Scripts: Rear Window (final draft, 01/Dec/1953) - part 2
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT The salesman looks toward the bedroom door, hesitates, then reluctantly walks toward it. For a moment he is hidden by the wall. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP Jeff shifts his look more to the right. EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT The man enters the bedroom. We can see a woman lying on the far bed. Near her, a small table is covered with medicine bottles, spoons, boxes of pills, a water pitcher and the other impedimenta of the chronically ill. The woman sits up as the man enters. She takes a wet cloth off her forehead. Before the man even reaches her, she begins talking, somewhat vigorously. Pointing to a wristwatch, she seems to be saying something such as "You should have been home two hours ago! I could be lying here dying for all you'd know -- or care!" The man stops short of the bed, makes gestures of trying to placate her, but she goes on scolding. His attitude changes to weary patience, then irritation, then anger. He shouts back at her, turns and goes out of the room. Back in the living room, he picks up his hat, throws it against the wall in anger, and leaves the apartment, slamming the door behind him. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - MEDIUM SHOT Jeff's attention is suddenly diverted to himself. His leg, under the cast, begins itching. He squirms, tries to move the leg a little. It gives no relief. He scratches the outside of the cast, but the itch gets worse. He reaches for a long, Chinese back scratcher lying on the windowsill. Carefully, and with considerable ingenuity, he works it under the cast. He scratches, and a look of sublime relief comes over his face. Satisfied, he takes the scratcher out. As he replaces it on the windowsill, his attention is drawn back to the scene outside the window. EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT We see the man who left his apartment in anger come out of the doorway into the backyard. He is easy to identify through the color of his garish necktie. In one hand the man carries a small garden hoe and rake, and in the other a pair of trimming shears. He goes to a small patch of flowers, perhaps three feet square. They are beautiful, multi-colored three foot high zinnias. He kneels down, inspects them, touches them affectionately and with some pride. His anger seems to have left him, replaced by the kind of peace that flowers bring many people. He stands up, carefully hoes the ground, them rakes it. Then he snips a few leaves off the lower parts of the plant. Finally, he waters them. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP Jeff's attention is turned to something else of interest. EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT Into the next door yard we see emerging from the apartment below the ballet dancer, the elderly lady. She wear a broad sun hat, dark glasses, and a sunsuit consisting of pink shorts and halter. She carries a copy of the Herald Tribune, and still wears her hearing aid. She settles into a folding, canvas deck chair. Her skin is dead white, and her body is thin to the point of emaciation. No sooner has she settled into her chair, than she is attracted by the sound of the salesman working in his garden. She gets up, walks to the fence, and looks over. He notices her, but doesn't speak. She begins gesturing to him how to take care of his flowers. He listens for a moment, then looks directly at her. The strong movements of his mouth show us that he objects vigorously to the annoyance of her comments. She moves away from the fence, started and a little shocked. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - MEDIUM SHOT Jeff is seated in the foreground, in a waist shot. Behind him, the entrance door to his apartment opens. STELLA McGAFFERY comes in. She is a husky, unhandsome, dark- haired woman who is dressed like a district nurse, with dark coat, dark felt hat, with a white uniform showing underneath the coat. She carries a small black bag. Stella pauses on the landing to watch Jeff. He doesn't appear to notice her entrance. STELLA (Loud) The New York State sentence for a peeping Tom is six months in the workhouse! He doesn't turn. JEFF Hello Stella. As she comes down the stairs of the landing, holding on the wrought iron railing with one hand: STELLA And there aren't any windows in the workhouse. She puts her bag down on a table. It is worn, and looks as if it belongs more to a fighter than a nurse. She takes off her hat coat, and hangs them on a chair. STELLA Years ago, they used to put out your eyes with a hot poker. Is one of those bikini bombshells you always watch worth a hot poker? He doesn't answer. She opens the bag, takes out some medical supplies: a thermometer, a stop watch, a bottle of rubbing oil, a can of powder, a towel. She talks as she works. STELLA We've grown to be a race of peeping Toms. What people should do is stand outside their own houses and look in once in a while. (She looks up at him) What do you think of that for homespun philosophy? A look at his face shows he doesn't think much of it. JEFF Readers' Digest, April, 1939. STELLA Well, I only quote from the best. She takes the thermometer out of its case, shakes it down. Looks at it. Satisfied, she walks to Jeff. She swings the wheelchair around abruptly to face her. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - MEDIUM SHOT Jeff starts to protest. JEFF Now look, Stella -- She shoves the thermometer into his mouth. STELLA See it you can break a hundred. As she leaves him holding the thermometer THE CAMERA PULLS BACK as she crosses to a divan. She takes a sheet from underneath, and covers the divan with it. Talking, all the time. STELLA I shoulda been a Gypsy fortune teller, instead of an insurance company nurse. I got a nose for trouble -- can smell it ten miles away. (Stops, looks at him) You heard of the stock market crash in '29? Jeff nods a bored "yes." STELLA I predicted it. JEFF (Around thermometer) How? INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP Stella stops for a moment, and looks at Jeff challengingly. STELLA Simple. I was nursing a director of General Motors. Kidney ailment they said. Nerves, I said. Then I asked myself -- what's General Motors got to be nervous about? (Snaps her fingers) Overproduction. Collapse, I answered. When General Motors has to go to the bathroom ten times a day -- the whole country's ready to let go. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP A patient, suffering look comes over his face. He takes out the thermometer. JEFF Stella -- in economics, a kidney ailment has no relationship to the stock market. Absolutely none. STELLA It crashed, didn't it? Jeff has no answer. Defeated, he puts the thermometer back into his mouth. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP Stella goes on with her work. STELLA I can smell trouble right in this apartment. You broke your leg. You look out the window. You see things you shouldn't. Trouble. I can see you now, in front of the judge, flanked by lawyers in blue double- breasted suits. You're pleading, "Judge, it was only innocent fun. I love my neighbors like a father." -- The Judge answers, "Congratulations. You just gave birth to three years in Dannemora." THE CAMERA PANS HER over to him. She takes out the thermometer, looks at it. JEFF Right now I'd even welcome trouble. STELLA (Flatly) You've got a hormone deficiency. JEFF How can you tell that from a thermometer! STELLA Those sultry sun-worshipers you watch haven't raised your temperature one degree in four weeks. She gets down the thermometer. Sterilizes it with a piece of alcohol-soaked cotton in her other hand. She gets behind the wheelchair the CAMERA PULLS back as she pushes it over to the divan. She puts the thermometer away in its case. Then she helps him off with his pajama top. She helps him stand on one foot. He hops one step, then she lowers him, face down, on the divan. She gets a bottle of rubbing oil. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSE SHOT The CAMERA is very low at one end of the divan. Jeff's head, half-buried in the sheet, is large in the fore-ground. Beyond him Stella looms large and powerful-looking. JEFF I think you're right. There is going to be some trouble around here. Stella takes a handful of oil, slaps it on his back. He winces. STELLA I knew it! JEFF Don't you ever heat that stuff up. STELLA Gives your circulation something to fight. (Begins massaging his back) What kind of trouble? JEFF Lisa Fremont. STELLA You must be kidding. A beautiful young woman, and you a reasonably healthy specimen of manhood. JEFF She expects me to marry her. STELLA That's normal. JEFF I don't want to. STELLA (Slaps cold oils on him) That's abnormal. JEFF (Wincing) I'm not ready for marriage. STELLA Nonsense. A man is always ready for marriage -- with the right girl. And Lisa Fremont is the right girl for any man with half a brain, who can get one eye open. JEFF (Indifferent) She's all right. She hits him with some more cold oil. He winces again. STELLA Behind every ridiculous statement is always hidden the true cause. (Peers at him) What is it? You have a fight? JEFF No. STELLA (After a pause) Her father loading up the shotgun? JEFF Stella! STELLA It's happened before, you know! Some of the world's happiest marriage have started 'under the gun' you might say. JEFF She's just not the girl for me. STELLA She's only perfect. JEFF Too perfect. Too beautiful, too talented, too sophisticated, too everything -- but what I want. STELLA (Cautiously) Is what you want something you can discuss? Jeff gives an exasperated look. JEFF It's very simple. She belongs in that rarefied atmosphere of Park Avenue, expensive restaurants, and literary cocktail parties. STELLA People with sense can belong wherever they're put. JEFF Can you see her tramping around the world with a camera bum who never has more than a week's salary in the bank? (Almost to himself) If only she was ordinary. Stella sprinkles powder on his back, spreads it around. THE CAMERA PULLS BACK as she helps Jeff to a sitting position. He buttons on his shirt. STELLA You're never going to marry? JEFF Probably. But when I do, it'll be to someone who thinks of life as more than a new dress, a lobster dinner, and the latest scandal. I need a woman who'll go anywhere, do anything, and love it. THE CAMERA MOVES IN as she helps him into the wheelchair, listening to him with exaggerated attention. He, stops as he notice her attitude. Then he goes on with less conviction: JEFF The only honest thing to do is call it off. Let her look for somebody else. STELLA I can just hear you now. "Get out of here you perfect, wonderful woman! You're too good for me!" JEFF (After pause) That's the hard part. She swings him around in front of the window. He starts to look out. STELLA Look, Mr. Jefferies. I'm not educated. I'm not even sophisticated. But I can tell you this -- when a man and a woman see each other, and like each other -- they should come together -- wham like two taxies on Broadway. Not sit around studying each other like specimens in at bottle. JEFF There's an intelligent way to approach marriage. STELLA (Scoffing) Intelligence! Nothing has caused the human race more trouble. Modern marriage! Jeff swings his chair back to look at her. JEFF We've progressed emotionally in -- STELLA (Interrupting) Baloney! Once it was see somebody, get excited, get married -- Now, it's read books, fence with four syllable words, psychoanalyze each other until you can't tell a petting party from a civil service exam JEFF People have different emotional levels that -- STELLA (Interrupting again) Ask for trouble and you get it. Why there's a good boy in my neighborhood who went with a nice girl across the street for three years. Then he refused to marry her. Why? -- Because she only scored sixty-one on a Look Magazine marriage quiz! Jeff can't help smiling. STELLA When I married Myles, we were both maladjusted misfits. We still are. And we've loved every minute of it. JEFF That's fine, Stella. Now would you make me a sandwich? She relaxes. STELLA Okay -- but I'm going to spread some common sense on the bread. Lisa Fremont's loaded to her fingertips with love for you. I'll give you two words of advice. Marry her. JEFF (Smiles) She pay you much? Stella leaves for the kitchen in a huff. Jeff turns his chair to the window. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP Jeff now looks out to see what has happened to the old lady, and the man with the flowers. EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT The elderly lady is now asleep in her deck chair, her face covered with the Herald Tribune. There is no sign of the man with the flowers. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP Jeff's eyes travel up to the ballet dancer's window. EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT She is sitting near the window looking into an upright mirror. Dreamily, and methodically, she is brushing her long copper- colored hair. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP His eyes are suddenly turned in another direction, sharply to his left. EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT He is now looking at the windows of the apartments nearest to him. A shade has gone up, and a man, obviously a caretaker is raising a window with some effort. Having accomplished this, he turns back into the room, and we now see him approach a young man and woman who are standing just inside the doorway. He hands a key to the young man, and then obligingly brings in two suitcases which he places on the floor beside them. He gives them a studied, but agreeable nod, then departs. We now see that the girl has a small hat with a veil, and an ornate corsage pinned to her light blue tailored suit. The boy, who like the girl is perhaps twenty years old, wears a dark blue serge suit and a grey felt hat. He takes off the hat, and scales it over to a nearby chair. Quickly they are in each other's arms, kissing passionately, crushing the girl's corsage and pushing her hat back a little. They part, the boy laughs nervously, and takes a furtive glance out toward the corridor. He looks back into the room, and beckons her to come out. She follows him wonderingly. For a moment, both are lost from sight. When they reappear, he is carrying her in his arms, over the threshold. He sets her down, closes the door, and they kiss again. They part, still holding hands and looking into each other's eyes. Then slowly, and significantly, she looks toward the open window. He releases her hands, goes to the window and pull down the shade, as she is reaching upward with both hands to unpin her hat. INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP There is a soft, understanding look on Jeff's face, and he gives an involuntary sigh. He is unaware that Stella is now standing behind him. STELLA (Quietly) Window shopper. He freezes, turns slowly to look up at her. FADE OUT:
...continue to part 3