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Scripts: Strangers on a Train (18/Oct/1950) - part 1

                   STRANGERS ON A TRAIN

                            by

            Raymond Chandler and Czenzi Ormonde


                        FINAL DRAFT
                     October 18, 1950
 
 
                                                    FADE IN:
 
 EXT. UNION STATION, WASHINGTON, D.C. DAY
 LONG SHOT THE CAPITOL DOME IN THE B.G. AND THE AUTOMOBILE
 ENTRANCE TO THE STATION IN THE F.G. LOW CAMERA
 
 Activity of cars and taxis arriving and discharging passengers
 with luggage, busy redcaps, etcetera.
 
 We FOCUS on a taxi pulling up and stopping, The driver hands
 out modest looking luggage, including a bunch of tennis
 rackets in cases to a redcap. CAMERA PANS DOWN as the
 passenger gets out of the taxi so that we see only his shoes
 and the lower part of his trousers. He is wearing dark
 colored brogues and a conservative suit apparently. The
 feet move toward, the entrance to the station and out of
 scene. Immediately a chauffeur-driven limousine drives up
 and an expensive place of airplane luggage is handed out of
 this, and the passenger alighting from the back is seen to
 be wearing black and white sport shoes which, as before, are
 all we see of him. The sport shoes start off in the wake of
 the brogues.
 
 INT. STATION LOBBY
 
 CAMERA FOLLOWS the sport shoes and the brogues across the
 lobby into a passenger tunnel. There is the usual activity
 of passengers walking to and from, a loud-speaker announcing
 trains, etc.
 
 EXT. PASSENGER TUNNEL
 
 As the brogues and the sport shoes emerge to the train
 platform, CAMERA PANS them over to the steps of the train.
 
 INT. TRAIN
 
 The brogues and the sport shoes pass separately down the
 aisle, the sport shoes turning in at a compartment door and
 the brogues continuing toward the parlor car.
 
                                                 DISSOLVE TO:
 
 INT. PARLOR CAR (PROCESS)
 
 The brogues come to rest before a chair as the owner sits
 down. A moment later the sport shoes come to rest. before
 in adjoining chair.
 
 The legs belonging to the sport shoes stretch out, and one
 of the shoes touches one of the brogues.
 
                       MAN'S VOICE (over scene)
           Oh, excuse Me!
 
 CAMERA PULLS BACK AND UP to SHOW two young men seated in two
 parlor car chairs. BRUN0 ANTHONY, the wearer of the sport
 shoes, is about twenty-five. He wears his expensive clothes
 with the tweedy nonchalance of a young man who has always
 had the best. The wearer of the brogues is a fine looking
 but, at the moment, a somewhat troubled young man. This is
 GUY HAINES. He, too, is in his middle twenties and is well
 dressed because he can now afford to be. He nods politely,
 acknowledging Bruno's apology, then turns away with the
 gesture implying he wants privacy.
 
                       BRUNO
               (smiling with sudden recognition)
           I beg your pardon, but aren't you
           Guy Haines.
 
 Guy nods with a polite half smile. Being a well known
 tournament tennis player, he has had this sort of experience
 before.
 
                       BRUNO
               (snapping his finger)
           Sure! I saw you blast Faraday right
           off the court in South Orange last
           season. What a backhand! Made the
           semi-finals, didn't you?
 
 Guy acknowledges this with a modest nod and turns to his
 magazine rolled up in is fist.
 
                       BRUNO
               (with open admiration)
           I certainly admire people who do
           things.
 
               (smiling and introducing himself)
           I'm Bruno Anthony. Bruno. See Guy
           looks up. Bruno indicates his gold
           tie pin which bears his name in cut-
           out letters. Guy looks at it with
           the faintest expression of disdain.
           I suppose you think it's corny. But
           my mother gave it to me so of course
           I wear it to please her.
 
                       GUY
               (patiently)(a faint smile)
           How do you do.
 
                       BRUNO
               (with an apologetic grin)
           I don't usually talk so much. Go
           Ahead and read.
 
                         GUY
               (wryly)
           Thanks.
 
 Guy tries to read but is uneasily aware of Bruno's open
 appraisal.
 
                       BRUNO
           It must be pretty exciting to be so
           important.
 
                       GUY
               (fidgeting slightly)
           A tennis player isn't so important.
 
                       BRUNO
           People who do things are important.
           I never seem to do anything.
 
 Not knowing how to answer this, Guy looks a little
 embarrassed.
 
                       BRUNO
               (still insistent on
                being friendly)
           I suppose you're going to Southampton --
           for the doubles.
 
                       GUY
               (politely)
           You are a tennis fan.
 
 Bruno is inordinately pleased by this small tribute.
 
                       BRUNO
           Wish I could see you play. But I've
           got to be back in Washington tomorrow.
           I live in Arlington, you know.
 
 He has taken out a cigarette case. Holds it out to Guy.
 
                                BRUNO
              Cigarette?
 
                          GUY
              Not now, thanks.
             I don't smoke much.
 
                          BRUNO
              I smoke too much.
 
 He fumbles for a match. Guy brings out a lighter and hands
 it to Bruno.
 
                          BRUNO
              Thanks.
                  (he stares at the
                   lighter, impressed)
              Elegant.
 
 CLOSE SHOT OF THE LIGHTER
 
 Showing that it has the insignia of crossed rackets embossed
 on it, and underneath is engraved the inscription: "To G
 from A".
 
                          BRUNO'S VOICE
                  (reading)
              To G from A. Bet I can guess who A
              is.
 
 WIDER SHOT
 
 Guy reacts sharply.
 
                                GUY
                     (coldly)
              Yes?
 
                          BRUNO
              Anne Burton. Sometimes I turn the
              sport page and look at the society
              news. And the pictures. She's very
              beautiful, Senator Burton's daughter.
 
                          GUY
              You're quite a reader, Mr. Anthony.
 
                          BRUNO
              Yes, I am. Ask me anything, from
              today's stock reports to Li'l Abner,
              and I got the answer.
                          (MORE)
 
                       BRUNO (CONT'D)
           Even news about people I don't know.
           Like who'd like to marry whom when
           his wife gets her divorce.
 
                       GUY
               (sharply)
           Perhaps you read too much.
 
                       BRUNO
               (contritely)
           There I go again. Too friendly. I
           meet someone I' like and open my yap
           too wide. I'm sorry...
 
 At the appeal on Bruno's face, Guy slowly relents.
 
                       GUY
           That's all right. Forget it.
           I guess I'm pretty jumpy.
 
 Bruno smiles with and signals a waiter.
 
                       BRUNO
           There's a new cure for that.
 
               (to waiter)
           Scotch and plain water. A pair.
           Double.
 
               (to Guy with a chuckle)
           Only kind of doubles I play.
 
                       GUY
           You'll have to drink both of them.
 
                       BRUNO
               (grinning)
           And I can do it.
 
               (moving in)
           When's the wedding?
 
                       GUY
           What?
 
                       BRUNO
           The wedding. You and Anne Burton.
               (a gesture of explanation)
           It was in the papers.
 
                       GUY
           It shouldn't have been. Unless
           they've legalized bigamy overnight.
 
                      BRUNO
          I have a theory about that. I'd
          like to tell you about it some time.
          But right now I suppose divorce Is
          still the simplest operation.
 
 The waiter has brought the drinks. Bruno slips the lighter
 into hip pocket to free his hands for the bills which he
 gives to the waiter, waving away the change. He offers a
 glass to Guy. Guy takes it.
 
                      GUY
              (as if he needs it)
          I guess I will.
                      BRUNO
              (happily)
          This is wonderful -- having your
          company all the way to New York.
 
                      GUY
              (forced to explain)
          As a matter of fact, I'm not going
          direct. I'm stopping off. At
          Metcalf.
 
                      BRUNO
          Metcalf? What would anybody want to
          go there for?
 
                      GUY
          It's my home town.
 
                      BRUNO
          Oh, I get it! A little talk with
          your wife to about the divorce! I
          suppose she was the girl next door.
          Held her hand in high school and
          before you knew it -- hooked!
              (proud of his perspicacity)
          Am I right?
 
                      GUY
              (laconically)
          Close enough.
 
                      BRUNO
              (raises his glass)
          Well, here's luck, Guy. Drink up --
          then we'll have some lunch sent to
          my compartment.
 
                       GUY
           Thanks very much. But I think I'll
           go to the dining car.
               (he hails a waiter
                who is passing through
                with a food-laden tray)
           Do you know if there are any vacant
           seats in the dining car now?
 
                        WAITER
           Not for about twenty minutes I'm
           afraid, Sir.
 
                       BRUNO
               (pleased)
           See? You'll have to lunch with me.
               (motions the waiter
                back)
           Say, waiter, bring me some lamb chops
           and French fries and chocolate ice
           cream, Compartment D, Car 121.
               (turns to Guy)
           What'll you have, Guy?
 
                       GUY
           Thanks just the same, but I really
           don't think --
 
                       BRUNO
           Oh, go on and order.
 
 The waiter is hovering impatiently. Guy gives in out of
 embarrassment.
 
                       GUY
           Well, I'll Just have a hamburger and
           a cup of coffee.
 
                       BRUNO
               (delighted, lifts his
                glass in another
                toast)
           To the next Mrs. Haines.
 
 Guy nods curtly.
 
                                                   DISSOLVE TO:
 
 INT. BRUNO'S COMPARTMENT ON TRAIN (PROCESS)
 
 Bruno and Guy are finishing lunch. Bruno has been drinking
 and his eyes are bright and feverish. An almost empty liquor
 bottle is near a couple of detective novels covered with
 gaudily Illustrated dust jackets. Bruno has in unlighted
 cigarette in his mouth. Guy's lighter is on the table.
 Bruno snaps it a couple of times, as though fascinated, lights
 his cigarette and puts the lighter on the table again.
 
                       BRUNO
           Sure, I went to college. Three of
           them. Every time they kicked me out
           my father threw me back in.
               (bitterly)
           He finally gave up. He thinks I'm
           awfully small fry, not worth the
           bait.
               (wistfully)
           You my friend, Guy?
 
                        GUY
           Sure. I'm your friend, Bruno.
 
                       BRUNO
               (a little woozy)
           No, you're not, nobody thinks I'm
           anything special. Only my mother.
               (empties the bottle
                into his glass)
           My father hates me.
 
 Guy smiles this off as nonsense.
 
                       GUY
           You must be imagining things.
 
                       BRUNO
               (hitting the bottom
                of the bottle for
                the last drop)
           And I hate him. He thinks   I ought
           to catch the eight-five bus  every
           morning, punch a timeclock  and work
           my way up selling paint or  something.
           Him -- with all his money!
 
                       GUY
               (amused by Bruno)
           Well, what do you want to do?
 
                       BRUNO
           You mean before or after I kill him?
 
                GUY
        (chuckling)
    Before, of course.
 
                BRUNO
        (leaning forward eagerly)
    I want to do everything. I got a
    theory you're supposed to do
    everything before you die. Have you
    ever driven a car, blindfolded, at a
    hundred and fifty miles an hour?
 
                  GUY
    Not lately.
                BRUNO
    I did. I flew in a jet plans too.
        (his hand traces a
         swift streak through
         the air, and he adds
         sound effects)
    Zzzzzzzp! Man, that's a thrill!
    Almost blow the sawdust out of my
    head. I'm going to make a reservation
    on the first rocket to the moon...
 
                GUY
        (amused and curious)
    What are you trying prove?
 
                BRUNO
    I'm not like you, Guy. You're lucky.
    You're smart. Marrying the boss's
    daughter is a nice short cut to a
    career, isn't it?
 
                GUY
        (quickly)
    Marrying the senator's daughter has
    nothing to do with it. Can't a fellow
    look past a tennis not without being
    a goldbricker?
 
                BRUNO
    Take it easy, boy. I'm your friend,
    remember? I'd do anything for you.
 
                GUY
        (humoring Bruno)
    Sure, Bruno, sure.
         (glancing at his watch)
    We'll be pulling in soon. I've got
    to change trains.
 
                 BRUNO
     What'd you say her name was -- your
     wife's?
 
                 GUY
     Miriam.
 
                 BRUNO
     That's it. Miriam Joyce Haines.
     Played around a lot, I suppose?
                 GUY
     Let's not talk about it any more.
 
                  BRUNO
          (almost hopefully)
     Maybe she'll make more trouble for
     you.
 
                 GUY
     I don't think so.
 
                 BRUNO
     You mean you got enough on her to
     get your divorce no matter what?
 
                 GUY
     Let's change subject, Bruno, can't
     we?
 
                 BRUNO
     Okay, Guy. Want me to tell you one
     of my ideas for murdering my father?
 
                 GUY
         (indicating the
          detective novels)
     You've been reading too many of these.
 
                 BRUNO
         (going right on)
     You want to hear about the busted
     light socket in the bathroom, or the
     carbon monoxide in the garage?
 
                 GUY
     No. I may be old fashioned, but I
     thought murder was against the law.
 
                 BRUNO
     But not against the law of nature.
     My theory is that everybody is a
     potential murderer. Didn't you ever
     want to kill somebody? Say one of
     those useless fellows Miriam was
     running around with?
 
                 GUY
     You can't go around killing people
     just because you think they're
     useless.
 
                 BRUNO
     Oh, what's a life or two? Some people
     are bitter off dead, Guy. Take your --
     wife and my father, for instance.
     It reminds me of a wonderful idea
     had once. I used to put myself to
     sleep at night -- figuring it out.
     Now, let's say you want to get rid
     of your wife.
 
                 GUY
     Why?
 
                 BRUNO
     Let's say she refuses to give you a
     divorce --
         (raises a finger and
          stops Guy's protest)
     Let's say. You'd be afraid to kill
     her because you'd get caught. And
     what would trip you up? Motive.
     Now here's the plan...
 
                 GUY
     I'm afraid I haven't time to listen.
 
                 BRUNO
         (ignoring the remark)
     It's so simple, too. A couple of
     fellows meet accidentally, like you
     and me. No connection between them
     at all. Never saw each other before.
     Each of them has somebody he'd like
     to get rid of, but he can't murder
     the person he wants to get rid of.
     He'll get caught. So they swap
     murders.
 
                 GUY
     Swap murders?
 
                       BRUNO
           Each fellow does the other fellow's
           murder. Then there is nothing to
           connect them. The one who had the
           motive isn't there. Each fellow
           murders a total stranger. Like you
           do my murder and I do yours.
 
                       GUY
               (with relief)
           We're coming into my station.
 
                        BRUNO
           For example, your wife, my father.
           Criss-cross.
                       GUY
               (sharply)
           What?
 
                       BRUNO
               (with a smile)
           We do talk the same language -- don't
           we, Guy?
 
                       GUY
               (preparing to leave)
           Sure, we talk the same language.
           Thanks for the lunch.
 
                       BRUNO
               (beaming)
           I'm glad you enjoyed it. I thought
           the lamb chops were a little overdone
           myself.
 
 He holds out his hand. Guy is in a hurry but he shakes hands.
 
                       GUY
           Nice meeting you, Bruno.
 
                        BRUNO
               (detaining him at the door)
           You think my theory is okay, Guy?
           You like it?
 
                       GUY
           Sure, sure, Bruno. They're all okay.
               (he salutes a quick
                goodbye and hurries away)
 
 Left alone, Bruno picks up Guy's lighter from the table,
 starts to call Guy back to hand It to him.Then he looks closer
 at the insignia of crossed tennis rackets.
 
                        BRUNO
               (smiling)
           Criss-cross.
 
                                                 DISSOLVE TO:
 
 A WIDE VIEW OF THE TOWN OF METCALF
 
 METCALF RAILROAD STATION
 as the train comes in.
 
 THE TRAIN STATION PLATFORM MED. SHOT
 
 As Guy gets off the with his suitcase and tennis rackets. A
 baggage man with baggage truck is passing.
 
                          GUY
           Hi, Bill.
 
                       BAGGAGE MAN
               (smiling)
           Guy Haines! Good to too you, boy.
           You be sure to win at Southampton
           tomorrow, hear me? I've got two
           dollars on your nose.
 
                       GUY
               (indicating his
                suitcase and rackets)
           Then park these in a lucky spot for
           a few hours, will you?
 
                          BAGGAGE MAN
           Sure thing.
 
 He loads them onto a truck.
 
                                                 DISSOLVE TO:
 
 INT. METCALF STREET LONG SHOT
 
 Guy is walking up the main street.
 
 EXT. MUSIC SHOP
 
 Typical music shop of a small town, with plate glass windows
 and displays of radios, records, sheet music, etc. Activity
 of a couple of customers and salespeople inside. Guy comes
 along the street and goes into the shop.
 
 INT. MUSIC SHOP
 
 As Guy enters. There are the usual counters and shelves,
 pianos and radios on display, and the sound of a piano being
 tuned in the back of the store. MIRIAM is finishing with a
 customer at a counter. MR. HARGREAVES, the manager, is busy
 at the shelves. Another girl clerk is serving a customer.
 In one of the glass cubicles where records are tried out, a
 customer is playing symphonic music; in a second glass cubicle
 another customer is listening to a record of popular music.
 A third cubicle is empty. Activity of the street is seen
 through the plate glass front.
 
 Guy walks straight to Miriam, just as she is finishing with
 her woman customer, handing over a small package.
 
                       MIRIAM
               (taking money from customer)
           Even change. Thank you, Madam.
               (she looks up at Guy
                as the woman moves off)
           Well -- hello, Guy.
 
                       GUY
           You're looking well, Miriam.
 
 Miriam's face is pretty because it is still young. She is
 self-centered and inclined to be vindictive. She wears
 harlequin glasses with myopic lenses which tend to make her
 eyes look small.
 
                       MIRIAM
           So are you. You've got a nice tan,
           playing tennis with all your rich
           friends.
 
                       GUY
               (ignoring the remark)
           What time do we meet your lawyer?
 
                       MIRIAM
               (sly little smile)
           What's your hurry?
 
                       GUY
           My hurry? That's funny, coming from
           you! You're the one who's in a hurry,
           aren't you?
 
                       MIRIAM
               (coyly)
           When you wouldn't give me the divorce
           right away, I sort of hoped it was
           because you were a little bit jealous.
 
                        GUY
               (biting)
           I got over being jealous, a long
           time ago Miriam.
 Miriam's eyes slide toward the other girl clerk who has moved
 closer, within listening range.
 
                       MIRIAM
               (indicating empty
                glass cubicle)
           Let's talk in there.
 
 Guy follows Miriam across to the empty room. Miriam has
 brought her purse along.
 
 They enter.
 
 INT. CUBICLE
 
 Once inside, the sounds of the music playing from other parts
 of the shop are heard but very faintly. The piano tuning
 still goes on, but less stridently. Miriam and Guy are cooped
 together in the close quarters.
 
                       MIRIAM
               (intimately)
           Now this is cosier. Sort of like
           old times, isn't it, Guy?
 
                        GUY
               (coldly)
           Oh, skip it, Miriam. It's pretty
           late to start flirting with a
           discarded husband. Especially when
           you're going to have another man's
           baby.
 
                       MIRIAM
           Do you know, I think you're handsomer
           than ever?
 
                 GUY
     Let's see your lawyer and get this
     over with.
 
                 MIRIAM
     Did you bring the money, Guy?   Lawyers
     are expensive.
 
                 GUY
         (taking money from
          his wallet)
     Here it is.
 
                 MIRIAM
         (taking the money greedily)
     If I'd known what all that tennis
     nonsense of yours was going to lead
     to, I wouldn't have run out on you.
 
                 GUY
     What are you trying to say, Miriam?
     Come out with it.
 
                 MIRIAM
         (tucking the bills
          away)
     I'm not getting a divorce.
 
                 GUY
         (tense and angry)
     Why, you little doublecrosser. I
     didn't want this divorce, you did.
     That's what you've been harping about
     for the past year.
 
                 MIRIAM
     It's a woman's privilege to change
     her mind... Now I can shop for some
     pretty clothes. I wouldn't want you
     to be ashamed of me in Washington
     when we go to all those dinners and
     swanky parties.
 
                 GUY
     And what do you mean by that?
 
                 MIRIAM
         (Coyly)
     Don't look so mad, Guy. You always
     smile when your picture is being
     taken for the papers.
     Especially when you have Anne Burton
     hanging on your arm.
 
                       GUY
           Let's not talk about Anne Burton.
 
                       MIRIAM
           So, it's really serious between you
           two? Well, you can throw your dreams
           about her into the ashcan. Guy, I'm
           coming to Washington.
 
                        GUY
           What for?
                       MIRIAM
           To have my baby and be with you.
 
                        GUY
           Why me?   It's not my baby.
 
                       MIRIAM
           But people don't know that, Guy, do
           they? It would make a pretty story,
           wouldn't it -- the senator's daughter
           involved with a married man who's
           about to become a father.
 
                       GUY
               (furiously)
           You black conniving little liar!
 
 A few people in the shop look around as Guy's voice rises
 above the sound of the record playing.
 
                       MIRIAM
           Keep your voice down.
 
                       GUY
           What happened? Did he run out on
           you?
 
                       MIRIAM
           No man runs out on me. Not even
           you.
 
                       GUY
           You're a liar and a  cheat, Miriam.
           You've wanted to get  rid of me long
           enough and now I'll  go you one better --
           I never want to see  or hear of you
           again.
 
                        MIRIAM
               (demurely)
           I could be very pathetic as the
           deserted little mother in a courtroom,
           Guy. Think it over. Who would
           believe you?
 
 Guy seizes her angrily and in so doing, knocks the tone arm
 across the record with a loud screech. From outside we can
 see heads turn. Mr. Hargreaves, the manager, is very
 disturbed.
 
 MED. SHOT THROUGH GLASS PARTITION FROM HARGREAVES' VIEWPOINT
 We see Guy gripping Miriam's arms and apparently addressing
 her in a threatening manner, although we do not hear his
 words. The smile has faded from Miriam's face and something
 like cringing fear has taken its place. She is drawn and
 tense and seems to cower beneath Guy's rage.
 
 Mr. Hargreaves moves forward and opens Guy's tirade.
 
                       GUY
           ...That's what should happen to people
           like you. And if I...
 
                       HARGREAVES
               (interrupts)
           Break it up, folks. This isn't the
           place for a family quarrel.
 
                       GUY
               (his eyes blazing)
           Sorry. I'm leaving.
 
 He starts to exit from the booth. Miriam grabs his arm and
 screams at him:
 
                       MIRIAM
               (yelling like a fishwife)
           You heard what I said, Guy Haines.
           You can't throw me away like an old
           shoe. I'm coming to Washington to
           have my baby. Tell that to the
           senate!
 
 Guy strides out of the store, the manager and a few customers
 turning around in surprise.
 
 The two customers in other booths, seeing the quarrel, open
 their doors simultaneously and Miriam's tirade is climaxed
 by a cacophony of noise, a big symphony, loud hot music, and
 the apparently unaware piano tuner.


...continue to part 2