| 1. | |
| The following text fades in over black: | |
| This is a true story. The events depicted in this film took | |
| place in Minnesota in 1987. At the request of the | |
| survivors, the names have been changed. Out of respect for | |
| the dead, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred. | |
| FLARE TO WHITE | |
| FADE IN FROM WHITE | |
| Slowly the white becomes a barely perceptible image: white | |
| particles wave over a white background. A snowfall. | |
| A car bursts through the curtain of snow. | |
| The car is equipped with a hitch and is towing another car, | |
| a brand-new light brown Cutlass Ciera with the pink sales | |
| sticker showing in its rear window. | |
| As the car roars past, leaving snow swirling in their dirt, | |
| the title of the film fades in. | |
| FARGO | |
| Green highway signs point the way to MOOREHEAD, | |
| MINNESOTA/FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA. The roads for the two cities | |
| diverge. A sign says WELCOME TO NORTH DAKOTA and another | |
| just after says NOW ENTERING FARGO, ND, POP. 44,412. | |
| The car pulls into a Rodeway Inn. | |
| 1 INT. HOTEL LOBBY 1 | |
| A man in his early forties, balding and starting to paunch, | |
| goes to the reception desk. The clerk is an older woman. | |
| CLERK | |
| And how are you today, sir? | |
| MAN | |
| Real good now. I'm checking in - | |
| Mr. Anderson. | |
| The man prints "Jerry Lundega" onto a registration card, | |
| then hastily crosses out the last name and starts to print | |
| "Anderson." | |
| As she types into a computer: | |
| 2. | |
| CLERK | |
| Okay, Mr. Anderson, and you're | |
| still planning on staying with us | |
| just the night, then? | |
| ANDERSON | |
| You bet. | |
| 2 INT. HOTEL ROOM 2 | |
| The man turns on the TV, which shows the local evening | |
| news. | |
| NEWS ANCHOR | |
| - whether they will go to summer | |
| camp at all. Katie Jensen has more. | |
| KATIE | |
| It was supposed to be a project | |
| funded by the city council; it was | |
| supposed to benefit those Fargo- | |
| Moorehead children who would | |
| otherwise not be able to afford to | |
| attend a lakeshore summer camp. But | |
| nobody consulted city controller | |
| Stu Jacobson... | |
| 3 INT. CHAIN RESTAURANT 3 | |
| Anderson sits alone at a table finishing dinner. Muzak | |
| plays. A middle-aged waitress approaches holding a pot of | |
| regular coffee in one hand and decaf in the other. | |
| WAITRESS | |
| Can I warm that up for ya there? | |
| ANDERSON | |
| You bet. | |
| The man looks at his watch. | |
| THROUGH A WINDSHIELD | |
| We are pulling into the snowswept parking lot of a one- | |
| story brick building. Broken neon at the top of the | |
| building identifies it as the Jolly Troll Tavern. A troll, | |
| also in neon, holds a champagne glass aloft. | |
| INSIDE | |
| 3. | |
| The bar is downscale even for this town. Country music | |
| plays on the jukebox. | |
| Two men are seated in a booth at the back. One is short, | |
| slight, youngish. The other man is somewhat older, and | |
| dour. The table in front of them is littered with empty | |
| long-neck beer bottles. The ashtray is full. | |
| Anderson approaches. | |
| ANDERSON | |
| I'm, uh, Jerry Lundegaard - | |
| YOUNGER MAN | |
| You're Jerry Lundegaard? | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, Shep Proudfoot said - | |
| YOUNGER MAN | |
| Shep said you'd be here at 7:30. | |
| What gives, man? | |
| JERRY | |
| Shep said 8:30. | |
| YOUNGER MAN | |
| We been sitting here an hour. I've | |
| peed three times already. | |
| JERRY | |
| I'm sure sorry. I - Shep told me | |
| 8:30. It was a mix-up, I guess. | |
| YOUNGER MAN | |
| Ya got the car? | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, you bet. It's in the lot | |
| there. Brand-new burnt umber Ciera. | |
| YOUNGER MAN | |
| Yeah, okay. Well, siddown then. I'm | |
| Carl Showalter and this is my | |
| associate Gaear Grimsrud. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, how ya doin'. So, uh, we all | |
| set on this thing, then? | |
| YOUNGER MAN | |
| Sure, Jerry, we're all set. Why | |
| wouldn't we be? | |
| 4. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, no, I'm sure you are. Shep | |
| vouched for you and all. I got | |
| every confidence in you fellas. | |
| They stare at him. An awkward beat. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... So I guess that's it, then. | |
| Here's the keys - | |
| CARL | |
| No, that's not it, Jerry. | |
| JERRY | |
| Huh? | |
| CARL | |
| The new vehicle, plus forty | |
| thousand dollars. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, but the deal was, the car | |
| first, see, then the forty | |
| thousand, like as if it was the | |
| ransom. I thought Shep told you - | |
| CARL | |
| Shep didn't tell us much, Jerry. | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, okay, it's - | |
| CARL | |
| Except that you were gonna be here | |
| at 7:30. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, well, that was a mix-up, then. | |
| CARL | |
| Yeah, you already said that. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. But it's not a whole pay-in- | |
| advance deal. I give you a brand- | |
| new vehicle in advance and - | |
| CARL | |
| I'm not gonna debate you, Jerry. | |
| JERRY | |
| Okay. | |
| 5. | |
| CARL | |
| I'm not gonna sit here and debate. | |
| I will say this though: what Shep | |
| told us didn't make a whole lot of | |
| sense. | |
| JERRY | |
| Oh, no, it's real sound. It's all | |
| worked out. | |
| CARL | |
| You want your own wife kidnapped? | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. | |
| Carl Stares. Jerry looks blankly back. | |
| CARL | |
| ... You - my point is, you pay the | |
| ransom - what eighty thousand | |
| bucks? - I mean, you give us half | |
| the ransom, forty thousand, you | |
| keep half. It's like robbing Peter | |
| to play Paul, it doesn't make any - | |
| JERRY | |
| Okay, it's - see, it's not me | |
| payin' the ransom. The thing is, my | |
| wife, she's wealthy - her dad, he's | |
| real well off. Now, I'm in a bit of | |
| trouble - | |
| CARL | |
| What kind of trouble are you in, | |
| Jerry? | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, that's, that's, I'm not go | |
| inta, inta - see, I just need | |
| money. Now, her dad's real wealthy | |
| - | |
| CARL | |
| So why don't you just ask him for | |
| the money? | |
| Grimsrud, the dour man who has not yet spoken, now softly | |
| puts in with a Swedish-accented voice: | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| Or your fucking wife, you know. | |
| 6. | |
| CARL | |
| Or your fucking wife, Jerry. | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, it's all just part of this - | |
| they don't know I need it, see. | |
| Okay, so there's that. And even if | |
| they did, I wouldn't get it. So | |
| there's that on top, then. See, | |
| these're personal matters. | |
| CARL | |
| Personal matters. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. Personal matters that needn't, | |
| uh - | |
| CARL | |
| Okay, Jerry. You're tasking us to | |
| perform this mission, but you, you | |
| won't, uh, you won't - aw, fuck it, | |
| let's take a look at that Ciera. | |
| 4 INT. MINNEAPOLIS SUBURBAN HOUSE 4 | |
| Jerry enters through the kitchen door, in a parka and a red | |
| plaid Elmer Fudd hat. He stamps snow off his feet. He is | |
| carrying a bag of groceries which he deposits on the | |
| kitchen counter. | |
| JERRY | |
| Hon? Got the growshries. | |
| VOICE | |
| Thank you, hon. How's Fargo? | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, real good. | |
| VOICE | |
| Dad's here. | |
| DEN | |
| Jerry enters, pulling off his plaid cap. | |
| JERRY | |
| How ya doin', Wade? | |
| Wade Gustafson is mid-sixtyish, vigorous, with a full head | |
| of gray hair. His eyes remain fixed on the TV. | |
| 7. | |
| WADE | |
| Yah, pretty good. | |
| JERRY | |
| Whatcha watchin' there? | |
| WADE | |
| Norstars. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Who they playin'? | |
| WADE | |
| OOOoooh! | |
| His reaction synchronizes with a reaction from the crowd. | |
| 5 INT. KITCHEN 5 | |
| Jerry walks back in, taking off his coat. His wife is | |
| putting on an apron. Jerry nods toward the living room. | |
| JERRY | |
| Is he stayin' for supper, then? | |
| WIFE | |
| Yah, I think so... Dad, are you | |
| stayin' for supper? | |
| WADE | |
| (off) | |
| Yah. | |
| 6 INT. DINING ROOM 6 | |
| Jerry, his wife, Wade and Scotty, twelve years old, sit | |
| eating. | |
| SCOTTY | |
| May I be excused? | |
| JERRY | |
| Sure, ya done there? | |
| SCOTTY | |
| Uh-huh. Goin' out. | |
| WIFE | |
| Where are you going? | |
| 8. | |
| SCOTTY | |
| Just out. Just McDonald's. | |
| JERRY | |
| Back at 9:30. | |
| SCOTTY | |
| Okay. | |
| WADE | |
| He just ate. And he didn't finish. | |
| He's going to McDonald's instead of | |
| finishing here? | |
| WIFE | |
| He sees his friends there. It's | |
| okay. | |
| WADE | |
| It's okay? McDonald's? What do you | |
| think they do there? They don't | |
| drink milkshakes, I assure you! | |
| WIFE | |
| It's okay, Dad. | |
| JERRY | |
| Wade, have ya had a chance to think | |
| about, uh, that deal I was talkin' | |
| about, those forty acres there on | |
| Wayzata? | |
| WADE | |
| You told me about it. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, you said you'd have a think | |
| about it. I understand it's a lot | |
| of money - | |
| WADE | |
| A heck of a lot. What'd you say you | |
| were gonna put there? | |
| JERRY | |
| A lot. It's a limited - | |
| WADE | |
| I know it's a lot. | |
| JERRY | |
| I mean a parking lot. | |
| 9. | |
| WADE | |
| Yah, well, seven hundred and fifty | |
| thousand dollars is a lot - ha ha | |
| ha! | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, well, it's a chunk, but - | |
| WADE | |
| I thought you were gonna show it to | |
| Stan Grossman. He passes on this | |
| stuff before it gets kicked up to | |
| me. | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, you know Stan'll say no dice. | |
| That's why you pay him. I'm asking | |
| you here, Wade. This could work out | |
| real good for me and Jean and | |
| Scotty - | |
| WADE | |
| Jean and Scotty never have to | |
| worry. | |
| WHITE | |
| A black like curls through the white. Twisting perspective | |
| shows that it is an aerial shot of a two-lane highway, | |
| bordered by snowfields. The highway carries one moving car. | |
| 7 INT. CAR 7 | |
| Carl Showalter is driving. Gaear Grimsrud stares blankly | |
| out. | |
| After a long beat: | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| Where is Pancakes Hause? | |
| CARL | |
| What? | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| We stop at Pancakes Hause. | |
| CARL | |
| 10. | |
| What're you, nuts? We had pancakes | |
| for breakfast. I gotta go somewhere | |
| I can get a shot and a beer - and a | |
| steak maybe. Not more fuckin' | |
| pancakes. Come on. | |
| Grimsrud gives him a sour look. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Come on, man. Okay, here's an | |
| idea. We'll stop outside of | |
| Brainerd. I know a place there we | |
| can get laid. Wuddya think? | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| I'm fuckin' hungry now, you know. | |
| CARL | |
| Yeah, yeah, Jesus - I'm sayin', | |
| we'll stop for pancakes, then we'll | |
| get laid. Wuddya think? | |
| 8 INT. GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE 8 | |
| Jerry is sitting in his glassed-in salesman's cubicle just | |
| off the showroom floor. On the other side of his desk sit | |
| an irate customer and his wife. | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| We sat here right in this room and | |
| went over this and over this! | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, but that TruCoat - | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| I sat right here and said I didn't | |
| want no TruCoat! | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, but I'm sayin', that TruCoat, | |
| you don't get it and you get | |
| oxidization problems. It'll cost | |
| you a heck of lot more'n five | |
| hunnert - | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| You're sittin' here, you're talkin' | |
| in circles! You're talkin' like we | |
| didn't go over this already! | |
| JERRY | |
| 11. | |
| Yah, but this TruCoat - | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| We had us a deal here for nine- | |
| teen-five. You sat there and darned | |
| if you didn't tell me you'd get | |
| this car, these options, WITHOUT | |
| THE SEALANT, for nine-teen-five! | |
| JERRY | |
| Okay, I'm not sayin' I didn't - | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| You called me twenty minutes ago | |
| and said you had it! Ready to make | |
| delivery, ya says! Come on down and | |
| get it! And here ya are and you're | |
| wastin' my time and you're wastin' | |
| my wife's time and I'm payin' | |
| nineteen-five for this vehicle | |
| here! | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, okay, I'll talk to my boss... | |
| He rises, and, as he leaves: | |
| JERRY | |
| ... See, they install that TruCoat | |
| at the factory, there's nothin' we | |
| can do, but I'll talk to my boss. | |
| The couple watch him go to a nearby cubicle. | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| These guys here - these guys! It's | |
| always the same! It's always more! | |
| He's a liar! | |
| WIFE | |
| Please, dear. | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| We went over this and over this - | |
| 9 INT. NEARBY CUBICLE 9 | |
| Jerry sits perched on the desk of another salesman who is | |
| eating lunch as he watches a hockey game on a small | |
| portable TV. | |
| JERRY | |
| 12. | |
| So you're goin' to the Gophers on | |
| Sunday? | |
| SALESMAN | |
| You bet. | |
| JERRY | |
| You wouldn't have an extra ticket | |
| there? | |
| SALESMAN | |
| They're playin' the Buckeyes! | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. | |
| SALESMAN | |
| Ya kiddin'! | |
| 10 INT. JERRY'S CUBICLE 10 | |
| Jerry re-enters. | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, he never done this before, | |
| but seein' as it's special | |
| circumstances and all, he says I | |
| can knock one hunnert off that | |
| TruCoat. | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| One hundred! You lied to me, Mr. | |
| Lundegaard. You're a bald-faced | |
| liar! | |
| Jerry sits staring at his lap. | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| ... A fucking liar - | |
| WIFE | |
| Bucky, please! | |
| Jerry mumbles into his lap: | |
| JERRY | |
| One hunnert's the best we can do | |
| here. | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| 13. | |
| Oh, for Christ's sake, where's my | |
| goddamn checkbook. Let's get this | |
| over with. | |
| WIDE EXTERIOR: TRUCK STOP | |
| There is a restaurant with many big rigs parked nearby, and | |
| a motel with an outsize Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox | |
| flanking its sign: BLUE OX MOTEL. | |
| 11 INT. MOTEL ROOM 11 | |
| Carl Showalter and Gaear Grimsrud are in the twin beds | |
| having sex with two truck-stop hookers. | |
| CARL | |
| Oh, Jesus, yeah. | |
| HIS HOOKER | |
| There ya go, sugar. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| Nnph. | |
| HIS HOOKER | |
| Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. | |
| LATER | |
| The couples like in their respective beds, gazing at the | |
| offscreen TV. | |
| ED MCMAHON | |
| - Johnny's guests tonight will be | |
| Lee Majors, George Wendt, and Steve | |
| Boutsikaros from the San Diego Zoo, | |
| so keep that dial - | |
| 12 INT. LUNDEGAARD KITCHEN 12 | |
| We hear a morning show on television. Jean Lundegaard is | |
| making coffee in the kitchen as Scott eats cereal at the | |
| table. | |
| JEAN | |
| I'm talkin' about your potential. | |
| SCOTT | |
| (absently) | |
| Uh-huh. | |
| 14. | |
| JEAN | |
| You're not a C student. | |
| SCOTT | |
| Uhn. | |
| JEAN | |
| And yet you're gettin' C grades. | |
| It's this disparity there that | |
| concerns your dad and me. | |
| SCOTT | |
| Uh-huh. | |
| JEAN | |
| You know what a disparity is? | |
| SCOTT | |
| (testily) | |
| Yeah! | |
| JEAN | |
| Okay. Well, that's why we don't | |
| want ya goin' out fer hockey. | |
| SCOTT | |
| Oh, man! | |
| The phone rings. | |
| SCOTT | |
| ... What's the big deal? It's an | |
| hour - | |
| JEAN | |
| Hold on. | |
| She picks up the phone. | |
| JEAN | |
| ... Hello? | |
| PHONE VOICE | |
| Yah, hiya, hon. | |
| JEAN | |
| Oh, hiya, Dad. | |
| WADE | |
| Jerry around? | |
| JEAN | |
| 15. | |
| Yah, he's still here - I'll catch | |
| him for ya. | |
| She holds the phone away and calls: | |
| JEAN | |
| ... Hon? | |
| VOICE | |
| Yah. | |
| JEAN | |
| It's Dad. | |
| VOICE | |
| Yah... | |
| Jerry enters in shirtsleeves and tie. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Yah, okay... | |
| SCOTT | |
| Look, Dad, there is no fucking way | |
| - | |
| JEAN | |
| Scott! | |
| JERRY | |
| Say, let's watch the language - | |
| He takes the phone. | |
| JERRY | |
| How ya doin', Wade? | |
| WADE | |
| What's goin' on there? | |
| JERRY | |
| Oh, nothing, Wade. How ya doin' | |
| there? | |
| WADE | |
| Stan Grossman looked at your | |
| proposal. Says it's pretty sweet. | |
| JERRY | |
| No kiddin'? | |
| WADE | |
| 16. | |
| We might be innarested. | |
| JERRY | |
| No kiddin'! I'd need the cash | |
| pretty quick there. In order to | |
| close the deal. | |
| WADE | |
| Come by at 2:30 and we'll talk | |
| about it. If your numbers are | |
| right, Stan says its pretty sweet. | |
| Stan Grossman. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. | |
| WADE | |
| 2:30. | |
| Click. Dial tone. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, okay. | |
| 13 INT. GUSTAFSON OLD GARAGE 13 | |
| Jerry wanders through the service area where cars are being | |
| worked on. He stops by an Indian in blue jeans who is | |
| looking at the underside of a car that sits on a hydraulic | |
| lift with a cage light hanging off its innards. | |
| JERRY | |
| Say, Shep, how ya doin' there? | |
| SHEP | |
| Mm. | |
| JERRY | |
| Say, ya know those two fellas ya | |
| put me in touch with, up there in | |
| Fargo? | |
| SHEP | |
| Put you in touch with Grimsrud. | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, yah, but he had a buddy | |
| there. He, uh - | |
| SHEP | |
| Well, I don't vouch for him. | |
| 17. | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, that's okay, I just - | |
| SHEP | |
| I vouch for Grimsrud. Who's his | |
| buddy? | |
| JERRY | |
| Carl somethin'? | |
| SHEP | |
| Never heard of him. Don't vouch for | |
| him. | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, that's okay, he's a buddy of | |
| the guy ya vouched for, so I'm not | |
| worryin'. I just, I was wonderin', | |
| see, I gotta get in touch with 'em | |
| for, I might not need it anymore, | |
| sumpn's happenin', see - | |
| SHEP | |
| Call 'em up. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, well, see, I did that, and I | |
| haven't been able to get 'em, so I | |
| thought you maybe'd know an | |
| alternate number or what have ya. | |
| SHEP | |
| Nope. | |
| Jerry slaps his fist into his open palm and snaps his | |
| fingers. | |
| JERRY | |
| Okay, well, real good, then. | |
| CAR | |
| Carl is driving. Grimsrud stares out front. | |
| After a beat: | |
| CARL | |
| ... Look at that. Twin Cities. IDS | |
| Building, the big glass one. | |
| Tallest skyscraper in the Midwest. | |
| After the Sears, uh, Chicago... You | |
| never been to Minneapolis? | |
| 18. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| No. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Would it kill you to say | |
| something? | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| I did. | |
| CARL | |
| "No." First thing you've said in | |
| the last four hours. That's a, | |
| that's a fountain of conversation, | |
| man. That's a geyser. I mean, whoa, | |
| daddy, stand back, man. Shit, I'm | |
| sittin' here driving, man, doin' | |
| all the driving, whole fuckin' way | |
| from Brainerd, drivin', tryin' to, | |
| you know, tryin' to chat, keep our | |
| spirits up, fight the boredom of | |
| the road, and you can't say one | |
| fucking thing just in the way of | |
| conversation. | |
| Grimsurd smokes, gazing out the window. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Well, fuck it, I don't have to | |
| talk either, man. See how you like | |
| it... | |
| He drives. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Total silence... | |
| 14 INT. JERRY'S CUBICLE 14 | |
| He is on the phone. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, real good. How you doin'? | |
| VOICE | |
| Pretty good, Mr. Lundegaard. You're | |
| damned hard to get on the phone. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, it's pretty darned busy here, | |
| but that's the way we like it. | |
| 19. | |
| VOICE | |
| That's for sure. Now, I just need, | |
| on these last, these financing | |
| documents you sent us, I can't read | |
| the serial numbers of the vehicles | |
| on here, so I - | |
| JERRY | |
| But I already got the, it's okay, | |
| the loans are in place, I already | |
| got the, the what, the - | |
| VOICE | |
| Yeah, the three hundred and twenty | |
| thousand dollars, you got the money | |
| last month. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, so we're all set. | |
| VOICE | |
| Yeah, but the vehicles you were | |
| borrowing on, I just can't read the | |
| serial numbers on your applicaton. | |
| Maybe if you could just read them | |
| to me - | |
| JERRY | |
| But the deal's already done, I | |
| already got the money - | |
| VOICE | |
| Yeah, but we have an audit here, I | |
| just have to know that these | |
| vehicles you're financing with this | |
| money, that they really exist. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, well, they exist all right. | |
| VOICE | |
| I'm sure they do - ha ha! But I | |
| can't read their serial numbers | |
| here. So if you could read me - | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, but see, I don't have 'em in | |
| front a me - why don't I just fax | |
| you over a copy - | |
| VOICE | |
| 20. | |
| No, fax is no good, that's what I | |
| have and I can't read the darn | |
| thing - | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, okay, I'll have my girl send | |
| you over a copy, then. | |
| VOICE | |
| Okay, because if I can't correlate | |
| this note with the specific | |
| vehicles, then I gotta call back | |
| that money - | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, how much money was that? | |
| VOICE | |
| Three hundred and twenty thousand | |
| dollars. See, I gotta correlate | |
| that money with the cars it's being | |
| lent on. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, no problem, I'll just fax that | |
| over to ya, then. | |
| VOICE | |
| No, no, fax is - | |
| JERRY | |
| I mean send it over. I'll shoot it | |
| right over to ya. | |
| VOICE | |
| Okay. | |
| JERRY | |
| Okay, real good, then. | |
| CLOSE ON TELEVISION | |
| A morning-show host in an apron stands behind a counter on | |
| a kitchen set. | |
| HOST | |
| So I seperate the - how the heck do | |
| I get the egg out of the shell | |
| without breaking it? | |
| Jean Lundegaard is curled up on the couch with a cup of | |
| coffee, watching the television. | |
| 21. | |
| HOSTESS | |
| You just prick a little hole in the | |
| end and blow! | |
| Jean smiles as we hear laughter and applause from the | |
| studio audience. She hears something else - a faint | |
| scraping sound - and looks up. | |
| HOST | |
| Okay, here goes nothing. | |
| The scraping sound persists. Jean sets down her coffee cup | |
| and rises. | |
| From the studio audience: | |
| AUDIENCE | |
| Awoooo! | |
| 15 INT. KITCHEN 15 | |
| We track toward the back door. A curtain is stretched tight | |
| across its window. | |
| Jean pulls the curtain back. Bright sunlight amplified by | |
| snow floods in. | |
| A man in an orange ski mask looks up from the lock. | |
| Jean gasps, drops the curtain, runs and runs into - | |
| - a taller man, also in a ski mask, already in the house. | |
| We hear the crack of the back-door window being smashed. | |
| The tall man - Gaear Grimsrud - grabs Jean's wrist. | |
| She screams, staring at her own imprisoned wrist, then | |
| wraps her gaping mouth around Grimsrud's gloved thumb and | |
| bites down hard. | |
| He drops her wrist. As Carl enters, she races up the | |
| stairs. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| Unguent. | |
| CARL | |
| Huh? | |
| Grimsurd looks at his thumb. | |
| 22. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| I need ... unguent. | |
| 16 INT. UPSTAIRS BEDROOM 16 | |
| As the two men enter, a door at the far side is slamming | |
| shut. A cord snakes in under the door. | |
| 17 INT. MASTER BATHROOM 17 | |
| Jean, sobbing, frantically pushes at buttons on the | |
| princess phone. | |
| The phone pops out of her hands, jangles across the tile | |
| floor, smashes against the door and then bounces away, its | |
| cord ripped free. | |
| With a groaning sound, the door shifts in its frame. | |
| 18 INT. BEDROOM 18 | |
| Grimsrud has a crowbar jammed in between the bathroom door | |
| and frame, and is working it. | |
| 19 INT. BATHROOM 19 | |
| Jean crosses to a high window above the toilet and throws | |
| it open. Snow that had drifted against the window sifts | |
| lightly in. Jean steps up onto the toilet. | |
| The door creaks, moving as one piece in its frame. | |
| Jean glances back as she steps up from the toilet seat to | |
| the tank. | |
| The groaning of the door ends with the wood around its knob | |
| splintering and the knob itself falling out onto the floor. | |
| The door swings open. | |
| Grimsrud and Carl enter. | |
| THEIR POV | |
| Room empty, window open. | |
| Carl strides to the window and hoists himself out. | |
| 23. | |
| Grimsrud opens the medicine cabinet and delicately taps | |
| aside various bottles and tubes, seeking the proper | |
| unguent. | |
| He finds a salve but after a moment sets it down, noticing | |
| something in the mirror. | |
| The shower curtain is drawn around the tub. | |
| He steps toward it. | |
| As he reaches for the curtain, it explodes outward, | |
| animated by thrashing limbs. | |
| Jean, screaming, tangled in the curtain, rips it off its | |
| rings and stumbles out into the bedroom. Grimsrud follows. | |
| 20 INT. BEDROOM 20 | |
| Jean rushes toward the door, cloaked by the shower curtain | |
| but awkwardly trying to push it off. | |
| UPSTAIRS LANDING | |
| Still thrashing, Jean crashes against the upstairs railing, | |
| trips on the curtain and falls, thumping crazily down the | |
| stairs. | |
| Grimsrud trots down after her. | |
| A PLAQUE: WADE GUSTAFSON INCORPORTATED | |
| 21 INT. WADE'S OFFICE 21 | |
| Wade sits behind his desk; another man rises as Jerry | |
| enters. | |
| JERRY | |
| How ya doin' there, Stan? How are | |
| ya, Wade? | |
| Stan Grossman shakes his hand. | |
| STAN | |
| Good to see ya again, Jerry. If | |
| these numbers are right, this looks | |
| pretty sweet. | |
| JERRY | |
| 24. | |
| Oh, those numbers are all right, | |
| bleemee. | |
| WADE | |
| This is do-able. | |
| STAN | |
| Congratulations, Jerry. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, thanks, Stan, it's a pretty - | |
| WADE | |
| What kind of finder's fee were you | |
| looking for? | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Huh? | |
| STAN | |
| The financials are pretty thorough, | |
| so the only thing we don't know is | |
| your fee. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... My fee? Wade, what the heck're | |
| you talkin' about? | |
| WADE | |
| Stan and I're okay. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. | |
| WADE | |
| We're good to loan in. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. | |
| WADE | |
| But we never talked about your fee | |
| for bringin' it to us. | |
| JERRY | |
| No, but, Wade, see, I was bringin' | |
| you this deal for you to loan me | |
| the money to put in. It's my deal | |
| here, see? | |
| Wade scowls, looks at Stan. | |
| STAN | |
| 25. | |
| Jerry - we thought you were | |
| bringin' us an investment. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, right - | |
| STAN | |
| You're sayin' - what're you sayin'? | |
| WADE | |
| You're sayin' that we put in all | |
| the money and you collect when it | |
| pays off? | |
| JERRY | |
| No, no. I - I'd, I'd - pay you back | |
| the principal, and interest - heck, | |
| I'd go - one over prime - | |
| STAN | |
| We're not a bank, Jerry. | |
| Wade is angry. | |
| WADE | |
| What the heck, Jerry, if I wanted | |
| bank interest on seven hunnert'n | |
| fifty thousand I'd go to Midwest | |
| Federal. Talk to Bill Diehl. | |
| STAN | |
| He's at Norstar. | |
| WADE | |
| He's at - | |
| JERRY | |
| No, see, I don't need a finder's | |
| fee, I need - finder's fee's, what, | |
| ten percent, heck that's not gonna | |
| do it for me. I need the principal. | |
| STAN | |
| Jerry, we're not just going to give | |
| you seven hundred and fifty | |
| thousand dollars. | |
| WADE | |
| What the heck were you thinkin'? | |
| Heck, if I'm only gettin' bank | |
| interest, I'd look for complete | |
| security. Heck, FDIC. I don't see | |
| nothin' like that here. | |
| 26. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, but I - okay, I would, I'd | |
| guarantee ya your money back. | |
| WADE | |
| I'm not talkin' about your damn | |
| word, Jerry. Geez, what the heck're | |
| you?... Well, look, I don't want to | |
| cut you out of the loop, but his | |
| here's a good deal. I assume, if | |
| you're not innarested, you won't | |
| mind if we move on it | |
| independently. | |
| 22 INT. PARKING LOT 22 | |
| We are high and wide on the office building's parking lot. | |
| Jerry emerges wrapped in a parka, his arms sticking stiffly | |
| out at his sides, his breath vaporizing. He goes to his | |
| car, opens its front door, pulls out a red plastic scraper | |
| and starts methodically scraping off the thin crust of ice | |
| that has developed on his windshield. | |
| The scrape-scrape-scrape sound carries in the frigid air. | |
| Jerry goes into a frenzy, banging the scraper against the | |
| windshield and the hood of his car. | |
| The tantrum passes. Jerry stands pantin, staring at nothing | |
| in particular. | |
| Scrape-scrape-scrape - he goes back to work on the | |
| windshield. | |
| FRONT DOOR | |
| A beat, silent but for a key scraping at the lock. | |
| The door swings open and Jerry edges in, looking about, | |
| holding a sack of groceries. | |
| JERRY | |
| Hon? | |
| He shuts the door. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Got the growshries... | |
| He has already seen the shower curtain on the floor. He | |
| frowns, pokes at it with his foot. | |
| 27. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Hon? | |
| 23 INT. UPSTAIRS BATHROOM 23 | |
| Jerry walks in. He sets the groceries down on the toilet | |
| tank. | |
| He looks at the open window, through which snow still sifts | |
| in. He shuts it. | |
| He picks up the small tube of unguent that sits on the | |
| sink, frowns at it, puts it back in the medicine chest. | |
| He looks at the shower curtain rod holding empty rings. | |
| 24 INT. FOYER 24 | |
| Once again we are looking at the rumpled shower curtain. | |
| From another room: | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, Wade, I - it's Jerry, I. | |
| Then, slightly more agitated. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Yah, Wade, it's, I, it's | |
| Jerry... | |
| Beat. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Wade, it's Jerry, I - we gotta | |
| talk, Wade, it's terrible... | |
| Beat. | |
| 25 INT. LIVING ROOM 25 | |
| Jerry stands in wide shot, hands on hips, looking down at a | |
| telephone. | |
| After a motionless beat he picks up the phone and punches | |
| in a number. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Yah, Wade Gustafson, please. | |
| 28. | |
| BLACK | |
| Hold in black. | |
| A slow tilt down from night sky brings the head of a large | |
| paper-mache figure into frame. It is a flannel-shirt | |
| woodsman carrying a double-edged ax over one shoulder. As | |
| we hear the rumble of an approaching car, the continuing | |
| tilt and boom down brings us down the woodsman's body to a | |
| pedestal. | |
| A sweep of headlights illuminates a sign on the pedestal: | |
| WELCOME TO BRAINDERD - HOME OF PAUL BUNYAN. | |
| The headlights sweep off and a car hums past and on into | |
| the background. The two-lane highway is otherwise empty. | |
| 26 INT. CAR 26 | |
| Carl drives. Grimsrud smokes and gazes out the window. | |
| From the back seat we hear whimpering. | |
| Grimsrud turns to look. | |
| Jean lies bound and curled on the back seat underneath a | |
| tarpaulin. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| Shut the fuck up or I'll throw you | |
| back in the trunk, you know. | |
| CARL | |
| Geez. That's more'n I've heard you | |
| say all week. | |
| Grimsrud stares at him, then turns back to the window. | |
| At a loud WHOOP Carl starts and looks back out the rear | |
| window. Fifty yards behind a state trooper has turned on | |
| his gumballs. | |
| Carl eases the car onto the shoulder. | |
| CARL | |
| Ah, shit, the tags... | |
| Grimsrud looks at him. | |
| CARL | |
| 29. | |
| ... It's just the tags. I never put | |
| my tags on the car. Don't worry, | |
| I'll take care of this. | |
| He looks into the back seat as the car bounces and slows on | |
| the gravel shoulder. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Let's keep still back there, | |
| lady, or we're gonna have to, ya | |
| know, to shoot ya. | |
| Grimsrud stares at Carl. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Hey! I'll take care of this! | |
| Both cars have stopped. Carl looks up at the rear-view | |
| mirror. | |
| The trooper is stopped on the shoulder just behind them, | |
| writing in his citation book. | |
| Carl watches. | |
| We hear the trooper's door open. | |
| The trooper walks up the shoulder, one hand resting lightly | |
| on top of his holster, his breath steaming in the cold | |
| night air. | |
| Carl opens his window as the trooper draws up. | |
| CARL | |
| How can I help you, officer? | |
| The trooper scans the inside of the car, taking his time. | |
| Grimsrud smokes and gazes calmly out his window. | |
| Finally: | |
| TROOPER | |
| This is a new car, then, sir? | |
| CARL | |
| It certainly is, officer. Still got | |
| that smell! | |
| TROOPER | |
| 30. | |
| You're required to display | |
| temporary tags, either in the plate | |
| area or taped inside the back | |
| window. | |
| CARL | |
| Certainly - | |
| TROOPER | |
| Can I see your license and | |
| registration please? | |
| CARL | |
| Certainly. | |
| He reaches for his wallet. | |
| CARL | |
| ... I was gonna tape up the | |
| temporary tag, ya know, to be in | |
| full compliance, but it, uh, it, uh | |
| ... must a slipped my mind... | |
| He extends his wallet toward the trooper, a folded fifty- | |
| dollar bill protruding from it. | |
| CARL | |
| ... So maybe the best thing would | |
| be to take care of that, right here | |
| in Brainerd. | |
| TROOPER | |
| What's this, sir? | |
| CARL | |
| That's my license and regis- | |
| tration. I wanna be in compliance. | |
| He forces a laugh. | |
| CARL | |
| ... I was just thinking I could | |
| take care of it right here. In | |
| Brainerd. | |
| The policeman thoughtfully pats the fifty into the billfold | |
| and hands the billfold back into the car. | |
| TROOPER | |
| Put that back in your pocket, | |
| please. | |
| Carl's nervous smile fades. | |
| 31. | |
| TROOPER | |
| ... And step out of the car, | |
| please, sir. | |
| Grimsrud, smiling thinly, shakes his head. | |
| There is a whimpering sound. | |
| The policeman hesitates. | |
| Another sound. | |
| The policeman leans forward into the car, listening. | |
| Grimsrud reaches across Carl, grabs the trooper by the hair | |
| and slams his head down onto the car door. | |
| The policeman grunts, digs awkwardly for footing outside | |
| and throws an arm for balance against the outside of the | |
| car. | |
| With his free hand, Grimsrud pops the glove compartment. He | |
| brings a gun out and reaches across Carl and shoots - BANG | |
| - into the back of the trooper's head. | |
| Jean screams. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| Shut up. | |
| He releases the policeman. | |
| The policeman's head slides out the window and his body | |
| flops back onto the street. | |
| Carl looks out at the cop in the road. | |
| CARL | |
| (softly) | |
| Whoa... Whoa, Daddy. | |
| Grimsrud takes the trooper's hat off of Carl's lap and | |
| sails it out the open window. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| You'll take care of it. Boy, you | |
| are smooth smooth, you know. | |
| CARL | |
| Whoa, Daddy. | |
| Jean, for some reason, screams again. Then stops. | |
| 32. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| Clear him off the road. | |
| CARL | |
| Yeah. | |
| He gets out. | |
| 27 EXT. ROAD 27 | |
| Carl leans down to hoist up the body. | |
| Headlights appear: an oncoming car. | |
| 28 INT. CIERA 28 | |
| Grimsrud notices. | |
| 29 EXT. ROAD 29 | |
| The car approaches, slowing. | |
| Carl, with the trooper's body hoisted halfway up, is frozen | |
| in the headlights. | |
| The car accelerates and roars past and away. We just make | |
| out the silhouettes of two occupants in front. | |
| 30 INT. CIERA 30 | |
| Grimsrud slides into the driver's seat. He squeals into a | |
| U-turn, the driver's door slamming shut with his spin. | |
| Small red tail lights fishtail up ahead. The pursued car | |
| churns up fine snow. | |
| Grimsrud takes the cigarette from his mouth and stubs it in | |
| his ashtray. We hear the churning of the car wheels and the | |
| pinging of snow clods and salt on the car's underside. | |
| In the back seat, Jean starts screaming. | |
| Grimsrud is not gaining on the tail lights. | |
| He fights with the wheel as his car swims on the road face. | |
| The red tail lights ahead start to turn. With a distant | |
| crunching sound, they disappear. | |
| 33. | |
| The headlights now show only empty road, starting to turn. | |
| Grimsrud frowns and slows. | |
| His headlights show the car up ahead off the road, crumpled | |
| around a telephone pole, having failed to hold a turn. | |
| Grimsrud brakes. | |
| Jean slides off the back seat and thumps into the legwell. | |
| Grimsrud sweeps his gun off the front seat, throws open his | |
| door and gets out. | |
| 31 EXT. ROAD 31 | |
| The wrecked car's headlights shine off into a snowfield | |
| abutting the highway. A young man in a down parka is | |
| limping across the snowfield, away from the wrecked car. | |
| Grimsrud strides calmly out after the injured boy. He | |
| raises his gun and fires. | |
| With a poof of feathers, a hole opens up in the boy's back | |
| and he pitches into the snow. | |
| Grimsrud walks up to the wreck and peers in its half-open | |
| door. | |
| A young woman is trapped inside the twisted wreckage, | |
| injured. | |
| Snow swirls in the headlights of the wreck. | |
| Grimsrud raises his gun and fires. | |
| AN OIL PAINTING | |
| A blue-winged teal in flight over a swampy marshland. The | |
| room in which it hangs is dark. We hear off-screen snoring. | |
| We track off to reveal an easel upon which we see a half- | |
| completed oil of a grey mallard. | |
| The continuing track reveals a couple in bed, sleeping. The | |
| man, fortyish, pajama-clad, is big, and big-bellied. His | |
| mouth is agape. He snores. His arms are flung over a woman | |
| in her thirties, wearing a nightie, mouth also open, not | |
| snoring. | |
| 34. | |
| We hold for a long beat on their regular breathing and | |
| snoring. | |
| The phone rings. | |
| The woman stirs. | |
| WOMAN | |
| Oh, geez... | |
| She reaches for the phone. | |
| WOMAN | |
| ... Hi, it's Marge... | |
| The man stirs and clears his throat with a long deep | |
| rumble. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Oh, my. Where?... Yah... Oh, | |
| geez... | |
| The man sits up, gazes stupidly about. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Okay. There in a jif... Real | |
| good, then. | |
| She hangs up. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... You can sleep, hon. It's early | |
| yet. | |
| MAN | |
| Gotta go? | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah. | |
| The man swings his legs out. | |
| MAN | |
| I'll fix ya some eggs. | |
| MARGE | |
| That's okay, hon. I gotta run. | |
| MAN | |
| Gotta eat a breakfast, Marge. I'll | |
| fix ya some eggs. | |
| 35. | |
| MARGE | |
| Aw, you can sleep, hon. | |
| MAN | |
| Ya gotta eat a breakfast... | |
| He clears his throat with another deep rumble. | |
| MAN | |
| ... I'll fix ya some eggs. | |
| MARGE | |
| Aw, Norm. | |
| PLATE | |
| Leavings of a huge plate of eggs, ham, toast. | |
| Wider, we see Marge now wearing a beige police uniform. A | |
| patch on one arm says BRAINERD POLICE DEPARTMENT. She wears | |
| a heavy belt holding a revolver, walkie-talkie and various | |
| other jangling police impedimenta. Norm is in a dressing | |
| gown. | |
| MARGE | |
| Thanks, hon. Time to shove off. | |
| NORM | |
| Love ya, Margie. | |
| As she struggles into a parka: | |
| MARGE | |
| Love ya, hon. | |
| He is exiting back to the bedroom; she exits out the front | |
| door. | |
| 32 EXT. GUNDERSON HOUSE 32 | |
| Dawn. Marge is making her way down the icy front stoop to | |
| her prowler. | |
| 33 INT. GUNDERSON HOUSE 33 | |
| Norm sits back onto the bed, shrugging off his robe. Off- | |
| screen we hear the front door open. | |
| FRONT DOOR | |
| 36. | |
| Marge stamps the snow off her shoes. | |
| MARGE | |
| Hon? | |
| NORM | |
| (off) | |
| Yah? | |
| MARGE | |
| Prowler needs a jump. | |
| HIGHWAY | |
| Two police cars and an ambulance sit idling at the side of | |
| the road, a pair of men inside each car. | |
| The first car's driver door opens and a figure in a parka | |
| emerges, holding two styrofoam cups. His partner leans | |
| across the seat to close the door after him. | |
| The reverse shows Marge approaching from her own squad car. | |
| MARGE | |
| Hiya, Lou. | |
| LOU | |
| Margie. Thought you might need a | |
| little warm-up. | |
| He hands her one of the cups of coffee. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, thanks a bunch. So what's the | |
| deal, now? Gary says triple | |
| homicide? | |
| LOU | |
| Yah, looks pretty bad. Two of'm're | |
| over here. | |
| Marge looks around as they start walking. | |
| MARGE | |
| Where is everybody? | |
| LOU | |
| Well - it's cold, Margie. | |
| BY THE WRECK | |
| 37. | |
| Laid out in the early morning light is the wrecked car, a | |
| pair of footprints leading out to a man in a bright orange | |
| parka face down in the bloodstained snow, and one pair of | |
| footsteps leading back to the road. | |
| Marge is peering into the car. | |
| MARGE | |
| Ah, geez. So... Aw, geez. Here's | |
| the second one... It's in the head | |
| and the ... hand there, I guess | |
| that's a defensive wound. Okay. | |
| Marge looks up from the car. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Where's the state trooper? | |
| Lou, up on the shoulder, jerks his thumb. | |
| LOU | |
| Back there a good piece. In the | |
| ditch next to his prowler. | |
| Marge looks around at the road. | |
| MARGE | |
| Okay, so we got a state trooper | |
| pulls someone over, we got a | |
| shooting, and these folks drive by, | |
| and we got a high-speed pursuit, | |
| ends here, and this execution-type | |
| deal. | |
| LOU | |
| Yah. | |
| MARGE | |
| I'd be very surprised if our | |
| suspect was from Brainerd. | |
| LOU | |
| Yah. | |
| Marge is studying the ground. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah. And I'll tell you what, from | |
| his footprints he looks like a big | |
| fella - | |
| Marge suddenly doubles over, putting her head between her | |
| knees down near the snow. | |
| 38. | |
| LOU | |
| Ya see something down there, Chief? | |
| MARGE | |
| Uh - I just, I think I'm gonna | |
| barf. | |
| LOU | |
| Geez, you okay, Margie? | |
| MARGE | |
| I'm fine - it's just morning | |
| sickness. | |
| She gets up, sweeping snow from her knees. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Well, that passed. | |
| LOU | |
| Yah? | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah. Now I'm hungry again. | |
| LOU | |
| You had breakfast yet, Margie? | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, yah. Norm made some eggs. | |
| LOU | |
| Yah? Well, what now, d'ya think? | |
| MARGE | |
| Let's go take a look at that | |
| trooper. | |
| BY THE STATE TROOPER'S CAR | |
| Marge's prowler is parked nearby. | |
| Marge is on her hands and knees by a body down in the | |
| ditch, again looking at footprints in the snow. She calls | |
| up to the road: | |
| MARGE | |
| There's two of 'em, Lou! | |
| LOU | |
| Yah? | |
| 39. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, this guy's smaller than his | |
| buddy. | |
| LOU | |
| Oh, yah? | |
| DOWN IN THE DITCH | |
| In the foreground is the head of the state trooper, facing | |
| us. Peering at it from behind, still on her hands and | |
| knees, is Marge. | |
| MARGE | |
| For Pete's sake. | |
| She gets up, clapping the snow off her hands, and climbs | |
| out of the ditch. | |
| LOU | |
| How's it look, Marge? | |
| MARGE | |
| Well, he's got his gun on his hip | |
| there, and he looks like a nice | |
| enough guy. It's a real shame. | |
| LOU | |
| Yah. | |
| MARGE | |
| You haven't monkeyed with his car | |
| there, have ya? | |
| LOU | |
| No way. | |
| She is looking at the prowler, which still idles on the | |
| shoulder. | |
| MARGE | |
| Somebody shut his lights. I guess | |
| the little guy sat in there, | |
| waitin' for his buddy t'come back. | |
| LOU | |
| Yah, woulda been cold out here. | |
| MARGE | |
| Heck, yah. Ya think, is Dave open | |
| yet? | |
| LOU | |
| 40. | |
| You don't think he's mixed up in - | |
| MARGE | |
| No, no, I just wanna get Norm some | |
| night crawlers. | |
| 34 INT. PROWLER 34 | |
| Marge is driving; Lou sits next to her. | |
| MARGE | |
| You look in his citation book? | |
| LOU | |
| Yah... | |
| He looks at his notebook. | |
| LOU | |
| ... Last vehicle he wrote in was a | |
| tan Ciera at 2:18 a.m. Under the | |
| plate number he put DLR - I figure | |
| they stopped him or shot him before | |
| he could finish fillin' out the tag | |
| number. | |
| MARGE | |
| Uh-huh. | |
| LOU | |
| So I got the state lookin' for a | |
| Ciera with a tag startin' DLR. They | |
| don't got no match yet. | |
| MARGE | |
| I'm not sure I agree with you a | |
| hunnert percent on your policework, | |
| there, Lou. | |
| LOU | |
| Yah? | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, I think that vehicle there | |
| probly had dealer plates. DLR? | |
| LOU | |
| Oh... | |
| Lou gazes out the window, thinking. | |
| LOU | |
| 41. | |
| ... Geez. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah. Say, Lou, ya hear the one | |
| about the guy who couldn't afford | |
| personalized plates, so he went and | |
| changed his name to J2L 4685? | |
| LOU | |
| Yah, that's a good one. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah. | |
| THE ROAD | |
| The police car enters with a whoosh and hums down a | |
| straight-ruled empty highway, cutting a landscape of flat | |
| and perfect white. | |
| EMBERS FAMILY RESTAURANT | |
| Jerry, Wade, and Stan Grossman sit in a booth, sipping | |
| coffee. Outside the window, snow falls from a gunmetal sky. | |
| WADE | |
| - All's I know is, ya got a | |
| problem, ya call a professional! | |
| JERRY | |
| No! They said no cops! They were | |
| darned clear on that, Wade! They | |
| said you call the cops and we - | |
| WADE | |
| Well, a course they're gonna say | |
| that! But where's my protection? | |
| They got Jean here! I give these | |
| sons a bitches a million dollars, | |
| where's my guarantee they're gonna | |
| let her go. | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, they - | |
| WADE | |
| A million dollars is a lot a damn | |
| money! And there they are, they got | |
| my daughter! | |
| JERRY | |
| 42. | |
| Yah, but think this thing through | |
| here, Wade. Ya give 'em what they | |
| want, why wont' they let her go? | |
| You gotta listen to me on this one, | |
| Wade. | |
| WADE | |
| Heck, you don't know! You're just | |
| whistlin' Dixie here! I'm sayin', | |
| the cops, they can advise us on | |
| this! I'm sayin' call a | |
| professional! | |
| JERRY | |
| No! No cops! That's final! This is | |
| my deal here, Wade! Jean is my wife | |
| here! | |
| STAN | |
| I gotta tell ya, Wade, I'm leanin' | |
| to Jerry's viewpoint here. | |
| WADE | |
| Well - | |
| STAN | |
| We gotta protect Jean. These - | |
| we're not holdin' any cards here, | |
| Wade, they got all of 'em. So they | |
| call the shots. | |
| JERRY | |
| You're darned tootin'! | |
| WADE | |
| Ah, dammit! | |
| STAN | |
| I'm tellin' ya. | |
| WADE | |
| Well... Why don't we... | |
| He saws a finger under his nose. | |
| WADE | |
| ... Stan, I'm thinkin' we should | |
| offer 'em half a million. | |
| JERRY | |
| Now come on here, no way, Wade! No | |
| way! | |
| 43. | |
| STAN | |
| We're not horse-trading here, Wade, | |
| we just gotta bite the bullet on | |
| this thing. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah! | |
| STAN | |
| What's the next step here, Jerry? | |
| JERRY | |
| They're gonna call, give me | |
| instructions for a drop. I'm | |
| supposed to have the money ready | |
| tomorrow. | |
| WADE | |
| Dammit! | |
| THE CASHIER | |
| She rings up two dollars forty. | |
| CASHIER | |
| How was everything today? | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, real good now. | |
| 35 EXT. PARKING LOT 35 | |
| Snow continues to fall. Jerry and Stan stand bundled in | |
| their parkas and galoshes near a row of beached vehicles. | |
| Wade sits behind the wheel of an idling Lincoln, waiting | |
| for Stan. | |
| STAN | |
| Okay. We'll get the money together. | |
| Don't worry about it, Jerry. Now, | |
| d'you want anyone at home, with | |
| you, until they call? | |
| JERRY | |
| No, I - they don't want - they're | |
| just s'posed to be dealin' with me, | |
| they were real clear. | |
| STAN | |
| Yah. | |
| 44. | |
| Jerry pounds his mittened hands together against the cold. | |
| JERRY | |
| Ya know, they said no one listenin' | |
| in, they'll be watchin', ya know. | |
| Maybe it's all bull, but like you | |
| said, Stan, they're callin' the | |
| shots. | |
| STAN | |
| Okay. And Scotty, is he gonna be | |
| all right? | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, geez, Scotty. I'll go talk to | |
| him. | |
| There is a tap at the horn from Wade, and Stan gets into | |
| the Lincoln. | |
| STAN | |
| We'll call. | |
| The Lincoln spits snow as it grinds out of the lot and | |
| fishtails out onto the boulevard. | |
| 36 INT. SCOTTY'S BEDROOM 36 | |
| Scotty lies on the bed, weeping. Jerry enters and perches | |
| uncomfortably on the edge of his bed. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... How ya doin' there, Scotty? | |
| SCOTT | |
| Dad! What're they doing? Wuddya | |
| think they're doin' with Mom? | |
| JERRY | |
| It's okay, Scotty. They're not | |
| gonna want to hurt her any. These | |
| men, they just want money, see. | |
| SCOTT | |
| What if - what if sumpn goes wrong? | |
| JERRY | |
| No, no, nothin's goin' wrong here. | |
| Grandad and I, we're - we're makin' | |
| sure this gets handled right. | |
| Scott snorfles and sits up. | |
| 45. | |
| SCOTT | |
| Dad, I really think we should call | |
| the cops. | |
| JERRY | |
| No! We can't let anyone know about | |
| this thing! We gotta play ball with | |
| these guys - you ask Stan Grossman, | |
| he'll tell ya the same thing! | |
| SCOTT | |
| Yeah, but - | |
| JERRY | |
| We're gonna get Mom back for ya, | |
| but we gotta play ball. Ya know, | |
| that's the deal. Now if Lorraine | |
| calls, or Sylvia, you just say that | |
| Mom is in Florida with Pearl and | |
| Marty... | |
| Scotty starts to weep again. Jerry stares down at his lap. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... That's the best we can do here. | |
| 37 EXT. CABIN 37 | |
| It is a lakeside cabin surrounded by white. A brown Ciera | |
| with dealer plates is pulling into the drive. | |
| Grimsrud climbs out of the passenger seat as Carl climbs | |
| out of the driver's. Grimsrud opens the back door and, with | |
| an arm on her elbow, helps Jean out. She has her hands tied | |
| behind her and a black hood over her head. | |
| With a cry, she swings her elbow out of Grimsrud's grasp | |
| and lurches away across the front lawn. Grimsrud moves to | |
| retrieve her but Carl, grinning, lays a hand on his | |
| shoulder. | |
| CARL | |
| Hold it. | |
| They both look out at the front lawn, Grimsrud | |
| expressionless, Carl smiling. | |
| With muffled cries, the hooded woman lurches across the | |
| unbroken snow, staggering this way and that, stumbling on | |
| the uneven terrain. | |
| She stops, stands still, her hooded head swaying. | |
| 46. | |
| She lurches out in an arbitrary direction. Going downhill, | |
| she reels, staggers, and falls face-first into the snow, | |
| weeping. | |
| CARL | |
| Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Jesus! | |
| Grimsrud, still expressionless, breaks away from Carl's | |
| restraining hand to retrieve her. | |
| 38 INT. BRAINERD POLICE HEADQUARTERS 38 | |
| We track behind Marge as she makes her way across the | |
| floor, greeting various officers. She holds a small half- | |
| full paper sack. | |
| Beyond her we see a small glassed-in cubicle. Norm sits at | |
| the desk inside with a box lunch spread out in front of | |
| him. | |
| There is lettering on the cubicle's glass door: BRAINERD | |
| PD. CHIEF GUNDERSON. | |
| Marge enters and sits behind the desk, detaching her | |
| walkie-talkie from her utility belt to accommodate the | |
| seat. | |
| MARGE | |
| Hiya, hon. | |
| She slides the paper sack toward him. | |
| NORM | |
| Brought ya some lunch, Margie. | |
| What're those, night crawlers? | |
| He looks inside. | |
| The bottom of the sack is full of fat, crawling earthworms. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah. | |
| NORM | |
| Thanks, hon. | |
| MARGE | |
| You bet. Thanks for lunch. What do | |
| we got here, Arbie's? | |
| NORM | |
| Uh-huh. | |
| 47. | |
| She starts eating. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... How's the paintin' goin'? | |
| NORM | |
| Pretty good. Found out the Hautmans | |
| are entering a painting this year. | |
| MARGE | |
| Aw, hon, you're better'n them. | |
| NORM | |
| They're real good. | |
| MARGE | |
| They're good, Norm, but you're | |
| better'n them. | |
| NORM | |
| Yah, ya think? | |
| He leans over and kisses her. | |
| MARGE | |
| Ah, ya got Arbie's all o'er me. | |
| Lou enters. | |
| LOU | |
| Hiya, Norm, how's the paintin' | |
| goin'? | |
| NORM | |
| Not too bad. You know. | |
| MARGE | |
| How we doin' on that vehicle? | |
| LOU | |
| No motels registered any tan Ciera | |
| last night. But the night before, | |
| two men checked into the Blue Ox | |
| registering a Ciera and leavin' the | |
| tag space blank. | |
| MARGE | |
| Geez, that's a good lead. The Blue | |
| Ox, that's that trucker's joint out | |
| there on I-35? | |
| LOU | |
| 48. | |
| Yah. Owner was on the desk then, | |
| said these two guys had company. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, yah? | |
| 39 EXT. STRIPPER CLUB 39 | |
| Marge's prowler is parked in an otherwise empty lot. Snow | |
| drifts down. | |
| 40 INT. STRIPPER CLUB 40 | |
| Marge sits talking with two young women at one end of an | |
| elevated dance platform. The club, not yet open for | |
| business, is deserted. | |
| MARGE | |
| Where you girls from? | |
| HOOKER ONE | |
| Chaska. | |
| HOOKER TWO | |
| LeSeure. But I went to high school | |
| in White Bear Lake. | |
| MARGE | |
| Okay, I want you to tell me what | |
| these fellas looked like. | |
| HOOKER ONE | |
| Well, the little guy, he was kinda | |
| funny-looking. | |
| MARGE | |
| In what way? | |
| HOOKER ONE | |
| I dunno. Just funny-looking. | |
| MARGE | |
| Can you be any more specific? | |
| HOOKER ONE | |
| I couldn't really say. He wasn't | |
| circumcised. | |
| MARGE | |
| Was he funny-looking apart from | |
| that? | |
| 49. | |
| HOOKER ONE | |
| Yah. | |
| MARGE | |
| So you were having sex with the | |
| little fella, then? | |
| HOOKER ONE | |
| Uh-huh. | |
| MARGE | |
| Is there anything else you can tell | |
| me about him? | |
| HOOKER ONE | |
| No. Like I say, he was funny- | |
| looking. More'n most people even. | |
| MARGE | |
| And what about the other fella? | |
| HOOKER TWO | |
| He was a little older. Looked like | |
| the Marlboro man. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah? | |
| HOOKER TWO | |
| Yah. Maybe I'm sayin' that cause he | |
| smoked Marlboros. | |
| MARGE | |
| Uh-huh. | |
| HOOKER TWO | |
| A subconscious-type thing. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, that can happen. | |
| HOOKER TWO | |
| Yah. | |
| HOOKER ONE | |
| They said they were goin' to the | |
| Twin Cities? | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, yah? | |
| HOOKER TWO | |
| Yah. | |
| 50. | |
| HOOKER ONE | |
| Yah. Is that useful to ya? | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, you bet, yah. | |
| 41 EXT. LAKESIDE CABIN 41 | |
| It is now dusk. The brown Ciera with dealer plates still | |
| sits in the drive. | |
| 42 INT. CABIN 42 | |
| We track in on Jean Lundegaard, who sits tied in a chair | |
| with the black hood still over her head. As we track in, we | |
| hear inarticulate cursing, intermittent banging and loud | |
| static. | |
| We track in on Gaear Grimsrud, who sits smoking a cigarette | |
| and expressionlessly gazing offscreen. | |
| We track in on Carl Showalter, who stands over an old | |
| black-and-white television. It plays nothing but snow. Carl | |
| is banging on it as he mutters: | |
| CARL | |
| ...days ... be here for days with a | |
| - DAMMIT! - a goddamn mute ... | |
| nothin' to do ... and the fucking - | |
| DAMMIT!... | |
| Each "dammit" brings a pound of his fist on the TV. | |
| CARL | |
| ... TV doesn't even ... plug me in, | |
| man... Gimmee a - DAMMIT! - | |
| signal... Plug me into the ozone, | |
| baby... Plug me into the ozone - | |
| FUCK!... | |
| With one last bang we cut: | |
| BACK TO THE TELEVISION SET | |
| In extreme close-up an insect is lugging a worm. | |
| TV VOICE-OVER | |
| The bark beetle carries the worm to | |
| the nest ... where it will feed its | |
| young for up to six weeks... | |
| 51. | |
| A pull back from the screen reveals that we are in Marge's | |
| house. | |
| Marge and Norm are watching television in bed. From the TV | |
| we hear insects chirring. | |
| After a long beat, silence except for the TV, Marge | |
| murmurs, still looking at the set: | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Well, I'm turnin' in, Norm. | |
| Also looking at the TV: | |
| NORM | |
| ... Oh, yah? | |
| Marge rolls over and Norm continues to watch. | |
| We hold. | |
| BLACK | |
| Hold. | |
| A snowflake drops through the black. | |
| Another flake. | |
| It starts snowing. | |
| 43 EXT. BRAINERD MAIN STREET 43 | |
| The lone traffic light blinks slowly, steadily, red. Snow | |
| sifts down. There is no other movement. | |
| PAUL BUNYAN | |
| We are looking up at the bottom-lit statue. Snow falls. | |
| HIGH SHOT OF MARGE'S HOUSE | |
| Snow drops away. | |
| HIGH SHOT IN MARGE'S BEDROOM | |
| The bedroom is dark. Norm is snoring. | |
| The phone rings. | |
| Marge gropes in the dark. | |
| 52. | |
| MARGE | |
| Hello? | |
| VOICE | |
| Yah, is this Marge? | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah? | |
| VOICE | |
| Margie Olmstead? | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Well, yah. Who's this? | |
| VOICE | |
| This is Mike Yanagita. Ya know - | |
| Mike Yanagita. Remember me? | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Mike Yanagita! | |
| MIKE | |
| Yah! | |
| Marge props herself up next to the still-sleeping Norm. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, yah, course I remember. How | |
| are ya? What time is it? | |
| MIKE | |
| Oh, geez. It's quarter to eleven. I | |
| hope I dint wake you. | |
| MARGE | |
| No, that's okay. | |
| MIKE | |
| Yah, I'm down in the Twin Cities | |
| and I was just watching on TV about | |
| these shootings up in Brainderd, | |
| and I saw you on the news there. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah. | |
| MIKE | |
| I thought, geez, is that Margie | |
| Olmstead? I can't believe it! | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, that's me. | |
| 53. | |
| MIKE | |
| Well, how the heck are ya? | |
| MARGE | |
| Okay, ya know. Okay. | |
| MIKE | |
| Yah? | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah - how are you doon? | |
| MIKE | |
| Oh, pretty good. | |
| MARGE | |
| Heck, it's been such a long time, | |
| Mike. It's great to hear from ya. | |
| MIKE | |
| Yah... Yah, yah. Geeze, Margie! | |
| 44 INT. GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE 44 | |
| Jerry is on the sales floor, showing a customer a vehicle. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, ya got yer, this loaded here, | |
| this has yer independent, uh, yer | |
| slipped differential, uh, yer rack- | |
| and-pinion steering, yer alarm and | |
| radar, and I can give it to ya with | |
| a heck of a sealant, this TruCoat | |
| stuff, it'll keep the salt off - | |
| CUSTOMER | |
| Yah, I don't need no sealant | |
| though. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, you don't need that. Now were | |
| you thinking of financing here? You | |
| oughta be aware a this GMAC plan | |
| they have now, it's really super - | |
| ANOTHER SALESMAN | |
| Jerry, ya got a call here. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, okay. | |
| 54. | |
| 45 INT. JERRY'S CUBICLE 45 | |
| He sits in and picks up his phone. | |
| JERRY | |
| Jerry Lundegaard. | |
| VOICE | |
| All right, Jerry, you got this | |
| phone to yourself? | |
| JERRY | |
| Well ... yah. | |
| VOICE | |
| Know who this is? | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, yah, I got an idea. How's | |
| that Ciera workin' out for ya? | |
| VOICE | |
| Circumstances have changed, Jerry. | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, what do ya mean? | |
| VOICE | |
| Things have changed. Circumstances, | |
| Jerry. Beyond the, uh ... acts of | |
| God, force majeure... | |
| JERRY | |
| What the - how's Jean? | |
| A beat. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Who's Jean? | |
| JERRY | |
| My wife! What the - how's - | |
| CARL | |
| Oh, Jean's okay. But there's three | |
| people up in Brainerd who aren't so | |
| okay, I'll tell ya that. | |
| JERRY | |
| What the heck're you talkin' about? | |
| Let's just finish up this deal here | |
| - | |
| 55. | |
| CARL | |
| Blood has been shed, Jerry. | |
| Jerry sits dumbly. The voice solemnly repeats: | |
| CARL | |
| ... Blood has been shed. | |
| JERRY | |
| What the heck d'ya mean? | |
| CARL | |
| Three people. In Brainerd. | |
| JERRY | |
| Oh, geez. | |
| CARL | |
| That's right. And we need more | |
| money. | |
| JERRY | |
| The heck d'ya mean? What a you guys | |
| got yourself mixed up in? | |
| CARL | |
| We need more - | |
| JERRY | |
| This was s'posed to be a no-rough - | |
| stuff-type deal - | |
| CARL | |
| DON'T EVER INTERRUPT ME, JERRY! | |
| JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP! | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, I'm sorry, but I just - I - | |
| CARL | |
| Look. I'm not gonna debate you, | |
| Jerry. The price is now the whole | |
| amount. We want the entire eighty | |
| thousand. | |
| JERRY | |
| Oh, for Chrissakes here - | |
| CARL | |
| Blood has been shed. We've incurred | |
| risks, Jerry. I'm coming into town | |
| tomorrow. Have the money ready. | |
| 56. | |
| JERRY | |
| Now we had a deal here! A deal's a | |
| deal! | |
| CARL | |
| IS IT, JERRY? You ask those three | |
| pour souls up in Brainerd if a | |
| deal's a deal! Go ahead, ask 'em! | |
| JERRY | |
| ... The heck d'ya mean? | |
| CARL | |
| I'll see you tomorrow. | |
| Click. | |
| Jerry slams down the phone, which immediately rings. He | |
| angrily snatches it up. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah! | |
| VOICE | |
| Jerome Lundegaard? | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah! | |
| VOICE | |
| This is Reilly Deifenbach at GMAC. | |
| Sir, I have not yet recieved those | |
| vehicle IDs you promised me. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah! I ... those are in the mail. | |
| VOICE | |
| Mr. Lundegaard, that very well may | |
| be. I must inform you, however, | |
| that absent the reciept of those | |
| numbers by tomorrow afternoon, I | |
| will have to refer this matter to | |
| our legal department. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. | |
| VOICE | |
| My patience is at an end. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. | |
| 57. | |
| VOICE | |
| Good day, sir. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Yah. | |
| WIDE ON THE CUBICLE | |
| We are looking at Jerry's cubicle from across the showroom. | |
| Noise muted by distance, we watch Jerry slam down the | |
| reciever, rise to his feet, fling the phone to the floor, | |
| raise his desk blotter high over his head with pens and | |
| pencils rolling off it and slam it onto his desktop. | |
| He stands for a moment, hands on hips, glaring. | |
| He stoops and picks up the phone, places it back on the | |
| desktop, starts picking up the pens and pencils. | |
| TRACK | |
| On steam-table bins of food, each identified by a plaque: | |
| BEEF STROGANOFF, SWEDISH MEATBALLS, BROILED TORSK, CHICKEN | |
| FLORENTINE. | |
| A complementary track shows two rays being pushed along a | |
| buffet line, piled high with many foods. | |
| MARGE AND NORM AT A TABLE | |
| They sit next to each other at a long cafeteria-style | |
| Formica table, silently eating. | |
| A hip with a hissing walkie-talkie enters frame. | |
| GARY | |
| Hiya, Norm. How ya doin', Margie? | |
| How's the fricassee? | |
| MARGE | |
| Pretty darn good, ya want some? | |
| GARY | |
| No, I gotta - hey, Norm, I thought | |
| you were goin' fishin' up at Mile | |
| Lacs? | |
| NORM | |
| Yah, after lunch. | |
| He goes back to his food. | |
| 58. | |
| MARGE | |
| Whatcha got there? | |
| Gary hands her a flimsy. Marge takes it with one hand and | |
| looks, her other hand frozen with a forkful of food. | |
| GARY | |
| The numbers y'asked for, calls made | |
| from the lobby pay phone at the | |
| Blue Ox. Two to Minneapolis that | |
| night. | |
| MARGE | |
| Mm. | |
| GARY | |
| First one's a trucking company, | |
| second one's a private residence. A | |
| Shep Proudfoot. | |
| MARGE | |
| Uh-huh... A what? | |
| GARY | |
| Shep Proudfoot. That's a name. | |
| MARGE | |
| Uh-huh. | |
| GARY | |
| Yah. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Yah, okay, I think I'll drive | |
| down there, then. | |
| GARY | |
| Oh, yah? Twin Cities? | |
| Norm, who has been eating steadily throughout, looks over | |
| at Marge with mild interest. He stares for a beat as he | |
| finishes chewing, and them swallows and says: | |
| NORM | |
| ... Oh, yah? | |
| 46 INT. KITCHEN OF LUNDEGAARD HOUSE 46 | |
| Jerry, Wade, and Stan Grossman sit around the kitchen | |
| table. | |
| 59. | |
| It is night. The scene is harshly top lit by a hanging | |
| fixture. On the table are the remains of coffee and a | |
| cinnamon filbert ring. | |
| WADE | |
| Dammit! I wanna be a part a this | |
| thing! | |
| JERRY | |
| No, Wade! They were real clear! | |
| They said they'd call tomorrow, | |
| with instructions, and it's gonna | |
| be delivered by me alone! | |
| WADE | |
| It's my money, I'll deliver it - | |
| what do they care? | |
| STAN | |
| Wade's got a point there. I'll | |
| handle the call if you want, Jerry. | |
| JERRY | |
| No, no. See - they, no, see, they | |
| only deal with me. Ya feel this, | |
| this nervousness on the phone | |
| there, they're very - these guys're | |
| dangerous - | |
| WADE | |
| All the more reason! I don't want | |
| you - with all due respect, Jerry - | |
| I don't want you mucking this up. | |
| JERRY | |
| The heck d'ya mean? | |
| WADE | |
| They want my money, they can deal | |
| with me. Otherwise I'm goin' to a | |
| professional. | |
| He points at a briefcase. | |
| WADE | |
| ... There's a million dollars here! | |
| JERRY | |
| No, see - | |
| WADE | |
| 60. | |
| Look, Jerry, you're not sellin' me | |
| a damn car. It's my show here. | |
| That's that. | |
| STAN | |
| It's the way we prefer to handle | |
| it, Jerry. | |
| 47 INT. THE DOWNTOWN RADISSON HOTEL 47 | |
| Marge is at the reception desk. | |
| MARGE | |
| How ya doin'? | |
| CLERK | |
| Real good. How're you today, ma'am? | |
| MARGE | |
| Real good. I'm Mrs. Gunderson, I | |
| have a reservation. | |
| The clerk types into a computer console. | |
| CLERK | |
| You sure do, Mrs. Gunderson. | |
| MARGE | |
| Is there a phone down here, ya | |
| think? | |
| 48 INT. LOBBY CORNER 48 | |
| Marge is on a public phone. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Detective Sibert? Yah, this is | |
| Marge Gunderson from up Brainerd, | |
| we spoke - Yah. Well, actually I'm | |
| in town here. I had to do a few | |
| things in the Twin Cities, so I | |
| thought I'd check in with ya about | |
| that USIF search on Shep | |
| Proudfoot... Oh, yah?... Well, | |
| maybe I'll go visit with him if I | |
| have the... No, I can find that... | |
| Well, thanks a bunch. Say, d'ya | |
| happen to know a good place for | |
| lunch in the downtown area?... Yah, | |
| the Radisson... Oh, yah? Is it | |
| reasonable? | |
| 61. | |
| A GREEN FREEWAY SIGN | |
| Through a windshield we see a sign for the MINNEAPOLIS | |
| INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. | |
| 49 EXT. ROOFTOP PARKING LOT 49 | |
| The brown Ciera enters and drives lazy S-curves around the | |
| few snow-covered cars parked on the roof of the lot. | |
| It stops by one car and Carl emerges. He quickly scans the | |
| lot, then kneels in the snow at the back of the parked car | |
| and starts unscrewing its license plate. | |
| 50 EXT. BOOTH 50 | |
| Carl pulls up and hands the attendant his ticket. | |
| CARL | |
| Yeah, I decided not to park here. | |
| The attendant frowns uncomprehendingly at the ticket. | |
| ATTENDANT | |
| ... What do you mean, you decided | |
| not to park here? | |
| CARL | |
| Yeah, I just came in. I decided not | |
| to park here. | |
| The attendant is still puzzled. | |
| ATTENDANT | |
| You, uh... I'm sorry, sir, but - | |
| CARL | |
| I decided not to - I'm, uh, not | |
| taking the trip as it turns out. | |
| ATTENDANT | |
| I'm sorry, sir, we do have to | |
| charge you the four dollars. | |
| CARL | |
| I just pulled in here. I just | |
| fucking pulled in here! | |
| ATTENDANT | |
| 62. | |
| Well, see, there's a minimum charge | |
| of four dollars. Long-term parking | |
| charges by the day. | |
| A car behind beeps. Carl glances back, starts digging for | |
| money. | |
| CARL | |
| I guess you think, ya know, you're | |
| an authority figure. With that | |
| stupid fucking uniform. Huh, buddy? | |
| The attendant doesn't say anything. | |
| CARL | |
| ... King Clip-on Tie here. Big | |
| fucking man. | |
| He is peeling off one dollar bills. | |
| CARL | |
| ... You know, these are the limits | |
| of your life, man. Ruler of your | |
| little fucking gate here. There's | |
| your four dollars. You pathetic | |
| piece of shit. | |
| 51 INT. GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE 51 | |
| Jerry is staring up, mouth agape, at the underside of a car | |
| on a hydraulic lift. Bewildered, he looks about, then asks | |
| a mechanic passing by, his voice raised over the din of the | |
| shop. | |
| JERRY | |
| Where's Shep? | |
| The mechanic points. | |
| MECHANIC | |
| Talkin' to a cop. | |
| Jerry looks. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Cop? | |
| Marge and Shep face each other at the other end of the | |
| floor in a grimy and cluttered glassed-in cubicle. | |
| MECHANIC | |
| Said she was a policewoman. | |
| 63. | |
| Marge and Shep silently talk. | |
| Jerry stares, swallows. | |
| INSIDE THE CUBICLE | |
| MARGE | |
| - Wednesday night? | |
| Shep is shaking his head. | |
| SHEP | |
| Nope. | |
| MARGE | |
| Well, you do reside their at 1425 | |
| Fremont Terrace? | |
| SHEP | |
| Yep. | |
| MARGE | |
| Anyone else residing there? | |
| SHEP | |
| Nope. | |
| MARGE | |
| Well, Mr. Proudfoot, this call came | |
| in past three in the morning. It's | |
| just hard for me to believe you | |
| can't remember anyone calling. | |
| Shep says nothing. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Now, I know you've had some | |
| problems, struggling with the | |
| narcotics, some other | |
| entanglements, currently on parole | |
| - | |
| SHEP | |
| So? | |
| MARGE | |
| Well, associating with criminals, | |
| if you're the one they talked to, | |
| that right there would be a | |
| violation of your parole and would | |
| end with you back in Stillwater. | |
| SHEP | |
| 64. | |
| Uh-huh. | |
| MARGE | |
| Now, I saw some rough stuff on your | |
| priors, but nothing in the nature | |
| of a homicide... | |
| Shep stares at her. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... I know you don't want to be an | |
| accessory to something like that. | |
| SHEP | |
| Nope. | |
| MARGE | |
| So you think you might remember who | |
| those folks were who called ya? | |
| 52 INT. JERRY'S OFFICE 52 | |
| Jerry is worriedly pacing behind his desk. At a noise he | |
| looks up. | |
| Marge has stuck her head in the door. | |
| MARGE | |
| Mr. Lundegaard? | |
| JERRY | |
| Huh? Yah? | |
| MARGE | |
| I wonder if I could take just a | |
| minute of your time here - | |
| JERRY | |
| What... What is it all about? | |
| MARGE | |
| Huh? Do you mind if I sit down - | |
| I'm carrying quite a load here. | |
| Marge plops into the chair opposite him. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... You're the owner here, Mr. | |
| Lundegaard? | |
| JERRY | |
| Naw, I... Executive Sales Manager. | |
| 65. | |
| MARGE | |
| Well, you can help me. My name's | |
| Marge Gunderson - | |
| JERRY | |
| My father-in-law, he's the owner. | |
| MARGE | |
| Uh-huh. Well, I'm a police officer | |
| from up Brainerd investigating some | |
| malfeasance and I was just | |
| wondering if you've had any new | |
| vehicles stolen off the lot in the | |
| past couple of weeks - specifically | |
| a tan Cutlass Ciera? | |
| Jerry stares at her, his mouth open. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Mr. Lundegaard? | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Brainerd? | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah. Yah. Home a Paul Bunyan and | |
| Babe the Blue Ox. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Babe the Blue Ox? | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, ya know we've got the big | |
| statue there. So you haven't had | |
| any vehicles go missing, then? | |
| JERRY | |
| No. No, ma'am. | |
| MARGE | |
| Okey-dokey, thanks a bunch. I'll | |
| let you get back to your paperwork, | |
| then. | |
| As Marge rises, Jerry looks blankly down at the papers on | |
| the desk in front of him. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Yah, okay. | |
| He looks up at Marge's retreating back. He looks back down | |
| at the papers. He looks over at the phone. | |
| 66. | |
| he picks up the phone and dials four digits. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Yah, gimmee Shep... The heck | |
| d'ya mean?... Well, where'd he go? | |
| It's only... No, I don't need a | |
| mechanic - oh, geez - I gotta talk | |
| to a friend of his, so, uh ... have | |
| him, uh ... oh, geez... | |
| 53 INT. HOTEL BAR 53 | |
| Marge enters. She looks around the bar, a rather | |
| characterless, lowlit meeting place for business people. | |
| VOICE | |
| Marge? | |
| It is a bald, paunching man of about Marge's age, rising | |
| from a booth halfway back. His features are broad, | |
| friendly, Asian-American. | |
| MARGE | |
| Mike! | |
| He approaches somewhat carefully, as if on his second | |
| drink. | |
| They hug and head back toward the booth. | |
| MIKE | |
| Geez! You look great! | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah - easy there - you do too! I'm | |
| expecting, ya know. | |
| MIKE | |
| I see that! That's great! | |
| A waitress meets them at the table. | |
| MIKE | |
| ... What can I get ya? | |
| MARGE | |
| Just a Diet Coke. | |
| Again she glances about. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... This is a nice place. | |
| 67. | |
| MIKE | |
| Yah, ya know it's the Radisson, so | |
| it's pretty good. | |
| MARGE | |
| You're livin' in Edina, then? | |
| MIKE | |
| Oh, yah, couple years now. It's | |
| actually Eden Prarie - that school | |
| district. So Chief Gunderson, then! | |
| So ya went and married Norm Son-of- | |
| a-Gunderson! | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, yah, a long time ago. | |
| MIKE | |
| Great. What brings ya down - are ya | |
| down here on that homicide - if | |
| you're allowed, ya know, to discuss | |
| that? | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, yah, but there's not a heckuva | |
| lot to discuss. What about you, | |
| Mike? Are you married - you have | |
| kids? | |
| MIKE | |
| Well, yah, I was married. I was | |
| married to - You mind if I sit over | |
| here? | |
| He is sliding out of his side of the booth and easing in | |
| next to Marge. | |
| MIKE | |
| ... I was married to Linda Cooksey | |
| - | |
| MARGE | |
| No, I - Mike - wyncha sit over | |
| there, I'd prefer that. | |
| MIKE | |
| Huh? Oh, okay, I'm sorry. | |
| MARGE | |
| No, just so I can see ya, ya know. | |
| Don't have to turn my neck. | |
| MIKE | |
| 68. | |
| Oh, sure, I understand, I didn't | |
| mean to - | |
| MARGE | |
| No, no, that's fine. | |
| MIKE | |
| Yah, sorry, so I was married to | |
| Linda Cooksey - ya remember Linda? | |
| She was a year behind us. | |
| MARGE | |
| I think I remember Linda, yah. She | |
| was - yah. So things didn't work | |
| out, huh? | |
| MIKE | |
| And then I, and then I been workin' | |
| for Honeywell for a few years now. | |
| MARGE | |
| Well, they're a good outfit. | |
| MIKE | |
| Yah, if you're an engineer, yah, | |
| you could do a lot worse. Of | |
| course, it's not, uh, it's nothin' | |
| like your achievement. | |
| MARGE | |
| It sounds like you're doin' really | |
| super. | |
| MIKE | |
| Yah, well, I, uh ... it's not that | |
| it didn't work out - Linda passed | |
| away. She, uh... | |
| MARGE | |
| I'm sorry. | |
| MIKE | |
| Yah, I, uh... She had leukemia, you | |
| know... | |
| MARGE | |
| No, I didn't... | |
| MIKE | |
| It was a tough, uh ... it was a | |
| long - She fought real hard, | |
| Marge... | |
| 69. | |
| MARGE | |
| I'm sorry, Mike. | |
| MIKE | |
| Oh, ya know, that's, uh - what can | |
| I say?... | |
| He holds up his drink. | |
| MIKE | |
| ... Better times, huh? | |
| Marge clinks it. | |
| MARGE | |
| Better times. | |
| MIKE | |
| I was so... I been so ... and then | |
| I saw you on TV, and I remembered, | |
| ya know... I always liked you... | |
| MARGE | |
| Well, I always liked you, Mike. | |
| MIKE | |
| I always liked ya so much... | |
| MARGE | |
| It's okay, Mike - Should we get | |
| together another time, ya think? | |
| MIKE | |
| No - I'm sorry! It's just - I been | |
| so lonely - then I saw you, and... | |
| He is weeping. | |
| MIKE | |
| ... I'm sorry... I shouldn't a done | |
| this... I thought we'd have a | |
| really terrific time, and now | |
| I've... | |
| MARGE | |
| It's okay... | |
| MIKE | |
| You were such a super lady ... and | |
| then I... I been so lonely... | |
| MARGE | |
| It's okay, Mike... | |
| 70. | |
| 54 INT. CARLTON CELEBRITY ROOM 54 | |
| Carl Showalter is sitting at a small table with a tarty- | |
| looking blonde in a low-cut gown. Each holds a drink. | |
| CARL | |
| Just in town on business. Just in | |
| and out. Ha ha! A little of the old | |
| in-and-out! | |
| WOMAN | |
| Wuddya do? | |
| Carl looks around. | |
| CARL | |
| Have ya been to the Celebrity Room | |
| before? With other, uh, clients? | |
| WOMAN | |
| I don't think so. It's nice. | |
| CARL | |
| Yeah, well, it depends on the | |
| artist. You know, Jose Feliciano, | |
| ya got no complaints. Waiter! | |
| The reverse shows a disappearing waiter and the backs of | |
| many, many people sitting at tables between us and the very | |
| distant stage. Jose Feliciano, very small, performs on a | |
| spotlight stool. The acoustics are poor. | |
| Carl grimaces. | |
| CARL | |
| ... What is he, deaf?... So, uh, | |
| how long have you been with the | |
| escort service? | |
| WOMAN | |
| I don't know. Few munce. | |
| CARL | |
| Ya find the work interesting, do | |
| ya? | |
| WOMAN | |
| ... What're you talking about? | |
| 55 INT. A DIRTY BEDROOM 55 | |
| Carl is humping the escort. | |
| 71. | |
| We hear the door burst open. | |
| The escort is grabbed and flung out of bed. | |
| CARL | |
| Shep! What the hell are you doing? | |
| I'm banging that girl! Shep! Jesus | |
| Ch - | |
| Shep slaps him hard, forehand, backhand. | |
| SHEP | |
| Fuck out of my house! | |
| He hauls him up - | |
| CARL | |
| Shep! Don't you dare fucking hit | |
| me, man! Don't you - | |
| - punches him and flings him away. | |
| Carl hits a sofa and we see his bare legs disappear as he | |
| flips back over it. | |
| Shep enters frame to circle the sofa and kick at Carl | |
| behind it. | |
| SHEP | |
| Fuck outta here. Put me back in | |
| Stillwater. Little fucking shit. | |
| There is a knock at the door. | |
| VOICE | |
| Hey! Come on in there! | |
| Shep strides to the door, flings it open. | |
| A man in boxer shorts stands in the doorway. | |
| MAN | |
| C'mon, brother, it's late - Unghh! | |
| Shep hits him twice, then grabs both of his ears and starts | |
| banging his head against the wall. | |
| The hooker runs by, clutching her clothes, and Shep kicks | |
| her in the ass as she passes. | |
| He spins and goes back into the apartment. | |
| 72. | |
| Carl is hopping desperately into his pants. | |
| CARL | |
| Stay away from me, man! Hey! Smoke | |
| a fuckin' peace pipe, man! Don't | |
| you dare fuckin' - Unghh! | |
| After hitting him several times, Shep yanks Carl's belt out | |
| of his dangling pants and strangles him with it. Carl | |
| gurgles. Shep knees Carl repeatedly, then dumps him onto | |
| the floor and starts whipping him with the buckle end of | |
| the belt. | |
| 56 INT. CHAIN RESTAURANT PHONE BOOTH 56 | |
| Carl listens to the phone ring at the other end. His face | |
| is deeply bruised and cut. | |
| Finally, through the phone... | |
| VOICE | |
| ... Yah? | |
| CARL | |
| All right, Jerry, I'm through | |
| fucking around. You got the fucking | |
| money? | |
| 57 INT. JERRY'S KITCHEN 57 | |
| Jerry is at the kitchen phone. Through the door to the | |
| dining room we see Wade picking up an extension. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, I got the money, but, uh - | |
| CARL | |
| Don't you fucking but me, Jerry. I | |
| want you with this money on the | |
| Dayton-Radisson parking ramp, top | |
| level, thirty minutes, and we'll | |
| wrap this up. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, okay, but, uh - | |
| CARL | |
| 73. | |
| You're there in thirty minutes or I | |
| find you, Jerry, and I shoot you, | |
| and I shoot your fucking wife, and | |
| I shoot all your little fucking | |
| children, and I shoot 'em all in | |
| the back of their little fucking | |
| heads. Got it? | |
| JERRY | |
| ... Yah, well, you stay away from | |
| Scotty now - | |
| CARL | |
| GOT IT? | |
| JERRY | |
| Okay, real good, then. | |
| The line goes dead. | |
| A door slams offscreen. | |
| 58 EXT. HOUSE 58 | |
| Wade, briefcase in hand, gets into his Cadillac, slams the | |
| door and peels out. | |
| 59 INT. CAR 59 | |
| Wade's jaw works as he glares out at traffic. He mumbles to | |
| himself as he drives. | |
| WADE | |
| Okay ... here's your damn money, | |
| now where's my daughter?... Goddamn | |
| punk ... where's my damn | |
| daughter... | |
| He pulls out a gun, cracks the barrel, peers in. | |
| WADE | |
| ... You little punk. | |
| 60 INT. JERRY'S HOUSE 60 | |
| Jerry sits in the foyer, trying to pull on pair of | |
| galoshes. | |
| Scotty's voice comes from upstairs: | |
| 74. | |
| VOICE | |
| ... Dad? | |
| JERRY | |
| It's okay, Scotty. | |
| VOICE | |
| Where're you going? | |
| JERRY | |
| Be back in a minute. If Stan calls | |
| you, just tell him I went to | |
| Embers. Oh, geez - | |
| Thunk! - his first boot goes on. | |
| RADISSON | |
| Marge sits on the bed in her hotel room, shoes off, | |
| massaging her feet. The phone is pressed to her ear, and | |
| through it, we hear ringing. | |
| VOICE | |
| ... Hello? | |
| MARGE | |
| Norm? | |
| 61 EXT. MILLE LACS LAKE 61 | |
| It is late evening, blowing storm. A leisurely pan across | |
| the bleak gray expanse finds a little hut in the middle of | |
| the frozen lake with a pickup truck parked next to it. | |
| MARGE'S VOICE | |
| They bitin'? | |
| 62 INT. HUT 62 | |
| Norm has a cellular phone to his ear. His feet are | |
| stretched out to an electric heater. The interior is bathed | |
| in soft orange light. | |
| NORM | |
| Yah, okay. How's the hotel? | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, pretty good. They bitin'? | |
| NORM | |
| 75. | |
| Yeah, couple a muskies. No pike | |
| yet. How d'you feel? | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, fine. | |
| NORM | |
| Not on your feet too much? | |
| MARGE | |
| No, no. | |
| NORM | |
| You shouldn't be on your feet too | |
| much, you got weight you're not | |
| used too. How's the food down | |
| there? | |
| MARGE | |
| Had dinner at a place called the | |
| King's Table. Buffet style. It was | |
| pretty darn good. | |
| NORM | |
| Was it reasonable? | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, not too bad. So it's nice up | |
| there? | |
| NORM | |
| Yah, it's good. No pike yet, but | |
| it's good. | |
| 63 INT. DAYTON-RADISSON RAMP 63 | |
| The top, open, level. Snow blows. A car sits idling. | |
| Another car pulls onto the roof. It creeps over to the | |
| parked car and stops. It continues to idle as its door | |
| opens and Wade steps out, carrying the briefcase. | |
| The door of the other car bangs open and Carl bounces out. | |
| CARL | |
| Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck | |
| are you? | |
| WADE | |
| I got your goddamn money, you | |
| little punk. Now where's my | |
| daughter? | |
| 76. | |
| CARL | |
| I am through fucking around! Drop | |
| that fucking briefcase! | |
| WADE | |
| Where's my daughter? | |
| CARL | |
| Fuck you, man! Where's Jerry? I | |
| gave SIMPLE FUCKING INSTRUCTIONS - | |
| WADE | |
| Where's my damn daughter? No Jean, | |
| no money! | |
| CARL | |
| Drop that fucking money! | |
| WADE | |
| No Jean, no money! | |
| CARL | |
| Is this a fucking joke here? | |
| He pulls out a gun and fires into Wade's gut. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Is this a fucking joke? | |
| WADE | |
| Unghh ... oh, geez... | |
| He is on the pavement, clutching at his gut. Snow swirls. | |
| CARL | |
| You fucking imbeciles! | |
| He bends down next to Wade to pick up the briefcase. | |
| WADE | |
| Oh, for Christ ... oh, geez... | |
| Wade brings out his gun and fires at Carl's head, close by. | |
| CARL | |
| Oh! | |
| Carl stumbles and falls back, and then stands up again. His | |
| jaw is gouting blood. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Owwmm... | |
| 77. | |
| One hand pressed to his jaw, he fires down at Wade several | |
| times. Blood streams through the hand pressed to his jaw. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Mmmmmphnck! He fnkem shop me... | |
| He pockets the gun, picks up the briefcase one-handed, | |
| flings it into his car, gets in, peels out. | |
| 64 INT. DOWN RAMP 64 | |
| Carl screams down the ramp. He takes a corner at high speed | |
| and swerves, just missing Jerry in his Olds on his way to | |
| the top. | |
| 65 INT. JERRY'S CAR 65 | |
| Jerry recovers from the near miss and continues up. | |
| JERRY | |
| Oh, geez! | |
| EXIT BOOTH | |
| Carl squeals to a halt at the gate, still pressing his hand | |
| to his bleeding jaw. | |
| CARL | |
| Ophhem ma fuchem gaphe! | |
| ATTENDANT | |
| May I have your ticket, please? | |
| RAMP ROOF | |
| Jerry pulls to a halt next to Wade's idling Cadillac. He | |
| gets out and walks slowly to Wade's body, prostrate in the | |
| swirling snow. | |
| JERRY | |
| Oh! Oh, geez! | |
| He bends down, picks Wade up by the armpits and drags him | |
| over to the back of the Cadillac. He drops Wade's body, | |
| walks to the driver's side of the car, pulls the keys and | |
| walks back to pop the trunk. He wrestles Wade's body into | |
| the trunk, slams it shut and walks back to the scene of the | |
| shooting. | |
| He kicks at the snow with his galoshed feet, trying to hide | |
| the fresh bloodstains. | |
| 78. | |
| 66 EXT. BOOTH 66 | |
| Jerry approaches in the Cadillac. | |
| The wooden gate barring the exit has been broken away. The | |
| booth is empty. | |
| Jerry eases toward the street, looking over at the booth as | |
| he passes. | |
| Inside the booth we see the awkwardly angled leg of a | |
| prostrate body. | |
| 67 EXT. JERRY'S HOUSE 67 | |
| The car pulls into the driveway. | |
| 68 INT. FOYER 68 | |
| Jerry enters and sits on the foyer chair to take off his | |
| galoshes. | |
| SCOTT'S VOICE | |
| ... Dad? | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. | |
| SCOTT'S VOICE | |
| Stan Grossman called. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, okay. | |
| SCOTT'S VOICE | |
| Twice. | |
| JERRY | |
| Okay. | |
| SCOTT'S VOICE | |
| ... Is everything okay? | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah. | |
| Thoonk - the first boot comes off. | |
| SCOTT'S VOICE | |
| Are you calling Stan? | |
| 79. | |
| JERRY | |
| Well... I'm goin' ta bed now. | |
| 69 INT. CARL'S CAR 69 | |
| Carl mumbles as he drives, underlit by the dim dash lights, | |
| one hand now holding a piece of rag to his shredded jaw. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Fnnkn ashlzh... Fnk... | |
| ROAD | |
| Carl's car roars into frame, violently swirling the snow. | |
| Its red tail lights fishtail away. | |
| FADE OUT | |
| HOLD IN BLACK | |
| HARD CUT TO: BRIGHT - LOOKING THROUGH A WINDSHIELD | |
| It is a starky sunny day. We are cruising down a street of | |
| humble lookalike houses. | |
| We pan right as we draw toward one house in particular. In | |
| its driveway a man in a hooded parka shovels snow. He | |
| notices the approaching car and gives its driver a wave. | |
| The driver is Gary, the Brainderd police officer. He gives | |
| a finger-to-the-head salute and pulls over. | |
| 70 EXT. OUTSIDE 70 | |
| Gary slams his door shut and the other man plants his | |
| shovel in the snow. | |
| MAN | |
| How ya doin'? | |
| GARY | |
| Mr. Mohra? | |
| MAN | |
| Yah. | |
| GARY | |
| Officer Olson. | |
| 80. | |
| MAN | |
| Yah, right-o. | |
| The two men caucus the driveway without shaking hands and | |
| without standing particularly close. They stand stiffly, | |
| arms down at their sides and breath streaming out of their | |
| parka hoods. Each has an awkward leaning-away posture, head | |
| drawn slightly back and chin tucked in, to keep his face | |
| from protruding into the cold. | |
| MAN | |
| ... So, I'm tendin' bar there at | |
| Ecklund && Swedlin's last Tuesday | |
| and this little guy's drinkin' and | |
| he says, 'So where can a guy find | |
| some action - I'm goin' crazy down | |
| there at the lake.' And I says, | |
| 'What kinda action?' and he says, | |
| 'Woman action, what do I look | |
| like,' And I says 'Well, what do I | |
| look like, I don't arrange that | |
| kinda thing,' and he says, 'I'm | |
| goin' crazy out there at the lake' | |
| and I says, 'Well, this ain't that | |
| kinda place.' | |
| GARY | |
| Uh-huh. | |
| MAN | |
| So he says, 'So I get it, so you | |
| think I'm some kinda jerk for | |
| askin',' only he doesn't use the | |
| word jerk. | |
| GARY | |
| I unnerstand. | |
| MAN | |
| And then he calls me a jerk and | |
| says the last guy who thought he | |
| was a jerk was dead now. So I don't | |
| say nothin' and he says, 'What do | |
| ya think about that?' So I says, | |
| 'Well, that don't sound like too | |
| good a deal for him then.' | |
| GARY | |
| Ya got that right. | |
| MAN | |
| 81. | |
| And he says, 'Yah, that guy's dead | |
| and I don't mean a old age.' And | |
| then he says, 'Geez, I'm goin' | |
| crazy out there at the lake.' | |
| GARY | |
| White Bear Lake? | |
| MAN | |
| Well, Ecklund && Swedlin's, that's | |
| closer ta Moose Lake, so I made | |
| that assumption. | |
| GARY | |
| Oh sure. | |
| MAN | |
| So, ya know, he's drinkin', so I | |
| don't think a whole great deal of | |
| it, but Mrs. Mohra heard about the | |
| homicides out here and she thought | |
| I should call it in, so I called it | |
| in. End a story. | |
| GARY | |
| What'd this guy look like anyways? | |
| MAN | |
| Oh, he was a little guy, kinda | |
| funny-lookin'. | |
| GARY | |
| Uh-huh - in what way? | |
| MAN | |
| Just a general way. | |
| GARY | |
| Okay, well, thanks a bunch, Mr. | |
| Mohra. You're right, it's probably | |
| nothin', but thanks for callin' her | |
| in. | |
| MAN | |
| Oh sure. They say she's gonna turn | |
| cold tomorrow. | |
| GARY | |
| Yah, got a front movin' in. | |
| MAN | |
| Ya got that right. | |
| 82. | |
| CLOSE ON CARL SHOWALTER | |
| In his car, now parked, one hand holding the rag pressed to | |
| his mangled jaw. He is staring down at something in the | |
| front seat next to him. | |
| His other hand holds open the briefcase. It has money | |
| inside - a lot of money. | |
| Carl unfreezes, takes out one of the bank-wrapped wads and | |
| looks at it. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Mmmnphh. | |
| He paws through the money in the briefcase to get a feeling | |
| for the amount. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Jeshush Shrist... Jeshush | |
| fuchem Shrist! | |
| Excited, he counts out a bundle of bills and tosses it onto | |
| the back seat. | |
| He starts to take the rag away from his chin but the layer | |
| pressed against his face sticks, its loose weave bound to | |
| his skin by clotted blood. | |
| He pulls very gently and winces as blood starts to flow | |
| again. | |
| He carefully tears the rag in half so that only a bit of it | |
| remains adhering to his jaw. | |
| 71 EXT. CAR 71 | |
| It is pulled over to the side of an untraveled road. THe | |
| door opens and Carl emerges with the briefcase. | |
| He slogs through the snow, down a gulley and up the | |
| embankment to a barbed-wire fence. He kneels at one of the | |
| fence posts and frantically digs into the snow with his | |
| bare hands, throws in the briefcase and covers it back up. | |
| He stands and tries to beat the circulation back into his | |
| red, frozen hands. | |
| He looks to the right. | |
| A regular line of identical fence posts stretches away | |
| against unblemished white. | |
| 83. | |
| He looks to the left. | |
| A regular line of identical fence posts stretches away | |
| against unblemished white. | |
| He looks at the fence post in front of him. | |
| CARL | |
| Mmmphh... | |
| He looks about the snowy vastness for a marker. Finding | |
| none, he kicks the fence post a couple of times, failing to | |
| scar or tilt it, then hurriedly plants a couple of sicks up | |
| against the post. | |
| He bends down, scoops up a handful of snow, presses it | |
| against his wounded jaw, and lopes back to the idling car. | |
| 72 INT. HOTEL ROOM 72 | |
| Marge has a packed overnight back sitting on the unmade | |
| bed. | |
| She is ready to leave, already wearing her parka, but is on | |
| the phone. | |
| MARGE | |
| No, I'm leavin' this mornin', back | |
| up to Brainerd. | |
| VOICE | |
| Well, I'm sorry I won't see ya. | |
| MARGE | |
| Mm. But ya think he's all right? I | |
| saw him last night and he's - | |
| VOICE | |
| What'd he say? | |
| MARGE | |
| Well, it was nothin' specific he | |
| said, it just seemd like it all hit | |
| him really hard, his wife dyin' - | |
| VOICE | |
| His wife? | |
| MARGE | |
| Linda. | |
| VOICE | |
| 84. | |
| No. | |
| MARGE | |
| Linda Cooksey? | |
| VOICE | |
| No. No. No. They weren't - he, uh, | |
| he was bothering Linda for about, | |
| oh, for a good year. Really | |
| pestering her, wouldn't leave her | |
| alone. | |
| MARGE | |
| So ... they didn't... | |
| VOICE | |
| No. No. They never married. Mike's | |
| had psychiatric problems. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh. Oh, my. | |
| VOICE | |
| Yah, he - he's been struggling. | |
| He's living with his parents now. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh. Geez. | |
| VOICE | |
| Yah, Linda's fine. You should call | |
| her. | |
| MARGE | |
| Geez. Well - geez. That's a | |
| suprise. | |
| 73 INT. MARGE'S CAR 73 | |
| Marge drives, gazing out at the road. | |
| MARGE AT A DRIVE-THROUGH | |
| She leans out of her open window and yells at the order | |
| panel: | |
| MARGE | |
| Hello? | |
| MARGE AT THE GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE | |
| She sits in the lot, eating a breakfast sandwich. | |
| 85. | |
| 74 INT. JERRY LUNDEGAARD'S OFFICE 74 | |
| Jerry is at his desk using a blunt pencil to enter numbers | |
| onto a form. Beneath the form is a piece of carbon paper | |
| and beneath that another form copy, which Jerry | |
| periodically checks. The carbon-copy form shows thick | |
| smudgy, illegible entries. | |
| Jerry hums nervously. | |
| Glass rattles as someone taps at his door. | |
| Jerry looks up and freezes, mouth hanging open, brow knit | |
| with worry. | |
| Marge sticks her head in the door. | |
| MARGE | |
| Mr. Lundegaard? Sorry to bother you | |
| again. Can I come in? | |
| She starts to enter. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, no, I'm kinda - I'm kinda busy | |
| - | |
| MARGE | |
| I unnerstand. I'll keep it real | |
| short, then. I'm on my way out of | |
| town, but I was just - Do you mind | |
| if I sit down? I'm carrying a bit | |
| of a load here. | |
| JERRY | |
| No, I - | |
| But she is already sitting into the chair opposite with a | |
| sigh of relieved weight. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, it's this vehicle I asked you | |
| about yesterday. I was just | |
| wondering - | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, like I told ya, we haven't had | |
| any vehicles go missing. | |
| MARGE | |
| 86. | |
| Okay, are you sure, cause, I mean, | |
| how do you know? Because, see, the | |
| crime I'm investigating, the | |
| perpetrators were driving a car | |
| with dealer plates. And they called | |
| someone who works here, so it'd be | |
| quite a coincidence if they | |
| weren't, ya know, connected. | |
| JERRY | |
| Yah, I see. | |
| MARGE | |
| So how do you - have you done any | |
| kind of inventory recently? | |
| JERRY | |
| The car's not from our lot, ma'am. | |
| MARGE | |
| but do you know that for sure | |
| without - | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, I would know. I'm the | |
| Executive Sales Manager. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, but - | |
| JERRY | |
| We run a pretty tight ship here. | |
| MARGE | |
| I know, but - well, how do you | |
| establish that, sir? Are the cars, | |
| uh, counted daily or what kind of - | |
| JERRY | |
| Ma'am, I answered your question. | |
| There is a silent beat. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... I'm sorry, sir? | |
| JERRY | |
| Ma'am, I answered your question. I | |
| answered the darn - I'm cooperating | |
| here, and I... | |
| MARGE | |
| 87. | |
| Sir, you have no call to get snippy | |
| with me. I'm just doin' my job | |
| here. | |
| JERRY | |
| I'm not, uh, I'm not arguin' here. | |
| I'm cooperating... There's no, uh - | |
| we're doin' all we can... | |
| He trails off into silence. | |
| MARGE | |
| Sir, could I talk to Mr. Gustafson? | |
| Jerry stares at her. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Mr. Lundegaard? | |
| Jerry explodes: | |
| JERRY | |
| Well, heck, if you wanna, if you | |
| wanna play games here! I'm workin' | |
| with ya on this thing, but I... | |
| He is getting angrily off his feet. | |
| JERRY | |
| Okay, I'll do a damned lot count! | |
| MARGE | |
| Sir? Right now? | |
| JERRY | |
| Sure right now! You're darned | |
| tootin'! | |
| He is yanking his parka from a hook behind the opened door | |
| and grabbing a pair of galoshes. | |
| JERRY | |
| ... If it's so damned imporant to | |
| ya! | |
| MARGE | |
| I'm sorry, sir, I - | |
| Jerry has the parka slung over one arm and the galoshes | |
| pinched in his hand. | |
| JERRY | |
| Aw, what the Christ! | |
| 88. | |
| He stamps out the door. | |
| Marge stares. | |
| After a long moment her stare breaks. She glances idly | |
| around the office. | |
| There is a framed picture facing away from her on the | |
| desktop. She turns it to face her. It is Scotty, holding an | |
| accordion. There is another picture of Jean. | |
| Marge looks at it, looks around, for some reason, at the | |
| ceiling. | |
| She looks at a trophy shelf on the wall behind her. | |
| She fiddles idly with a pencil. She pulls a clipboard | |
| toward her. It holds a form from the General Motors Finance | |
| Corporation. | |
| She looks idly around. Her look abruptly locks. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Oh, for Pete's sake. | |
| Jerry is easing his car around the near corner of the | |
| building. | |
| Marge's voice is flat with dismay: | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Oh, for Pete's sake... | |
| She grabs the phone and punches in a number. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... For Pete's s- he's fleein' the | |
| interview. He's feelin' the | |
| interview... | |
| Jerry makes a left turn into traffic. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Detective Sibert, please... | |
| POLICE OFFICER | |
| We are looking across a steam table at a man in blue. He | |
| moves slowly to the right, pushing his tray along a | |
| cafeteria line. Behind him, in the depth of the room, is an | |
| eating area of long Formica tables at which sit a mix of | |
| uniformed and civilian-clothed police and staff. | |
| 89. | |
| We are listening to an offscreen woman's voice. | |
| WOMAN | |
| Well, so far we're just saying he's | |
| wanted for questioning in | |
| connection with a triple homicide. | |
| Nobody at the dealship there's been | |
| much help guessing where he might | |
| go... | |
| The woman is entering frame sliding a tray. Marge enters | |
| behind her, sliding her own. We move laterally with them as | |
| they slowly make their way along the line. | |
| MARGE | |
| Uh-huh. | |
| WOMAN | |
| We called his house; his little boy | |
| said he hadn't been there. | |
| MARGE | |
| And his wife? | |
| WOMAN | |
| She's visiting relatives in | |
| Florida. Now his boss, this guy | |
| Gustafson, he's also disappeared. | |
| Nobody at his office knows where he | |
| is. | |
| MARGE | |
| Geez. Looks like this thing goes | |
| higher than we thought. You call | |
| his home? | |
| WOMAN | |
| His wife's in the hospital, has | |
| been for a couple months. The big | |
| C. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, my. | |
| WOMAN | |
| And this Shep Proudfoot character, | |
| he's a little darling. He's now | |
| wanted for assault and parole | |
| violation. He clobbered a neighbor | |
| of his last night and another | |
| person who could be one of your | |
| perps, and he's at large. | |
| 90. | |
| MARGE | |
| Boy, this thing is really ... geez. | |
| WOMAN | |
| Well, they're all out on the wire. | |
| Well, you know... | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah. Well, I just can't thank you | |
| enough, Detective Sibert, this | |
| cooperation has been outstanding. | |
| DETECTIVE SIBERT | |
| Ah, well, we haven't had to run | |
| around like you. When're you due? | |
| MARGE | |
| End a April. | |
| DETECTIVE SIBERT | |
| Any others? | |
| MARGE | |
| This'll be our first. We've been | |
| waiting a long time. | |
| DETECTIVE SIBERT | |
| That's wonderful. Mm-mm. It'll | |
| change your life, a course. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, yah, I know that! | |
| DETECTIVE SIBERT | |
| They can really take over, that's | |
| for sure. | |
| MARGE | |
| You have children? | |
| Detective Sibert pulls an accordion of plastic picture | |
| sleeves from her purse to show Marge. | |
| DETECTIVE SIBERT | |
| I thought you'd never ask. The | |
| older one is Janet, she's nine, and | |
| the younger one is Morgan. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, now he's adorable. | |
| DETECTIVE SIBERT | |
| 91. | |
| He's three now. Course, not in that | |
| picture. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, he's adorable. | |
| DETECTIVE SIBERT | |
| Yah, he - | |
| MARGE | |
| Where'd you get him that parka? | |
| They have reached the end of the cafeteria line. With a nod | |
| to the cashier, Detective Sibert indicates hers and Marge's | |
| trays. | |
| DETECTIVE SIBERT | |
| Both of these. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, no, I can't let you do that. | |
| DETECTIVE SIBERT | |
| Oh, don't be silly. | |
| MARGE | |
| Well, okay - thank you, Detective. | |
| DETECTIVE SIBERT | |
| Oh, don't be silly. | |
| GAEAR GRIMSRUD | |
| He sits eating a Swanson's TV dinner from a TV tray he has | |
| set up in front of an easy chair. | |
| He watches the old black-and-white TV set whose image - it | |
| might be a game show - is still heavily ghosting and | |
| diffused by snow. The audio crackles with interference. | |
| Despite the impenetrability of its image, it holds | |
| Grimsrud's complete attention. | |
| At the sound of the front door opening, Grimsrud looks up. | |
| Carl enters, his face suppurating and raw. | |
| He reacts to Grimsrud's wordless look with a grotesque | |
| laugh. | |
| CARL | |
| You should she zhe uzher guy! | |
| 92. | |
| He glances around. | |
| CARL | |
| ... The fuck happen a her? | |
| Jean sits slumped in a straight-backed chair facing the | |
| wall. Her hooded head, resting on her chin, is motionless. | |
| There is blood on the facing wall. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| She started shrieking, you know. | |
| CARL | |
| Jezhush. | |
| He shakes his head. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Well, I gotta muddy. | |
| He is plunking down eight bank-wrapped bundles on the | |
| table. | |
| CARL | |
| ... All of it. All eighty gran. | |
| Forty for you... | |
| He makes one pile, pockets the rest. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Forty for me. Sho thishuzh it. | |
| Adiosh. | |
| He slaps keys down on the table. | |
| CARL | |
| ... You c'n'ave my truck. I'm | |
| takin' a Shiera. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| We split that. | |
| Carl looks at him. | |
| CARL | |
| HOW THE FUCK DO WE SHPLITTA FUCKIN' | |
| CAR? Ya dummy! Widda fuckin' | |
| chainshaw? | |
| Grimsrud looks sourly up. There is a beat. Finally: | |
| 93. | |
| GRIMSRUD | |
| One of us pays the other for half. | |
| CARL | |
| HOLD ON! NO FUCKIN' WAY! YOU | |
| FUCKIN' NOTISH ISH? I GOT FUCKIN' | |
| SHOT INNA FAISH! I WENT'N GOTTA | |
| FUCKIN' MONEY! I GET SHOT FUCKIN' | |
| PICKIN' IT UP! I BEEN UP FOR | |
| THIRTY-SHIKSH FUCKIN' HOURZH! I'M | |
| TAKIN' THAT FUCKIN' CAR! THAT | |
| FUCKERZH MINE! | |
| Carl waits for an argument, but only gets the steady sour | |
| look. | |
| Carl pulls out a gun. | |
| CARL | |
| ... YOU FUCKIN' ASH-HOLE! I LISHEN | |
| A YOUR BULLSHIT FOR A WHOLE FUCKIN' | |
| WEEK! | |
| A beat. Carl returns Grimsrud's stare. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Are we shquare? | |
| Grimsrud says nothing. | |
| CARL | |
| ... ARE WE SHQUARE? | |
| A beat. | |
| Disgusted, Carl pockets the gun and heads for the door. | |
| CARL | |
| ... Fuckin' ash-hole. And if you | |
| shee your friend Shep Proudpfut, | |
| tell him I'm gonna NAIL hizh | |
| fuckin' ash. | |
| 75 EXT. OUTSIDE 75 | |
| We are pulling Carl as he walks toward the car. Behind him | |
| we see the cabin door opening. Carl turns, reacting to the | |
| sound. | |
| Grimsrud is bounding out wearing mittens and a red hunter's | |
| cap, but no overcoat. He is holding an ax. | |
| 94. | |
| Carl fumbles in his pocket for his gun. | |
| Grimsrud swings overhand, burying the ax in Carl's neck. | |
| MARGE | |
| In her cruiser, on her two-way. Through it we hear Lou's | |
| voice, heavily filtered: | |
| VOICE | |
| His wife. This guy says she was | |
| kidnapped last Wednesday. | |
| MARGE | |
| The day of our homicides. | |
| VOICE | |
| Yah. | |
| Marge is peering to one side as she drives, looking through | |
| the bare trees that border the road on a declivity that | |
| runs down to a large frozen lake. | |
| MARGE | |
| And this guy is... | |
| VOICE | |
| Lundegaard's father-in-law's | |
| accountant. | |
| MARGE | |
| Gustafson's accountant. | |
| VOICE | |
| Yah. | |
| MARGE | |
| But we still haven't found | |
| Gustafson. | |
| VOICE | |
| (crackle) | |
| - looking. | |
| MARGE | |
| Sorry - didn't copy. | |
| VOICE | |
| Still missing. We're looking. | |
| MARGE | |
| Copy. And Lundegaard too. | |
| 95. | |
| VOICE | |
| Yah. Where are ya, Margie? | |
| We hear, distant but growing louder, harsh engine noise, as | |
| of a chainsaw or lawnmower. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, I'm almost back - I'm driving | |
| around Moose Lake. | |
| VOICE | |
| Oh. Gary's loudmouth. | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, the loudmouth. So the whole | |
| state has it, Lundegaard and | |
| Gustafson? | |
| VOICE | |
| Yah, it's over the wire, it's | |
| everywhere, they'll find 'em. | |
| MARGE | |
| Copy. | |
| VOICE | |
| We've got a - | |
| MARGE | |
| There's the car! There's the car! | |
| We are slowing as we approach a short driveway leading down | |
| to a cabin. Parked in front is the brown Cutlass Ciera. | |
| VOICE | |
| Whose car? | |
| MARGE | |
| My car! My car! Tan Ciera! | |
| VOICE | |
| Don't go in! Wait for back-up! | |
| Marge is straining to look. The power-tool noise is louder | |
| here but still muffled, its source not yet visible. | |
| VOICE | |
| ... Chief Gunderson? | |
| MARGE | |
| Copy. Yah, send me back-up! | |
| VOICE | |
| 96. | |
| Yes, ma'am. Are we the closest PD? | |
| MARGE | |
| Yah, Menominie only has Chief | |
| Perpich and he takes February off | |
| to go to Boundary Waters. | |
| 76 EXT. ROAD EXTERIOR 76 | |
| Marge pulls her prowler over some distance past the cabin. | |
| She gets out, zips up her khaki parka and pulls up its fur- | |
| lined hood. | |
| For a moment, she stands listening to the muffled roar of | |
| the power tool. Then, with one curved arm half pressing | |
| against, half supporting her belly, she takes slow, | |
| gingerly steps down the slope, through the deep snow, | |
| through the trees angling toward the cabin and the source | |
| of the grinding noise. | |
| She slogs from tree to tree, letting each one support her | |
| downhill-leaning weight for a moment before slogging to the | |
| next. | |
| The roar grows louder. Marge stands panting by one tree, | |
| her breath vaporizing out of her snorkel hood. She squints | |
| down toward the cabin's back lot. | |
| A tall man with his back to us, wearing a red plaid quilted | |
| jacket and a hunting cap with earflaps, is laboring over a | |
| large power tool which his body blocks from view. | |
| Marge advances. | |
| The man is forcing downward something which engages the | |
| roaring power tool and makes harsh spluttering noises. | |
| The man is Grimsrud, his nose red and eyes watering from | |
| the cold, hatflaps pulled down over his ears. His breath | |
| steams as he sourly goes about his work, both hands | |
| pressing down a shod foot, as it if were the shaft of a | |
| butter churn. | |
| The roar is very loud. | |
| Marge slogs down to the next tree, panting, looking. | |
| Grimsrud forces more of the leg into the machine, which we | |
| can now see sprays small wet chunks out the bottom. | |
| Marge's eyes shift. | |
| 97. | |
| A large dark form lies in the snow next to Grimsrud. | |
| Grimsrud works on, eyes watering. With a grunt he bends | |
| down out of frame and then re-enters holding a thick log. | |
| He uses it to force the leg deeper into the machine. | |
| Marge is advancing. She holds a gun extended toward | |
| Grimsrud, who is still turned away. | |
| Grimsrud rubs his nose with the back of his hand. | |
| Marge closes in, grimacing. | |
| Grimsrud's back strains as he puts his weight into the log | |
| that pushes down into the machine. | |
| The dark shape in the snow next to his side is the rest of | |
| Carl Showalter's body. | |
| Marge has drawn to within twenty yards. When she bellows it | |
| sounds hollow and distant, her voice all but eaten up by | |
| the roar of the power tool. | |
| MARGE | |
| Stop! Police! Turn around and hands | |
| up! | |
| Startled, Grimsrud scowls. He turns to face her. | |
| He stares. | |
| Marge bellows again: | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Hands up! | |
| Conscious of the noise, she shows with a twist of her | |
| shoulder the armpatch insignia. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Police! | |
| Grimsrud stares. | |
| With a quick twist, he reaches back for the log, hurls it | |
| at Marge and then starts running away. | |
| Marge twists her body sideways, shielding herself. | |
| No need - the heavy log travels perhaps ten yards and lands | |
| in the snow several feet short of her. | |
| 98. | |
| Grimsrud pants up the hill - slow going through the deep | |
| snow. | |
| Behind him: | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Halt! | |
| She fires in the air. | |
| She lowers the gun and carefully sighs. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Halt! | |
| She fires. | |
| Grimsrud still slogs up the hill - a miss. | |
| Marge sights again. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Halt! | |
| She fires again. | |
| Grimsrud pitches forward. He mutters in Swedish as he | |
| reaches down to clutch at his wounded leg. | |
| Marge walks toward him, gun trained on him as her other | |
| hand reaches under her parka and gropes around her waist. | |
| It comes out with a pair of handcuffs, which she opens with | |
| a snap of the wrist. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... All right, buddy. On your belly | |
| and your hands clasped behind you. | |
| THE CRUISER | |
| Marge drives. Grimsrud sits in the back seat, hands cuffed | |
| behind him. | |
| For a long moment there, he is quiet - only engine hum and | |
| the periodic clomp of wheels on pavement seams - as Marge | |
| grimly shakes her head. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... So that was Mrs. Lundegaard in | |
| there? | |
| 99. | |
| She glances up in the rear-view mirror. | |
| Grimsrud, cheeks sunk, eyes hollow, looks sourly out at the | |
| road. | |
| Marge shakes her head. | |
| At length: | |
| MARGE | |
| ... I guess that was your | |
| accomplice in the wood chipper. | |
| Grimsrud's head bobs with bumps on the road; otherwise he | |
| is motionless, reactionless, scowling and gazing out. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... And those three people in | |
| Brainerd. | |
| No response. | |
| Marge, gazing forward, seems to be talking to herself. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... And for what? For a little bit | |
| of money. | |
| We hear distant sirens. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... There's more to life than | |
| money, you know. | |
| She glances up in the rear-view mirror. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Don't you know that?... And | |
| here ya are, and it's a beautiful | |
| day... | |
| Grimsrud's hollow eyes stare out. | |
| The sirens are getting louder. Marge pulls over. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... Well... | |
| She leans forward to the dash to give two short signalling | |
| WHOOPS on her siren. | |
| She turns on her flashers. | |
| 100. | |
| She leans back with a creak and jangle of utilities. | |
| She stares forward, shakes her head. We hear the dull click | |
| of her flashers. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... I just don't unnerstand it. | |
| Outside it is snowing. The sky, the earth, the road - all | |
| white. | |
| A squad car, gumballs spinning, punches through the white. | |
| It approaches in slow motion. | |
| An ambulance punches through after it. | |
| Another squad car. | |
| FADE OUT: | |
| FADE IN: | |
| HIGH AND WIDE ON A SHABBY MOTEL | |
| It stands next to a highway on a snowy, windslept plain. | |
| One or two cars dot the parking lot along with an idling | |
| police cruiser. | |
| 77 INT. MOTEL ROOM DOORWAY 77 | |
| We are looking over the shoulders of two uniformed | |
| policemen who stand on either side of the door, their hands | |
| resting lightly on their holstered sidearms. One of them | |
| raps at the door. | |
| COP ONE | |
| Mr. Anderson... | |
| A title fades in: OUTSIDE OF BISMARK, NORTH DAKOTA | |
| After a pause, muffled through the door: | |
| VOICE | |
| ... Who?... | |
| COP ONE | |
| Mr. Anderson, is this your burgundy | |
| 88 out here? | |
| 101. | |
| VOICE | |
| ... Just a sec. | |
| COP ONE | |
| Could you open the door, please? | |
| VOICE | |
| ... Yah. Yah, just a sec. | |
| We hear a clatter from inside. | |
| VOICE | |
| ... Just a sec... | |
| One of the policemen unholsters his gun and nods to someone | |
| whose back enters - a superintendent holding a ring of | |
| keys. | |
| This man turns a key in the door and then stands away. | |
| The two policemen, guns at the ready, bang into the motel | |
| room. | |
| The rough hand-held camera rushes in behind them as the two | |
| men give the room a two-handed sweep with their guns. | |
| The room is empty. | |
| Cop one indicates the open bathroom door. | |
| COP ONE | |
| Dale! | |
| The two men charge the bathroom, belts jingling, guns at | |
| the ready, jittery camera behind them rushing to keep pace. | |
| A man in boxer shorts is halfway out the bathroom window. | |
| The policemen holster their guns and charge the window, and | |
| drag Jerry Lundegaard back into the room. | |
| His flesh quivers as he thrashes and keens in short, | |
| piercing screams. | |
| The cops wrestle him to the floor but his palsied thrashing | |
| continues. The policemen struggle to restrain him. | |
| COP ONE | |
| Call an ambulance! | |
| COP TWO | |
| You got him okay? | |
| 102. | |
| Cop One pinions Jerry's arms to the floor and Jerry bursts | |
| into uncontrolled sobbing. | |
| COP ONE | |
| Yah, yah, call an ambulance. | |
| Jerry sobs and screams. | |
| 78 INT. A BEDROOM 78 | |
| We are square on Norm, who sits in bed watching television. | |
| After a long beat, Marge enters frame in a nightie and | |
| climbs into bed, with some effort. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oooph! | |
| Norm reaches for her hand as both watch the television. | |
| At length Norm speaks, but keeps his eyes on the TV. | |
| NORM | |
| They announced it. | |
| Marge looks at him. | |
| MARGE | |
| They announced it? | |
| NORM | |
| Yah. | |
| Marge looks at him, waiting for more, but Norm's eyes stay | |
| fixed on the television. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... So? | |
| NORM | |
| Three-cent stamp. | |
| MARGE | |
| Your mallard? | |
| NORM | |
| Yah. | |
| MARGE | |
| Norm, that's terrific! | |
| 103. | |
| Norm tries to suppress a smile of pleasure. | |
| NORM | |
| It's just the three cent. | |
| MARGE | |
| It's terrific! | |
| NORM | |
| Hautman's blue-winged teal got the | |
| twenty-nine cent. People don't much | |
| use the three-cent. | |
| MARGE | |
| Oh, for Pete's - a course they do! | |
| Every time they raise the darned | |
| postage, people need the little | |
| stamps! | |
| NORM | |
| Yah. | |
| MARGE | |
| When they're stuck with a bunch a | |
| the old ones! | |
| NORM | |
| Yah, I guess. | |
| MARGE | |
| That's terrific. | |
| Her eyes go back to the TV. | |
| MARGE | |
| ... I'm so proud a you, Norm. | |
| Norm murmurs: | |
| NORM | |
| I love you, Margie. | |
| MARGE | |
| I love you, Norm. | |
| Both of them are watching the TV as Norm reaches out to | |
| rest a hand on top of her stomach. | |
| NORM | |
| ... Two more months. | |
| Marge absently rests her own hand on top of his. | |
| 104. | |
| MARGE | |
| Two more months. | |
| Hold. | |
| FADE OUT: | |