beatin' on a good collar--                   (nudging Dos Santos)               HablaIngles, Tomas?     The man shakes his head "no".                          LEE (cont'd)               He's dead meat. Manslaughter Two's a gas               chamber jolt for spics. Hepcat here's               about six weeks away fromthe Big Adios.               Been better off getting a couple cracked               ribs from our Privates First Class back               there.     Blanchard spies a home with newspapers stacked on thefront     porch.                          LEE (cont'd)               We'll never get him booked tonight.                                                            CUT TO:     LEE JIMMYING THE FRONT DOOR...     INT. THEKITCHEN - LATER     Tomas Dos Santos cuffed by his ankles to a radiator. The     three men are on their second fifth of Cutty Sark swiped from     the kitchen cupboard.     Dos Santos sings a drunken Spanishversion of "The     Chattanooga Choo Choo" before slumping to his side and     passing out.     Bucky covers him with a blanket.                          LEE               Tom here's my ninth hard felon ofthe               month. Six weeks he'll be sucking gas. In               three years I'll be working Central               Warrants. Jewboy Deputy D.A. over there               wets his pants for fighters. Promised me               thenext spot he can wangle.                          BUCKY                   (not impressed)               Impressive.                          LEE                   (not impressed either)               Wanna hear something moreimpressive? My               first twenty fights were stumblebums               handpicked by my manager. My girlfriend               saw you fight a couple times over at the               Olympic. Says maybe you could takeme.     Lee gets up and wanders into the living room. From the     kitchen Bucky watches Lee stare out at the flames.                          BUCKY               Whatta we do about theMex?                          LEE               We'll take 'em in the morning.                          BUCKY               You'll take him.                          LEE               He's half yours,partner.                          BUCKY               He's all yours. And I'm not your partner.                          LEE                   (withoutturning)               Someday.                                                       DISSOLVE TO:     A CLOSE UP OF TOMAS DOS SANTOS' FACE     screaming in silence.     AS WE PULL BACK TOREVEAL     Tomas Dos Santos dying in a large Plexiglas GAS CHAMBER.     Bucky stands in the back of the room, forcing himself to     watch. He can't stand it and leaves.     IN THE FRONT ROW     Leealso watches, elbows on knees and chin in hands. He can't     stand it, either. He stays.     IN THE HALLWAY AFTERWARDS     Bucky watches from afar as men in suits shake Lee's hand and     brush imaginarylint off of his BRAND NEW SERGEANT'S STRIPES.     Their eyes meet briefly as Bucky retreats to daylight.     Another TRIPLE CARBON FORM FILLED OUT ON THE CORONA...     Transfer and Promotion...Sergeant LeeBlanchard...     Highland Park Vice to Central Warrants...Effective     10/14/46     EXT. 2ND AND BEAUDRY - DAY     An extremely bored Bucky Bleichert gives a man a speeding     ticket and sendshim on his way.     EXT./INT. RADIO PATROL CAR - MOVING     Bucky drives as a ROOKIE COP chatters in the seat next to     him.                          ROOKIE               Yep, three years in the CanalZone.               Nothin' but skeeter bites and drunk               fights over three-dollar skank tail...     INT. THE CENTRAL MUSTER ROOM - DAY     Bucky sits at his desk filling out a form as the rookiecop     prattles on in the background.                          ROOKIE               ...fights over three-dollar skank tail...     AN OLDER OFFICER     walks by the rookie and rolls his eyes. CatchingBucky's     look, the cop throws him a shadow punching one-two. Bucky     smiles thinly. Returns to his paperwork. Then another cop     passes by and breaks into a bob-and-weave. Bucky looks     puzzled andannoyed.     He grabs a third cop walking by (TOM JOSLIN).                          BUCKY               Somethin' up, Tommy?                          TOM               You, that's what.                   (off Bucky'slook)               You know Lee Blanchard over at Central               Warrants?     Bucky nods.                          TOM               His partner's toppin' his twenty and               goin' for early retirement. Word isthe               felony D.A.'s lookin' for a bright boy to               fill the spot. Christ knows why but it's               down to you and Johnny Vogel for the               spot.     Bucky takes a surreptitious peek across the roomat JOHNNY     VOGEL, fat, slick-hair and bad skin.                          BUCKY               His old man Fritzie's a Central Dick.                          TOM                   (chucking Bucky on thechin)               But who'd look better when they bring back               the boxing team, eh Buckaroo?     Bucky shakes his head, dismissing the whole thing.     INT. THE RADIO PATROL CAR - ANOTHERDAY     Bucky drives on as the rookie talks and talks...                          VOICE OVER               Warrants was local celebrity as a cop.               Warrants was plainclothes without a coat               and tie,romance and a mileage per diem               on your civilian car. Warrants was going               after the real bad guys and not rousting               winos and wienie waggers in front of the               MidnightMission.     INT. BUCKY'S GARAGE - NIGHT     Bucky hits a speed-bag, building up a sweat.                          VOICE OVER               I told myself I didn't care.     He hits the bag faster andfaster.     INT. THE CENTRAL MUSTER ROOM - DAY     A desk officer hands Bucky a note.                                                            CUT TO:     INT. CITY HALL - CHIEF OF DETECTIVES OFFICE -


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                                   GINGER SNAPS                                   Written by                                  KarenWalton                                                     July 15th, 1996          FADE IN          EXT. FITZGERALD HOME -- NIGHT          The house is dark. The moon is almost full. A dog barks.          Amelancholy voice, worn for its age, narrates:          BRIGITTE (V/o)          Ever try bein' different? An, I          don't mean jus' thinkin' about          it, either. Ginger an' me - I          mean I...          The house numbersread 669. The 9 slips: the number now          reads 666.          BRIGITTE (CON'T/V/O)          Ginger an' I? Went for different.          Big time.          There's a light on in a basement window. We creep up toit,          crushing the tulip. borders on the way. The window is propped          open with a sneaker: it looks like somebody's foot is caught          in it. Music plays inside-          INT. GIRLS' BASEMENT BEDROOM -NIGHT          Gyrating in her underwear to bad-girl grunge, BRIGITTE          FITZGERALD (15) straddles GINGER FITZGERALD (also 15 and in          underwear) on one of the twin single beds. Both girlshave          cigarettes lolling on their lower lips. Both girls have          pierced eyebrows, pierced noses and streaked hair. Brigitte          has blue nail polish on. Ginger hasbreasts.          GINGER          Brigitte. Quit dickin' around.          Jus' do it.          Brigitte reluctantly stops her thrashing and douses a cotton          ball in rubbing alcohol.          Without looking up from herTANK GIRL comic, Ginger hauls her          own shirt up to expose her navel.          Brigitte swabs Ginger's navel with the wet cotton ball. Her          eyes drift to Ginger's chest, then back to what she'sdoing.                                                   2          BRIGITTE (V/O)          Ginger's ten months older than          me. we're seriously tight.Share          everything. Everything.          Around them, many candles burn. There's a dead bolt on the          door. An attached full bath. The floors are thick with          paranormal books. The walls are covered inimages of UFO's          and horror flicks. A framed photo of Kurt Cobain with          Courtney Love has a place of honor. There's an old Polaroid          of the girls at five in Halloween costumes; Lill Red Riding          Hoodand the Big Bad Wolf. Ginger is the wolf.          Brigitte produces an enormous darning needle. It glints. she          levels it at Ginger's navel, her hand shaking.          BR IGITTE          Ready?          GINGER          (without looking up)          Uh-huh.          BRIGITTE          .I can't.          Ginger gives Brigitte a look over the top of her comic.          Brigitte takes adeep breath, and lines the needle up again.          Brigitte swallows hard and applies pressure. The needle          pierces Ginger's skin. Her stomach musclesflinch.          GINGER          OUCH!          BRIGITTE          You said it wouldn't hurt!          GINGER          Jus' hurry up!          The needle has stopped moving half-way throughthe skin.          BRIGITTE          Uh-oh .          Brigitte wiggles the needle. Blood wells up around it.          BRIGITTE          Um. I think it's stuck. Oh man.          There's blood...          Ginger lowersher comic. she takes one look at the needle          half-.in, half-out of her belly button - and cracksup.                                                   3          BRIGITTE          snot funny, Ginger!          Laughing her head off, Ginger gives the needle a goodtug          from her end. The skin tugs with it, resisting.          BRIGITTE          Ali, gawd, gross.          Ginger yanks the needle, hard. This time it moves.          GINGER          I got it, I gotit.          Ginger grits her teeth. The needle begins a slow progress.          GINGER          It's goin', it's goin'- gimme          the ring          Brigitte grabs at a tiny silver ring on the bed spread but          knocks itto the floor. Brigitte scrambles after it. Ginger          yanks the needle.          GINGER          Bee?! C'mon!          Brigitte finds the ring and hands it to Ginger. Ginger sets          the ring on the end of theneedle, looping it not-so-neatly          through.          BRIGITTE          Oh, groo-oo-o-ss!          The bloody needle pops clear. Ginger grinds on the ring to          close it. Ginger wipes her bloody hands on thebed. Brigitte          is taking deep, gulping breaths.          GINGER          Bee? Feeb. Y'okay?          BRIGITTE          Yeah. I think so.          GINGER          (TEASING)          Yeah, Ithink not.          BRIGITTE          If you din't say it hurt, I'd a          been fine!          Ginger beams at her newpiercing.                                                   4          GINGER          Pretty cool, unh?          The flesh around the navel is hot pink and bruising.Brigitte          grins too.          BRIGITTE          very cool.          GINGER          Now I'll do you.          Brigitte bravely hangs onto to her smile.          BRIGITTE (V/O)          We doeverything together. But,          at fifteen? A chick can change.          Ya know?          [3A! You got no idea.          EXT. THE FTTZGERALD BACKYARD - DAY          It's a beautiful autumn day in suburbia. Birdssing. The          terrier next door (NORMAN) barks and barks.          A pierced navel is stretched taught, filling with blood.          Ginger's limp body is bent backward over a low fence. Blood          is flowing from whereshe's been speared through her chest:          Ginger's impaled on a white picket.          BRIGITTE (V/O)          Don't get me wrong. It's not          like we were all happy or          nothin' to beginwith.          Brigitte takes a long, ponderous drag on her cigarette as -          unmoved - she takes in Ginger's mortal wound. Brigitte eyes          the identical homes and gardens that stretch on tothe          horizon.          BRIGITTE (V/O)          The suburb of Bailey Downs?          Basically a well lit black hole.          The Kingdom of cul du sac.          That's French for Dead End.          Brigitte flicks hersmoke into a pile of neatly raked leaves.          It smolders then goes out. She scowls.                                                   5          BRIGITTE (V/O)          Youhad a gram of personality          out here? Life bit the big one.          A truck with COUNTY REGREENING PROGRAM on its side pulls up a          few houses over. Brigitte watches a shirtless sun-bronzed          Adonis -SAM -- climb out of the cab.          BRIGITTE (V/O)          Of course I'm generalizing.          A tarty teenage girl - TRINA - bounds up to Sam and gives him          a big wet one.          BRIGITTE(V/0)          No I'm not.          GINGER          The fuck, Bee. Take a picture          already.          Brigitte raises a 35mm still camera to her eye and frames her          sister's corpse in theviewfinder.          ROLL HEAD CREDIT SEQUENCE:          snap! A slide of Ginger - dead on a white picket fence -          smashes on. The HEAD CREDITS are superimposed on each of the          slideimages:          snap! Ginger sliced up with an electric knife in the kitchen,          Snap! Ginger drowned in a bubble bath,          Snap! Ginger hanged by nylons in the laundry room,          Snap! Ginger mangled underthe front tires of a mini van.          PICTURE TITLE: GINGER SNAPS.          INT. BAILEY HIGH ART ROOM - DAY          The Fitzgerald sisters stand over a slide projector in art          class, just finishingthe slide show from the credit          sequence. An empty frame of blinding white light snaps onto          the collapsible screen at the front of the room.          The homely ART TEACHER looks very concerned as she hitsthe          lights. The other STUDENTS â¢-- all about fifteen, middle-class          and raging conformists -- sit in stunned silence. As Brigitte          and Ginger return to their side-by-sideseats,                                                   6          BRIGITTE (V/O)          We were always considered          freaks. For as long as I can          remember, therewas Us. And          there was Them. Like from          kindergarten.          ART TEACHER          Very -um. Class? Comments?          The students trade constipated looks.          ARTTEACHER          Brigitte. What does it mean for          you?          Brigitte shrugs and squirms.          GINGER          Means there's more to life than          -- well, li.fe.          The Fitzgeralds lookexpectantly at row after row of blank          faces. Brigitte shakes her head.          BRIGITTE (V/O)          Attempts at communication wore          futile.          JASON McCARDY- a good-looking high schoolCasanova - looks          Ginger over appraisingly. Ginger ignores him.          BRIGITTE (V/O)          Some of Them did seem to wanna          reach Ginger?          Brigitte glances from Ginger's breasts to herown flat chest.          Brigitte takes a deep breath.          BRIGITTE (V/O)          But nobody wanned to reach me.          The bell goes.          BRIGITTE (V/O)          (a tad defensive)          Like Icared.                                                   7          INT. BAILEY HIGH HALLS - DAY          TEENS clog the halls. Judging by the herd, Bailey High is not          bigon individual identity, or at least its outward          expression.          Ginger and Brigitte slip down the crowded corridors, sticking          out like sore thumbs. Ginger holds herforehead.          GINGER          Gawd, People! They hurt my          brain!          BRIGITTE          They didn't even get it.          GINGER          They'reretards.          BRIGITTE          They're cretins.          GINGER          They're bone-heads.          BRIGITTE          't'hey' re somnambulists.          GINGER          They'releems.          BRIGITTE          They're the goddamn walkin'-/          The girls stop before their locker. A folded up piece of          loose leaf has been crushed into it, its end sticking out.          BR I GITTE          (UNIMPRESSED)          Another one?          Ginger opens the locker. She unfolds the paper. There's a big          fat joint inside, and a note that says: GINGER, CALL555-          4636.          Ginger pockets the joint, crumples the paper into a ball and          tosses it at a near-by trash can. She misses.          The girls head down thehall..          BRIGITTE          Somebody leaves you all. these          jays an, yer not even curious