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Musical: Sunset Boulevard
Song: SCRIPT
LOS ANGELES 1949/1950
ACT ONE
Scene One
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
1.
[EXTERIOR]
[The patio and exterior of a preposterous, Italianate Hollywood mansion,
not more than twenty years old, but already shabby from neglect. The
deep end of the swimming pool is visible, the rest stretching off into
the wings. Floating in the pool, fully clothed, face down, is the body
of a young man. Dawn is just beginning to break. Over this image,
once it has become established, the VOICE of JOE GILLIS.]
JOE:
I guess it was five A.M.
A homicide had been reported
From one of those crazy mansions up on sunset.
Tomorrow every front page
Is going to lead with this story;
You see an old time movie star is involved,
Maybe the biggest star of all
[By now, a handsome broad-shouldered man in his early thirties has emerged
from the crowd and moved downstage to address the audience directly:
this JOE GILLIS.]
But before you read about it,
Before it gets distorted
By those Hollywood piranhas,
If you wanna know the real facts
You've come to the right party.
[During this, the stage is irregularly raked by cold blue light which turns
out to be thrown by the L.A.P.D. patrol cars, one of which draws up and
disgorges a number of POLICEMEN, who split up; two approach the house,
while another two move over to contemplate the body in the pool.]
Scene Two
PARAMOUNT
[EXTERIOR]
[The gates and open area at the front of the Paramount lot, lading to the studios
and the administration blocks. It is morning and a variety of young hopefuls are
milling about in the forecourt, waiting for their interviews, assignments or
auditions, and trying to impress one another. As this world gradually assembles
before our eyes, J0E's tone changes; he continues to address the audience.]
JOE (V.O.):
Let me take you back six months
I was at the bottom of the barrel,
I'd had a contract down at Fox
But I'd fallen foul of Darryl.
Now I had a date at Paramount,
Along with about a thousand other writers,
If it didn't come up roses, I'd be covering funerals
Back in Dayton, Ohio.
I'd hidden my car three blocks away
Turned out to be a smart move.
[JOE approaches the gate, where he's challenged by JONES,
the elderly guard. Underscoring continues.]
JOE:
YEH, I've an appointment with Mr. SHELDRAKE.
JONES:
Name?
JOE:
Gillis. Joseph Gillis.
[JONES consults his clipboard.]
JONES:
O.K., sir, you know your way?
[He waves JOE through and JOE joins the young hopefuls: these
include MYRON, a director; MARY, a young actress, blonde and
beautiful, artfully disheveled; JOANNA, a writer, dark and intense;
CLIFF, a cameraman; and KATHERINE, a willowy, pale New York actress.
They weave in and out of the technicians shifting heavy equipment
and the costumed extras, greeting each other with air-kisses, casual
waves and ritualized exchanges.]
JOE:
Hi there, Myron
MYRON:
How's it hanging?
JOE:
I've got a date with SHELDRAKE:
MYRON:
I'm shooting a western down at Fox
JOE:
How can you work with Darryl?
MYRON:
We should talk
JOE:
Gotta run
BOTH:
Let's have lunch
MARY:
Hi, Mr. Gillis
JOE:
You look great
MARY:
I'm up for an audition
JOE:
SHELDRAKE is driving me insane
MARY:
Don't forget me when you're casting
JOE:
We should talk
MARY:
Gotta run
BOTH:
Let's have lunch
JOE:
Morning, Joanna
MARY:
Hi there, Myron
JOANNA:
Who are you meeting
MYRON:
You look great
JOE:
SHELDRAKE, but do I need it?
MARY:
I've spent the last month fasting
JOANNA:
I'm handing in my second draft
MYRON:
I'm shooting a western down at Fox
JOE:
I'd really love to read it
MARY:
Don't forget me when you're casting
JOANNA:
We should talk
MYRON:
We should talk
JOE:
Gotta run
MARY:
Gotta run
BOTH:
Let's have lunch
BOTH:
Let's have lunch
[As he moves away from JOANNA, JOE is suddenly
waylaid by two men in hats and bad suits: FINANCEMEN.]
1ST FIN:
We want the key to your car.
2ND FIN:
You're way behind the payments
1ST FIN.:
Don't give us any fancy footwork....
2ND FIN.:
Give us the keys
JOE:
I only wish I could help.
I loaned it to my accountant
He has an important client down in Palm Springs
Felt like shooting the breeze
1ST FIN.:
Are you telling us you walked here?
JOE:
I believe in self-denial,
I'm in training for the priesthood
2ND FIN.:
Okay wise guy, three hundred bucks
1ST FIN.:
Or we're taking the car.
2ND FIN.:
We have a court order.
JOE:
I love it when you talk dirty.
[He slips away from them, back into the social whirl. The
FINANCE MEN meanwhile, by no means convinced, settle down to
watch and wait.]
JOANNA:
Hi there, Mary
CLIFF:
Where've you been hiding?
MARY:
How you're doing?
JOE:
What are you shooting?
JOANNA:
Writing for Betty Hutton.
CLIFF:
I'm trying to make my mind up.
MARY:
I'm up for something really big.
JOHN:
Why don't you ever call me back?
JOANNA:
Should you undo a bottom?
CLIFF:
Hey isn't that your agent?
MARY:
We should talk
JOE:
We should talk
JOANNA:
Gotta run
CLIFF:
Gotta run
ALL:
Let's have lunch
[JOE moves swiftly towards a sharply-dressed middle aged man,
MORINO, his agent. MORINO is with a very much younger man
and does his best to pretend not to notice JOE. When he
realizes the encounter is unavoidable, he makes a great show,
of pleasurable surprise and greets JOE with effusive bonhomie.]
MORINO:
Greetings, Gillis
What brings you here?
JOE:
You're my agent, you should know.
MORINO:
Make it quick, don't keep us waiting.
We're with SHELDRAKE 10.15
JOE:
Who is this?
MORINO:
He's my new boy.
BOY:
I have a play on Broadway...
MORINO:
[In verse.]
Every major studio is-
JOE:
[Interrupting]
I need is two hundred dollars
MORINO:
[To the boy]
He's always been a joker.
JOE:
O.K, a hundred. I really need some money!
MORINO:
Maybe what you need is a new agent
[He turns his back on JOE, puts his arm around his new boy and
moves off, murmuring in his ear. JOE watches them for a second,
then checks his watch and continues his progress through the
constantly developing ballet of salutations. An instrumental
section, during which a GRIP makes his way towards one of the
studio buildings, carrying a step-ladder.]
GRIP:
What can I tell you? It's for Alan Ladd's love-scene.
[A group of extras from CeciL B. DeMille's latest extravaganza
"Samson and Delilah" crosses the stage: JOE thinks he recognizes
a man with a false beard and gold helmet who's accompanied by a
gaggle of scantily-clad dancing girls: SAMMY. He raises his
hand in a priestly gesture.]
SAMMY:
Bless you, Joseph
JOE:
That you, Sammy?
SAMMY:
How do you like my harem?
JOE:
How come you get such lousy breaks?
SAMMY:
One learns to grin and bear 'em
GIRLS:
This is the biggest film ever made
JOE:
What're you planning?
ANITA:
Temple Virgin
DAWN:
Handmaiden to Delilah
JOE:
Let's have lunch.
[JOE spots another friend of his, ARTIE GREEN, a fresh-faced
assistant director in his mid-twenties.]
JOE:
Hello, Artie
ARTIE:
JOE:, you bastard!
JOE:
You never call me any more
ARTIE:
Found a cuter dancing partner how are things?
JOE:
Not so great
ARTIE:
Will this help? Twenty bucks?
[He hands JOE a 20-Dollar bill; JOE hesitates,
then accepts it.]
JOE:
Thanks, you're a pal. I'll pay you back.
ARTIE:
When you sign your contract.
[JOE nods, pats ARTIE on the shoulder and moves on.]
ALL:
[Ad lib]
Good morning, Mr. De Mille
JOE:
I just love Hollywood!
[The light hits JOE. Splintered lines overlap, creating
a nightmarish carcophony of phoney greetings.]
MYRON:
Morning, Joanna
CLIFF:
Where've been hiding?
SAMMY:
Hi there, Liza.
MYRON:
How're you doing?
KATHERINE:
I hate this weather
CLIFF:
You look great!
LIZ:
RKO are O.K.!
MARY:
How're you doing?
JOANNA:
You look great
GIRLS:
This is the biggest film ever made
CLIFF:
I'm trying to make my mind up
MARY:
Guess I was born to play her.
DAWN:
What is my motivation?
JOANNA:
You look great
SAMMY:
They're talking nominations
LIZ:
You should go work for Warner's.
MYRON:
Is your new script with SHELDRAKE?
MORINO:
I'm very close to SHELDRAKE.
ARTIE:
We shoot next month
ADAM:
[To Myron]
I just signed!
SAMMY/SANDY/ARTIE/MORINO/MYRON:
Gotta run!
JOHN:
Let's drive to Vegas this weekend
KATHERINE & JOANNA:
Let's have lunch!
ANITA:
You look great.
JOANNA:
I'm handing in my second raft.
MARY:
It's between me and DIETRICH.
KATHERINE:
I've landed a big Broadway show.
ADAM:
I'm gonna work for Metro.
CLIFF:
Let's have lunch
MARY:
Let's have lunch
GIRLS:
Let's have lunch, this is the biggest film ever made
MYRON:
I'd really love to read it.
CLIFF:
I'd know just how to light you.
JOHN:
Let's have lunch!
JOHN & LIZA:
It won't work
MORINO:
Let's pencil Thursday morning.
GROUP 1:
We should talk
GROUP 2:
Gotta run
GROUP 3:
Let's have lunch!
CORUS:
Hi, good morning, aren't we lucky?
Going to work with Cuckor
Paramount is paradise, movies from A to Zuckor.
We should talk, gotta run
GROUP 1:
Let's have lunch!
GROUP 2:
We should talk
GROUP 1:
Gotta run
GROUP 2:
Gotta run
ALL:
Let's have lunch!
SHELDRAKE'S OFFICE
[EXTERIOR]
[Meanwhile, the lights have come up on SHELDRAKE's office.
SHELDRAKE, a mournful dyspeptic figure, sits behind a big
desk, innocent of books, speaking into one of his array
of phones.]
GROUP 1:
We should talk
SHELDRAKE:
This is SHELDRAKE...
GROUP2:
We should talk
SHELDRAKE:
Get me that shithead Nolan!
GROUP 1:
Gotta run
GROUP 2:
Gotta run
ALL:
Let's have lunch!
[Meanwhile, outside, the ceremony of empty greetings
continues, occasionally interrupted by SHELDRAKE's harsh
comments, or odd lines emerging from the contrapuntal
melee.]
SHELDRAKE:
[A total change of tone]
Nolan, sweetheart,
Great to talk,
I read your script this morning
It won't work!
SECRETARY:
Mr. Gillis
SHELDRAKE:
It won't work
Who needs lunch?
[SHELDRAKE is shaking some bicarb into a tumbler
of water and stirring it as JOE is shown into his
office. He looks up, surprised, and makes an
unconvincing stab at conviviality.]
SHELDRAKE:
JOE! What the hell brings you here?
JOE:
You wanted to see me
SHELDRAKE:
I did?
[He thinks for a moment, frowning ferociously,
and downs his medicine.]
SHELDRAKE:
Any idea what about?
JOE:
I sent you an outline.
SHELDRAKE:
You did? I never saw it. Nobody tells me anything.
JOE:
"Based Loaded". It's a baseball picture
SHELDRAKE:
So, pitch.
JOE:
It's about a rookie shortstop that's batting 347.
The kid was once mixed up in a hold-up.
Now he's trying to go straight, only...
SHELDRAKE:
Wait a minute. Wait a minute. I think I have read this.
[He presses a buzzer on the intercom on his desk.]
SHELDRAKE:
Could somebody bring in whatever we have on...
[He looks up at JOE, hoping for guidance.]
JOE:
"Based Loaded".
SHELDRAKE:
..."Based Loaded".
[He puts down the receiver, turns his attention back to JOE.]
SHELDRAKE:
They tell the kid he has to throw the World Series, am I right?
JOE:
They're pretty hot for it over at Twentieth.
SHELDRAKE:
Good!
JOE:
No, I don't I trust Zanuck. Can you see Ty Power as a
shortstop? You've got the best man for it right on the
lot: Alan Ladd.
[There's a knock and BETTY SCHAEFER steps into the room. She's
a clean-cut, bright-looking girl in her twenties. She advances on
SHELDRAKE, dropping a fold on his desk, not noticing JOE.]
BETTY:
Here's that "Bases loaded" material, Mr. SHELDRAKE.
I made a two-page synopsis of it for you.
But I wouldn't I bother to read It.
SHELDRAKE:
Why not?
BETTY:
It's just a rehash of something that wasn't
very good to begin with.
SHELDRAKE:
Meet Mr. Gillis. He wrote it.
[BETTY turns to JOE, horribly embarrassed.]
SHELDRAKE:
This is Miss Kramer
BETTY:
Schaefer, BETTY Schaefer. And right now,
I'd like to crawl into a hole and pull it in after me
JOE:
If I could be of any help...
BETTY:
I'm sorry, Mr. Gillis, I couldn't see the point of it.
I think pictures should at least try to say a little something.
JOE:
I see you're one of the message kids.
I expect you'll have turned down "Gone With The Wind".
SHELDRAKE:
No, that was me.
BETTY:
And I guess I was disappointed. I've read some
of the stories you wrote for the magazines and I
thought you had some real talent.
JOE:
That was last year. This year I felt like eating.
BETTY:
Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Gillis.
SHELDRAKE:
That'll be all, Miss Kramer.
Well, looks like Zanuck's got himself a baseball picture.
[BETTY leaves the room. SHELDRAKE looks up at JOE.]
JOE:
Listen, Mr. SHELDRAKE, could you give me three hundred dollars?
As a personal loan?
[SHELDRAKE is dreadful taken aback. The phone rings
and SHELDRAKE jumps at the opportunity to take the call.
He turns back to JOE.]
SHELDRAKE:
[Gillis, last year somebody talked me into buying a ranch
in the valley, so I borrowed the money from the bank.]
[Back to the phone]
SHELDRAKE:
Yes, OK, put him on.
[Back to JOE]
SHELDRAKE:
And this year I had to mortgage the ranch so I could keep up
my life insurance payments...
JOE:
I've been grinding out original stories, two a week,
for months now. Maybe they're not original enough.
Maybe they're too original.
SHELDRAKE:
The finest things in the world have been written
on an empty stomach.
JOE:
It's not my stomach I'm worried about, it's my car. If I lose
that in this town, it's like having my legs cut off.
[He turns back to the phone: JOE gives up and walks out on him.]
[JOE moves slowly, aware that the FINANCE MEN are waiting to
intercept him. BETTY SCHAEFER is hurrying after him. The MUSIC
starts up again, underscoring the dialogue.]
JOE:
Come to get your knife back?
It's still here, right between my shoulder blades.
BETTY:
You wrote a story, a couple of years back. About a teacher.
Title something to do with windows.
JOE:
"BLIND WINDOWS"
BETTY:
I really liked it.
JOE:
You're making me feel all warm and runny inside.
BETTY:
Maybe I can get SHELDRAKE to option it.
[Silence, JOE glances at the FINANCE MEN, circling like sharks.]
JOE:
I doubt it. He likes pictures with great weather and happy endings.
BETTY:
Why don't you let me try?
[JOE considers for a moment, tempted, hesitating.]
BETTY:
Let's get together
JOE:
That's what they all say.
BETTY:
I'll be at Schwab's on Thursday
I'm always there round six o'clock.
JOE:
I gotta check my diary.
BETTY:
We should talk.
JOE:
Gotta run.
BETTY:
What's the rush?
[He runs into an empty sound stage. She follows.]
JOE:
See those Gorillas?
BETTY:
Yes, what about them?
JOE:
Do me a terrific favor,
Keep them amused while I escape
BETTY:
If you're at Schwab's on Thursday
JOE:
Done.
1st FIN:
Hey, Gillis,
Give us the keys
2nd FIN:
Yeah, c'mon buddy boy, cough up.
BETTY:
Shhh! Please be quiet, Mr. DeMille is shooting
right over there.
1st FIN:
So what?
BETTY:
He's working on one of Hedy's red hot scenes in
'Samson and Delilah'. Say... do you guys wanna
stay for awhile?
1st FIN:
No
2nd FIN:
[Interrupting]
I think we maybe have five minutes.
[She leads him through o tall doorway and ingeniously
vanishes leaving them disorientated for a moment. Then
the they simultaneously realize they've been tricked and
set off back towards their car at a run.]
Scene Three
ON THE ROAD
[EXTERIOR]
[JOE's car noses into one of the main boulevards near
Paramount; but the FINANCE MEN come roaring up in pursuit.
JOE hits the gas and a high speed chase ensues. Finally
after a hair-raising dash through the Holmby Hills, JOE's
car turns on to Sunset, gains some distance with an
enterprising U-turn and then suffers a sudden blow-out.
With some difficulty, JOE manages to control the car and
turns into an open driveway, which then curves away from
the street, so that the FINANCE MEN thunder by without
seeing JOE's car.]
Scene Four
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[EXTERIOR]
The property is noticeably shabbier and more run down than
it was in the opening scene. The patio and little formal
garden are choked with weeds, the plants on the balcony
are overgrown and out of control and the pool is covered
over. JOE jumps out of his car.]
JOE:
What a lovely sight!
A great big empty garage.
[He pushes his car the last few yards into an open garage:
and discovers it is not empty after all. Under a tarpaulin,
which JOE lifts, curios, is the rear of an insanely elaborate
1932 Isotta-Fraschini with speaking tubes, running-boards,
glass partitions and leopard-skin upholstery. He contemplates
it for a moment.]
JOE:
This thing must burn up ten gallons to a mile.
[Then he emerges from the garage and starts walking towards
the house, as a ghostly version of NEW WAYS TO DREAM begins.
He comes to a halt, marveling both at the scale and the
dereliction of the house.]
JOE:
Christ, where am I?
I had landed
In a garden of some palazzo
Like an abandoned movie set.
VOICE:
You there!
[JOE approaches still searching in vain
for the source of the voice.]
VOICE:
Why are you so late?
[Before he can summon up an answer another shock; the French
doors grind open and an extraordinary figure emerges from the
house. This is MAV VON MAYERLING, a sixty-year-old butler in
black tail coat, striped trousers, stiff-collar shirt and white
cotton gloves. He contemplates JOE, his expression blank; then
speaks in some mitteleuropaisch accent.]
MAX:
This way.
[JOE steps forward, responding to MAX's natural authority.]
JOE:
Hey look, buddy, I just pulled my car....
MAX:
And wipe your feet!
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[INTERIOR]
[JOE obeys and steps through the French doors.
The huge gloomy drawing roam is revealed. The floor is tiled
and the ceiling supported with dark heavy beams. There are
framed photographs everywhere and musty hangings. The breeze
moans through the pipes of a built-in organ. At the back of
the room, on a massage table, something is lying, shrouded
in a Spanish shawl, with candles in silver candlesticks
burning at each corner at the table. The VOICE rings out
again from above, where a black marble staircase, leads up
to a broad gallery.]
VOICE:
Max! Tell him to wait!
[MAX turns to JOE, his tone chilly.]
MAX:
You heard.
[He starts to move off.]
MAX:
If you need my help with the coffin, call me.
JOE:
Hey, wait a minute... Hey, buddy...
[But MAX is gone. JOE looks around, somewhat at a loss.
But before he can make a move the door to the gallery opens
and another bizarre figure appears: NORMA DESMOND. Despite
the gloom, she's wearing dark glasses and she's dressed in
black loose pyjamas and black high heel pumps. She looks
younger than her age, which is probably somewhere in the
vicinity of 50, and, despite a sickly pallor, she's extremely
striking and was evidently once a great beauty. Her hair is
encased in a leopard-patterned chiffon scarf. JOE watches
her, transfixed, as she proceeds in stately fashion down the
stairs.]
NORMA:
Any law against burying him in the garden?
JOE:
I wouldn't know.
NORMA:
I don't care anyway.
[She sweeps past him to the back of the room, where she stands
for a moment looking down at the child-sized bundle on the massage
table. JOE, all his writer's instincts now alerted, watches her,
fascinated. The MUSIC swells.]
NORMA:
No more wars to fight
White flags fly tonight
You are out of danger now
Battlefield is still
Wild poppies on the hill
Peace can only come when you surrender.
Here the tracers fly
Lighting up the sky
But I'll fight on to the end
Let them send their armies
I will never bend
I won't see you now till I surrender
I'll see you again I surrender.
[As the last echoes of this die away she sweeps up
the corpse into her arms, the shawl falls away and for
the first time, we see the body is that of a chimpanzee.
NORMA stares defiantly at JOE, the monkey's face cradled
against her own.]
NORMA:
Now don't you give me a fancy price just because I'm rich.
JOE:
Lady, you've got the wrong man.
[NORMA pauses in the act of rearranging the corpse and
shoots JOE a fierce glance.]
JOE:
I had some trouble with my car, I just pulled into your driveway.
NORMA:
Get out!
JOE:
O.K. And I'm sorry you lost your friend.
NORMA:
Get out of here.
[JOE almost out; then he turns back, frowning.]
JOE:
Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
NORMA:
Or shall I call my servant?
JOE:
Aren't you Norma Desmond?
You used to be in pictures.
You used to be big.
NORMA:
I am big. It's the pictures that got small.
[She advances on him, flushed with indignation.]
NORMA:
There was a time in this business
You wouldn't remember
We had the eyes of the whole wide world
But that wasn't good enough
For those Ensteins in the front office
They wanted the ears of the world as well.
So they took all the idols and smashed them.
The Fairbanks, the Gilberts, the Valentinos,
They trampled on what was divine
They threw away the gold of silence
When all they needed was this face of mine...
JOE:
Don't blame me, I'm just a writer.
[JOE's back in the room now; watching as NORMA summons up
before him the essence of her vanished stardom.]
NORMA:
With one look
I can break your heart
With one look
I play every part
I can make your sad heart sing
With one look you'll know
All you need to know.
With one smile
I'm the girl next door
Or the love that you've hungered for
When I speak it's with my soul
I can play any role
No words can tell
The stories my eyes tell
Watch me when I frown
You can't write that down
You know I'm right
It's there in black and white
When I look your way
You'll hear what I say.
Yes, with one look
I put words to shame
Just one look
Sets the screen aflame
Silent music starts to play
One tear in my eye
Makes the whole world cry.
With one look
They'll forgive the past
They'll rejoice: I've returned at last
To my people in the dark
Still out there in the dark...
[She sweeps majestically around the stage
as the orchestra takes the melody.]
NORMA:
Silent music starts to play
With one look you'll know
All you need to know.
With one look
I'll ignite a blaze
I'll return to my glory days
They'll say Norma's back at last.
This time I am staying
I'm staying for good
I'll be back
Where I was born to be
With one look
I'll be me.
[She comes to herself suddenly, aware once again of his presence.]
NORMA:
Now go.
JOE:
Next time I'll bring my autograph book or maybe a hunk
of cement and ask for your footprint.
[JOE nods good-naturedly, turns and sets off towards the French
doors. He's almost out them, when NORMA speaks again.]
NORMA:
Just a minute.
[JOE stops in the doorway, half turns back.]
NORMA:
Did you say you were a writer?
JOE:
That's what it says on my guild card?
NORMA:
And you've written pictures?
JOE:
Sure have. Would you like to see my credits?
NORMA:
Come over here, I want to ask you something.
[JOE hesitates; but his curiosity gets the better of him
and he begins to move back into the body of the room.]
NORMA:
What sort of length is a movie script these days?
JOE:
Depends.
[Standing by the sofa, next to the gold grand piano covered
in photographs, is an immense manuscript, several bundles, each
wrapped in red ribbon, standing about two feet high.]
NORMA:
I wrote this. It's a very important picture.
JOE:
Looks like six very important pictures.
NORMA:
It's for DeMille to direct.
JOE:
Oh, yeah? And will you be in it?
NORMA:
Of course. What do you think?
JOE:
Just asking. I didn't know you were planning a comeback.
NORMA:
I hate that word. It's a return.
JOE:
Well... fair enough.
NORMA:
I want you to read it.
[This takes JOE by surprise; it takes him
a moment to devise a response.]
JOE:
You shouldn't let another writer read your stuff.
He may steal it.
NORMA:
I'm not afraid. Sit down. Max!
[JOE still dithers; MAX appears at once.]
NORMA:
Bring something to drink.
MAX:
Yes, Madame.
[JOE brightens; but still hesitates.]
NORMA:
I said sit down!
[JOE lapses on to the sofa. The following sequence telescopes
the passing of time covered by the reading of the script; but for
now, NORMA, with great care, picks up the first of the bundles of
manuscript, almost sensually slips off the ribbon and proffers it
to JOE.]
NORMA:
It's about Salome.
[MAX arrives wheeling a silver trolley, with champagne, caviar
and red Venetian glasses. JOE takes the manuscript from NORMA and
settles himself.]
NORMA:
Soleme: the story of a woman.
The woman who was all women.
[He begins to read. MAX withdraws. NORMA hovers, watching JOE.]
NORMA:
Salome, what a woman, what a part!
Innocent body and a sinful heart,
Inflaming Herods' lust,
But secretly loving a holy man.
No one could play her like I can.
[She's off in a world of her own; so much so, that JOE is able to
sing his lines directly to the audience, as he shifts through the
pages and sips his champagne.]
JOE:
Well, I have nothing urgent coming up,
I thought I might as well skim it.
It's fun to see how bad bad writing can be,
This promised to go to the limit.
[NORMA paces impatiently; the light is beginning to fade.]
NORMA:
There's so many great scenes. I can't wait.
A boiling cauldron of love and hate.
She toys with Herod
Till he's putty in her hands
He reels tormented through the desert sands.
[MAX reappears and moves around the room, lighting laps.
JOE picks up another bundle.]
JOE:
It sure was a real cheery set-up,
The wind wheezing through that organ.
Max shuffling around and a dead ape
Dumped on a shelf
And her staring like a gorgon.
[NORMA is on the stairs now, peering across the roam at JOE.]
NORMA:
They drag the Baptist up from the jails.
She dances the dance of the seven veils.
[NORMA throws herself into an extravagant dance, distracting JOE.]
NORMA:
Herod says: I'll give you anything.
[JOE resumes reading as MAX shows in a man dressed
in formal evening clothes: the PET UNDERTAKER. He has
a baby coffin under his arm.]
JOE:
Now it was time for some comedy relief
The guy with the baby casket.
Must have seen a thing or two, that chimp,
Shame it was too late to ask it.
[During this, MAX and NORMA have followed the UNDERTAKER
out into the garden, he having stowed the chimp in the coffin,
wrapped in NORMA'S shawl. Now NORMA reappears suddenly,
starting JOE.]
NORMA:
Have you got to the scene
Where she asks for his head?
If she can't have him living,
She'll take him dead.
They bring in his head
On a silver tray.
She kisses his mouth,
It's a great screenplay!
[JOE's on the last bundle now; NORMA lights
herself a Turkish cigarette, having first
inserted it in a holder attached to a curious
clip which twists around her index finger.]
JOE:
It's got to be eleven, I was feeling ill,
What the hell was I doing?
Melodrama and sweet champagne
And a garbled plot from a scrambled brain;
But I had my own plot brewing.
[He lays down the last page with a slight sigh.
NORMA is instantly alert.]
JOE:
Just how old is Salome?
[NORMA doesn't bat an eyelid.]
NORMA:
Sixteen.
JOE:
I see.
NORMA:
Well?
JOE:
It's fascinating.
NORMA:
Of course it is.
[JOE Looks up at her, choosing his words judiciously.]
JOE:
Could be it's a little long
Maybe the opening's wrong
But it's extremely good for the beginner.
NORMA:
No, it's a perfect start,
I wrote that with my heart
The river-bank, the Baptist and the sinner.
JOE:
Shouldn't there be some dialogue?
NORMA:
I can say anything I want with my eyes.
JOE:
It could use a few cuts.
NORMA:
I will not have it butchered!
JOE:
I'm not talking limb from limb,
I just mean a little trim
All you need is someone who can edit.
NORMA:
I want someone with a knack
Not just any studio hack
And don't think for a moment I'd share credit!
[NORMA stares at him, an idea
beginning to form in her mind.]
NORMA:
When were you born?
JOE:
December twenty-first, why?
NORMA:
I like Sagittarius. You can trust them.
JOE:
Thanks.
[She turns on him, her eyes blazing.]
NORMA:
I want you to do this work.
[JOE feigns a moment of surprise; then his
eyes narrow and his voice is shrewd.]
JOE:
Me? Gee, I don't know, I'm busy. I just finished one
script and I'm about to start a new assignment.
NORMA:
I don't care.
JOE:
I'm pretty expensive. I get five hundred a week.
NORMA:
Don't you worry about money.
I'll make it worth your while.
[JOE is still not giving anything away.
He pretends to reflect.]
JOE:
Well. It's getting kind of late.
NORMA:
Are you married, Mr. ...?
JOE:
The name is Gillis. Single.
NORMA:
Where do you live?
JOE:
Hollywood. Alto Nido Apartments.
NORMA:
You'll stay here.
JOE:
I'll come back early tomorrow.
NORMA:
Nonsense. there's a room over the garage.
Max will take you there. Max!
[Rather unnervingly, MAX emerges from the
shadows; he's been there for some time.]
MAX:
Yes, Madame.
NORMA:
Take Mr. Gillis to the guest room.
[After a second's hesitation, JOE finds himself
following MAX towards the French doors.]
NORMA:
We'll begin at nine sharp.
[MAX, holding up a lamp, leads JOE across
the dark patio and up an outside wooden staircase
to an austere, small room above the garage.]
JOE:
Now this is more like it.
MAX:
I made up the bed this afternoon.
JOE:
Thanks.
[He considers this for a moment.]
JOE:
How did you know I was going to stay?
MAX:
There's a soap and a toothbrush in the bathroom.
JOE:
She's quite a character, isn't she, that Norma Desmond?
[MAX is slightly scandalized this remark; but he
preserves his dignity and looks JOE straight in the eye.]
MAX:
Once, you won't remember,
If you said Hollywood,
Here was the face you'd think of,
Her face on every billboard,
In just a single week
She'd get ten thousand letters.
Men would offer fortune
For a bloom from her corsage
Or a few strands of her hair.
Today
She's half-forgotten,
But it's the pictures that got small.
She is the greatest star of all.
Then,
You can't imagine,
The way fans would sacrificed themselves
To touch her shadow.
There was
A Maharajah
Who hanged himself with one of her
Discarded stockings.
She's immortal,
Caught inside that flickering light
Beam
Is the youth which cannot fade.
Madame's
A living legend;
I've seen so many idols fall.
She is the greatest star of all.
[He leaves the rooms. JOE watches him go,
strongly impressed. Left alone, JOE moves
restlessly around the room for o moment.]
JOE:
When he'd gone, I stood looking out the window for a while.
There was the ghost of a tennis court with faded marking
And a sagging net. There was an empty pool where Clara Bow
and Fatty Arbuckle Must have swum 10,000 midnights ago.
And then there was something else; The chimp's last rites,
as if she were laying a child to rest. Was her life really
as empty as that?
[Below, MAX disappears for a moment into the shadow of
the garage. Then, he reemerges. He's carrying a shovel and
under his arm, the chimpanzee's coffin. He advances to a
spot where there's an overgrown rosebed in the centre of
the Patio outside the French doors. As he arrives there,
NORMA who is evidently been waiting, emerges into the
garden. They stand for a moment in silent communion, the
atmosphere solemn. Then MAX takes up the shovel.
[Above in his room, JOE is about to pull the curtain when
he catches sight of MAX and NORMA. He stands at the window,
staring down at them, riveted by the peculiarity, of the
scene, shaking his head wonderingly.]
[SLOW FADE TO BLACK]
Scene Five
SCHWAB'S DRUGSTORE
[INTERIOR]
[Schwab's is a Sunset Boulevard institution, a combination
soda-fountain, news stand, tobacconist's and diner; it's crowded
with movie people of one sort and another; including some we
recognize from the opening scene at Paramount, MARY, for example,
whose day-job is as a waitress of Schwab's (like Lana Turner);
MYRON, the director; JOANNA, the writer; and ARTIE GREEN.
BETTY sits in a booth, on her own, with her back to the door.]
JOANNA:
He says my screenplay's much too dark
KATHERINE:
What do they know , those morons
JOHN:
What's with you
LISA:
Some yes man
Just said no
ALISA:
Hold the fries
MARY:
He asked me to screen test on my knees.
MYRON:
He's always been religious
SAMMY:
Who's your agent?
LORNA:
Marty Resnick!
SAMMY:
Thought he went out of business
ANITA:
Bring the check
ALISA:
Ham on rye
MARY:
Cherry pie
ANITA:
What are you playing?
STEVE:
Third policeman
ANITA:
Wonderful great fantastic
SANDY:
Where's your husband?
SASHA:
He's in Reno
GERARD:
So are you free for dinner?
ADAM:
Time to go.
SASHA:
What's the rush?
SODA JERK:
Two large shakes.
RICHARD:
Six broiled dogs.
[During this last round JOE has entered the drugstore.
He hesitates in the doorway, slightly disorientated by
the hubbub and bustle after the sepulchral calm of NORMA'S
house. ARTIE spots him and hurries over.]
ARllE:
Joe, you bastard
What brings you here?
JOE:
I'm taking a creative note
Form some snotty studio smartass
What's with you?
ARTIE:
I'm in love
JOE:
What, again?
ARTIE:
No, no, no,
This is it
The real thing.
Never thought it could happen like this,
Saw myself as the Jewish Casanova,
But as soon as we shared our first kiss
I knew all my romancing days were over.
Now I'm up in the clouds
And I'm head over heels.
I know it sounds corny, but that's how it feels.
JOE:
Great. Any chance of meeting this paragon.
ARTIE:
Sure, just for a minute; she's due to have a meeting
with some poor struggling hack.
[He's steered JOE over to BETTY's booth; when she
sees him, she rises to her feet.]
BETTY:
Hello, Mr. Gillis.
ARTIE:
You two know each other?
JOE:
Yeah, I'm the hack.
ARTIE:
Oh, I'm sorry. And she's the smartass?
BETTY:
Just a minute. you're leaving me way behind here.
JOE:
Don't worry, we'd better have our meeting, I don't want
to come between you two love birds a minute longer than
I have to. Oh, and congratulations. May I?
[He sits at the table next to BETTY painting up at ARTIE.]
JOE:
He tells me you've made a new man of him.
[He turns to ARTIE.]
JOE:
And you've done real well, I'd say. 0f course, she could
use a little guidance in the literary appreciation department.
BETTY:
I like Blind Windows.
JOE:
That's why I'm here.
BETTY:
So have you had any ideas about how you could turn it into
a movie?
[JOE hesitates a moment; then settles back in his seat.]
JOE:
Girl meets boy,
That's a safe beginning.
ARTIE:
Is this a western?
I love the wide rolling plains.
BETTY:
No it's not. They live in the city.
ARTIE:
Then it's a thriller;
The sidewalk gleams when it rains.
Or how about a brilliant pianist?
Every time the full moon's on the rise
He can't play without a shot of virgin's blood.
BETTY:
Thanks a lot.
Be sure to leave your number.
ARTIE:
You'll think of something.
I'll see you opening night.
[He moves off to join MYRON and JOANNA
at another table. BETTY turns to JOE.]
BETTY:
Girl meets boy,
Now if I remember,
She's a young teacher,
He's a reporter.
It's hate at first sight.
JOE:
It won't sell,
These days they want glamour;
Fabulous heiress
Meets handsome Hollywood heel.
The problem is, she thinks he's a dentist.
Would you believe it?
A wedding in the last reel.
BETTY:
It doesn't have to be so mindless.
You should write from your experience
Give us something really moving;
Something true.
JOE:
Who wants true?
Who the hell wants moving?
Moving means starving
And true means holes in your shoe.
BETTY:
No, you're wrong.
They still make good pictures.
Stick to your story,
It's a good story.
JOE:
O.K. Miss Schaeffer;
I give it to you.
[He's on his feet; BETTY is looking up at him, completely
wrong-footed by his unexpected reaction.]
BETTY:
What do you mean?
JOE:
It's what I said. It's all yours. I've given up writing myself.
So you write it.
BETTY:
Oh, I'm not good enough to do it on my own. I thought we
could write it together.
JOE:
I can't, I'm all tied up.
BETTY:
Couldn't we work evening? Six o'clock in the morning?
I'd come to your place.
JOE:
Look, BETTY, it can't be done, it's out.
[He relents a little at her obvious disappointment,
smiles apologetically.]
JOE:
Let's keep in touch through Artie. That way if you get stuck,
we can at least talk.
[He smiles down at her, relaxed now. They shake hands; and
the handshake lasts a little longer than strictly necessary
interrupted indeed by the arrival of ARTIE.]
ARTIE:
Not going, are you? Come to the movies with us.
JOE:
No, I was just explaining to Betty, I've given up the movies.
ARTIE:
Well, will we see you New Year's Eve, my place, same as ever?
JOE:
Yeah, sure, as long as you promise there'll be a
lot of bad behavior.
ARTIE:
Guaranteed the worst in town.
[JOE inclines his head to BETTY.]
JOE:
Miss Schaefer.
BETTY:
Mr. Gillis.
JOE:
Good luck.
[He turns and hurries out of the place.]
Scene Six
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[EXTERIOR]
[The house, ghostly in the moonlight. To begin with, the
stage is empty; then JOE appears, moving silently across
the patio. At a certain point he's startled, as MAX glides
out through the French doors to intercept him.]
MAX:
Where have you been?
JOE:
Out. I assume I can go out when I feel like it.
MAX:
Madame is quite agitated. Earlier this evening,
She wanted you for something and you could not be found.
JOE:
Well, that's tough.
MAX:
I don't think you understand, Mr. Gillis,
Madame is extremely fragile. She has moment of melancholy.
JOE:
Why? Because of her career? She done well enough.
Look at all the fan mail she gets everyday.
MAX:
I wouldn't look too closely at the postmarks if I were you.
JOE:
You mean you send them?
MAX:
Will you be requiring some supper this evening, sir?
JOE:
No. And Max
MAX:
Yes. sir?
JOE:
Who the hell do you think you are, bringing my stuff up
from my apartment without consulting me?
I have a life of my own- now you're telling me I'm
supposed to be a prisoner here.
[MAX reconsiders him for a moment, his eye cold.]
MAX:
I think, perhaps, sir, you will have to make up your mind to
abide by the rules of this house. That is, if you want the job.
He turns; the house swallows him up and he disappears as
abruptly as he materialized. JOE stands for a moment, perplexed;
then he proceeds on his way up the wooden staircase towards
his room above the garage.]
Scene Seven
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[INTERIOR]
[A table has been cleared for JOE in the main room. He sits
at the typewriter, the manuscript piled at his elbow; a
pencil held between his teeth, scissors and a pot a paste
to hand. NORMA prowls the room, watching him avidly.]
[Over this, J0E's VOICE.]
JOE (V.O.):
I started work on the script
I hacked my way through the thicket
A maze of fragmented ramblings
By a soul in limbo.
She hovered there like a hawk,
Afraid I'd damage her baby.
The house was always so quiet.
Just me and Max and that organ.
No one phoned and nobody ever came.
I couldn't breathe in that room
It was so full of NORMA DESMOND
And when she ran her old movies
I thought I would choke.
[During this MAX has been busying himself, setting up
a projector and lacing up the reels. JOE wanders over to
take his place on the sofa. Eventually NORMA sweeps in,
dressed to the nines and settles down next to JOE. MAX
switches on the projector and the beam radiates out across
the auditorium. For a while, the whir of the projector;
NORMA watches, looking out into the audience, entranced;
while JOE, far more detached, lights himself a cigarette,
the smoke drifting across the light-beam.]
NORMA:
This was dawn,
There were no rules,
We were so young,
Movies were born;
So many songs
Yet to be sung.
So many roads
Still unexplored;
We gave the world
New ways to dream.
Somehow we found
New ways to dream.
[She takes JOE's arm excited and points up at the screen,
somewhere above the audience's heads.]
Joan of Arc;
Look at my face,
Isn't it strong?
There in the dark,
Up on the screen,
Where I belong.
We'll show them all
Nothing has changed,
We'll give the world
New ways to dream.
Everyone needs
New ways to dream
("WITH ONE LOOK" returns as underscoring.)
By now, she's gripping on to JOE, who detaches himself
gently and moves to the other end of the sofa, where he
turns to contemplate NORMA, who's still staring
ecstatically at the screen.]
JOE:
I didn't argue,
Why hurt her?
You don't yell at the sleepwalker
Or she could fall and break her neck.
She smelled of faded roses,
It made me sad to watch her
As she relived her glory.
Poor Norma,
So happy,
Lost in her silver heaven.
[NORMA continues to watch; and JOE watches her.]
NORMA:
They can't see where the future lies.
They don't recognize a star
[JOE is touched; he reaches out and takes her hand.]
[FADE TO BLACK]
Scene Eight
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[INTERIOR]
[The sound of heavy rain. It's daytime but dull enough
to need the lights on. JOE's typewriter is no longer on
the table but closed and standing on end on the foor. He's
alone in the great room, playing solitaire. MAX is at the
organ wearing his white gloves, playing. He looks up at the
audience, breaks off from his game.]
JOE:
In December, the rain came. One great big package, over-sized,
like everything else in California; it came right through the
roof of my room above the garage. So she had me move to the
main house. To what Max called "The room of the husbands". On
a clear day, the theory was, you could see Catalina. And little
by little I worked through the end of the script. At which
point I might have left; only by then those two boys from the
finance company had traced my car and towed it away.
[He resumes his game; all of a sudden NORMA, attended by MAX,
sweeps out of her room and down the stairs; she's holding a fat
typescript in her hand. She snaps at MAX.]
NORMA:
Stop that!
[MAX stops playing.]
NORMA:
Today's the day.
JOE:
What do you mean?
NORMA:
Max is going to deliver the script to Paramount.
JOE:
You're really going to give it to DeMille?
NORMA:
I've just spoken with my astrologer.
She read DeMillle's horoscope; she read mine.
JOE:
Did she read the script?
NORMA:
DeMille is Leo; I'm Scorpio. Mars is transiting Jupiter,
And today is the day of closest conjunction.
JOE:
Oh, well, that's all right, then.
NORMA:
Max.
[NORMA hands the typescript to MAX.]
NORMA:
Make sure it goes to Mr. DeMille in person.
MAX:
Yes, Madame.
[He leaves the house by the front door. There's
a silence; NORMA moves up and down in a state of
heightened emotion; JOE is steeling himself to
broach o difficult subject.]
JOE:
Well...
NORMA:
Great day.
JOE:
It's been real interesting.
NORMA:
Yes, hasn't it?
JOE:
I want to thank you for trusting me with your baby
NORMA:
Not at all, it's I who should thank you
[NORMA frowns; she turns to him, her expression bewildered.]
JOE:
Will you call and let me know as soon as you have some news?
NORMA:
Call? Where?
JOE:
My apartment.
NORMA:
Oh, but, you couldn't possibly think of leaving now, JOE.
JOE:
The script is finished, Norma.
NORMA:
No, JOE, it's beginning, it's the first draft; I couldn't
dream of letting you go, I need your support.
JOE:
Well...
NORMA:
You'll stay on with full salary, of course...
JOE:
It's not the money.
[NORMA now has a look of genuine panic on her face;
and JOE can see that some reassurance is essential.]
JOE:
Of course, I'll stay until we get some
sort of reaction from Paramount.
[He's on his feet now; and NORMA grips his hand
tightly for a moment.]
NORMA:
Thank you, JOE.
[She releases his hand; and moves off leaving him
a little shaken by this turn of events, his expression
rueful. He turns to the audience.]
JOE:
Well, Max climbed out that foreign bus in the garage, with
its gold-plated car phones and leopard-skin upholstery and
trundled down to Paramount to hand in our masterpiece. And
I settled down to wait for the inevitable rejection.
Scene Nine
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[EXTERIOR]
[MAX shows in an imposing, rather oily-looking men's
outfitter, MR. MANFRED, who's followed by a number of his
assistants carrying armfuls of boxes and teetering heaps
of clothing. As they begin to deploy around the room,
setting out their wares, NORMA bustles in from the patio.]
NORMA:
Hurry up, the birthday boy is on his way.
This is a surprise celebration
I hope you've remembered everything I've said
I want to see a total transformation.
[JOE wonders into the room: he stops in the doorway
startled by the unaccustomed crowd.]
JOE:
What's all this?
NORMA:
Happy birthday, darling. Did you think we'd forgotten?
JOE:
Well, I...
NORMA:
These people are from the best men's shop in town.
I had them close it down for the day.
JOE:
Norma, now listen...
NORMA:
I'll leave you boys to it.
[And before JOE can stop her, she's gone again.
MANFRED is already circling warily, trying to
assess his new customer; JOE looks at him, obviously
dismayed, a hint of rebellion in his expression.]
MANFRED:
Happy birthday, welcome to your shopathon!
JOE:
What's going on?
MANFRED:
Help yourself, it's all been taken care of.
Anyone who's anyone is dressed by me.
JOE:
Well, golly gee.
MANFRED:
Pick out anything you like a pair of.
You just point, I'll do the rest
I have brought nothing but the best
You're a very lucky writer
Come along now, get undressed
Unless I'm much mistaken
That's a 42-inch chest
JOE:
I don't understand a word you're saying.
MANFRED:
Well, all you need to know's the lady's paying.
It's nice to get your just reward this time of year.
JOE:
Get out of here!
MANFRED:
And all my merchandise is strictly Kosher.
When you've thrown away
All your old worn-out stuff,
JOE:
Hey, that's enough.
MANFRED:
Perhaps you'd like to model for my brochure.
I have just a thing for you chalk-stripe suits
SALESMAN 1:
In black
SALESMAN 2:
Or blue.
SALESMAN 3:
Glen paid trousers
SALESMAN 4:
Cashmere sweaters
SALESMAN 5:
Bathing shorts for Malibu.
SALESMAN 6:
Here's a patent leather lace-up
It's a virtuoso shoe.
MANFRED:
And a simply marvelous coat made of vicuna.
JOE:
You know what you can do with your vicuna.
[At this delicate point, NORMA saunters back into
the room. Oblivious to the atmosphere, she registers
only that no progress has been made.]
NORMA:
Come on, JOE, you haven't even started yet.
JOE:
You wanna bet?
NORMA:
I thought by now he'd look the height of fashion.
[She turns to MANFRED.]
NORMA:
He always takes forever making up his mind,
[And back to JOE.]
NORMA:
Don't be unkind,
I thought you writer knew about compassion.
[Impatient now, she plunges in among the clothes,
towing MANFRED in her wake.]
NORMA:
I love Flannel on a man.
[She picks out a beautiful pale jacket.]
MANFRED:
This will complement his tan.
[Now she's grabbing at shirts and trousers.]
NORMA:
We'll take two of these and four of those
MANFRED:
I'm still your greatest fan!
Very soon now we'll have stopped him
Looking like an also-ran
JOE:
You're going to make me sorry that I'm staying.
NORMA:
Well, all right. I'll choose, after all, I'm paying.
[She picks out more and more clothes, handing them
to the SALESMEN, JOE slouching sullenly behind her.]
MANFRED:
Evening clothes?
NORMA:
I want to see your most deluxe.
JOE:
Won't wear a tux
NORMA:
Of course not, dear, tuxedos are for waiters.
MANFRED:
What we need are tails, a white tie and top hat
JOE:
I can't wear that.
NORMA:
JOE, second-rate clothes are for second-raters.
JOE, I'm sick to death of that
Same old filling station shirt
And that boring baggy jacket
Stained with yesterday's dessert.
JOE:
I don't have to go to premieres,
I'm never on display.
You seem to forget that I'm a writer,
Who cares what you wear when you're a writer?
[But he's clearly weakening; and now
NORMA moves in for the kill.]
NORMA:
I care, JOE, and please don't be so mean to me.
JOE:
O.K. all right.
NORMA:
You can't come to my New Year's Eve party.
JOE:
I've been invited somewhere else on New Year's Eve.
NORMA:
But that's our night.
JOE:
I always see the New Years in with Artie.
NORMA:
I can't do without you, JOE, I need you
I've sent out every single invitation.
JOE:
All right, Norma, I give in.
NORMA:
Of course, you do.
And when they've dressed you
You'll cause a sensation.
[And with this she sweeps off, up the stairs.
JOE and MANFRED look at each other for a moment.
Finally, JOE shrugs and spreads his arms,
conceding. MANFRED snaps his fingers and the
SALESMEN descend on JOE, engulfing him, so that
he disappears in the scrimmage.]
SALESMEN:
We equip the chosen few of movieland.
MANFRED:
(The latest cut)
SALESMEN:
We dress every movie star and crooner.
From their shiny toecaps to their hatband
MANFRED:
(Conceal your gut)
You won't regret selecting the vicuna.
SALESMEN:
If you need a hand to shake
If there's a girl you want to make
If there's a soul you're out to capture
Or a heart you want to break
If you want the world to love you
MANFRED:
You'll have to learn to take
[The SALESMEN move away from JOE, to reveal
that he is now transformed, in full evening
dress, white tie and tails.]
SALESMEN:
You must decide what part you are portraying.
[MANFRED is now more or less cheek to cheek
with JOE. He leans forward with offensive
intimacy; the gloves are off.]
MANFRED:
And certain parts are worth the lady paying.
SALESMEN:
And why not have it all,
The lady's paying?
{BLACKOUT]
Scene Ten
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET/ARTIE GREEN'S APARTMENT
[NIGHT]
[JOE paces uneasily in his white tie and tails, as a
Palm Court quartet begins playing tango music. He pauses
to address the audience.]
JOE:
I couldn't imagine what sort of a gallery of waxworks Norma
had invited to her New Year's party; but she'd certainly gone
to town. I hadn't expected the place would look like Times Square.
[LIGHTS UP on the little orchestra, tucked in under
the stairs: the streamers, the trees in tubs, the floral
arrangements, the dozens of blazing candles. MAX appears
with a glass in one hand and a cocktail-shaker in the
other. He pours the martini and hands it to JOE. The
silence between them is somewhat oppressive; finally
when MAX returns with a tray of canapés, JOE breaks it:]
JOE:
So Max, I suppose half the guests will be
in wheelchairs, will they?
MAX:
I wouldn't know, sir. Madame made all the arrangements.
[Suddenly, NORMA appears at the top of the stairs in
a dazzling diamante evening gown with long black
gloves and bird of paradise feathers in her hair.
She begins a stately descent. JOE puts his glass
down and applauds. MAX watches discreetly, evidently
moved; he opens a bottle of champagne.
JOE waits to meet her at the bottom of the stairs.
He's reaching out to take her arm, when as if from
nowhere, she suddenly produces a gold cigarette case
and hands it to him.]
NORMA:
Here. Happy New Year.
JOE:
Norma, I can't take this.
NORMA:
Oh, shut up. Open it. Read what it says.
[JOE opens it and reads out, half-amused and half-appalled.]
JOE:
"Mad about the boy"
NORMA:
Yes, and you do look absolutely divine.
[JOE is touched, despite his embarrassment;
he decides to give in gracefully and slips
the cigarette case into his pocket.]
JOE:
Well, thank you.
[NORMA stretches out a hand to Lead JOE
on to the freshly-waxed tiled dance floor.]
NORMA:
I had these tiles put in, you know, because Valentino
said to me, it takes tiles to tango. Come along.
JOE:
No, no, not on the same floor as Valentino!
NORMA:
Just follow me.
[They begin to dance. After a while, NORMA snaps at JOE.]
NORMA:
Don't lean back like that.
JOE:
It's that thing. It tickles.
[NORMA pulls the feathers out of her hair and casts them aside.
They resume dancing, closer this time.]
NORMA:
Bring out the old,
Bring in the new,
A midnight wish
To share with you
Your lips are warm,
My head is light,
Were we alive
Before tonight?
I don't need a crowded ballroom,
Everything I want is here
If you're with me,
Next year will be
The perfect year.
[JOE is beginning to be aware what's happening;
still, at the some time, he's caught up in the
intoxication of the moment.]
JOE:
Before we play
Some dangerous game,
Before we fan
Some harmless flame,
We have to ask
If this is wise
And if the game
Is worth the prize
With this wine and with this music,
How can anything be clear?
Let's wait and see,
It may just be
The perfect year
[They dance]
NORMA:
It's New Year's Eve,
And hope are high,
Dance one year in,
Kiss one good-bye.
Another chance,
Another start,
So many dreams
To tease the heart.
We don't need a crowded ballroom,
Everything we want is here
And face to face,
We will embrace,
The perfect year.
We don't need a crowded ballroom,
Everything we want is here
And face to face,
We will embrace,
The perfect year.
[She kisses him lightly as the number comes to an end.
Then, as the orchestra strikes up the next piece, they
move off the floor to take up the glasses of champagne
which MAX had poured for them. They clink glasses and drink.]
JOE:
What time are they supposed to get here?
NORMA:
Who?
JOE:
The other guests.
NORMA:
There are no other guests. Just you and me.
[She leans in to kiss him again, this time more seriously,
MAX half turns away, averting his eyes.]
NORMA:
I'm in love with you, surely you know that.
[JOE is terribly startled by this; all he
can do is begin to bluster.]
JOE:
Norma, I'm the wrong guy for you; you need a big shot,
someone with polo ponies, a Valentino...
NORMA:
What you're trying to say is, you don't want me
to love you, isn't it?
[JOE doesn't answer; he looks away, avoiding her
eye. Thus, it takes him completely by surprise when
she slaps his face. And, before he can react, she's
turned and run all the way up the stairs to vanish
into her bedroom. JOE finds himself standing face to
face with Max.]
JOE:
Max. Get me a taxi.
[As MAX moves towards the phone, the house moves back
a way to reveal ARTIE's apartment, a modest one-room affair
pocked to the rafters with carefree young people, many of
whom we have already encountered at the studio and at Schwab's.
Several of the GUESTS cluster around the piano and there's
a BOY with a saxophone. Others help themselves to same
dangerous looking alcoholic concoction from a punchbowl.
The house at Sunset remains visible throughout.]
[As the new scene established itself,
JOE encases himself in his vicuna coat.]
JOE:
I had to get out,
I needed to be with people my own age,
To hear the sound of laughter
And mix with hungry actors,
Underemployed composers,
Nicotine-poisoned writers,
Real people,
Real problems,
Having a really good time.
[JOE hesitates in the doorway of the apartment, suddenly
embarrassed by how overdressed he is. Meanwhile, ARTIE hails
him and pushes through the crowd to greet him.]
ARTIE:
Hey, Gillis! We'd given you up.
Let me take your coat.
[BETTY by the piano, hears this and looks round, delighted
to see JOE. By now, ARTIE has reached him.]
ARTIE:
Jesus, JOE, what's this made of? Mink?
[He's even more surprised when the
coat comes off to reveal JOE's tails.]
ARTIE:
Who did you borrow this from? Adolphe Menjou?
JOE:
Close, but no cigar.
[He gestures around the room.]
JOE:
It's quite a crowd.
ARTIE:
I invited all the kids doing walk-ons in "Samson and Delilah".
BETTY:
I'm glad you came. I want to talk to you.
JOE:
Uh-oh.
[Before she can develop this, the boys and girls
around the piano launch into their song.]
RICHARD A.:
You gotta say your new year's
resolution out loud.
JEAN:
By this time next year,
I'll have landed a juicy part
STEVE:
Nineteen fifty will be my start
RICHARD T.:
No more carrying spears.
MARY:
I'll be discovered,
My life won't ever be the same
Billy Wilder will know my name
And he'll call all the time.
KATHERINE:
Till he does,
Can one of you guys lend her a dime?
ALISA:
Just an apartment
With no roaches and no dry rot
ANITA:
Where the hot water comes out hot
BOTH:
That's my Hollywood dream.
RICHARD A.
Your resolution
JOANNA
Is to write something that get shot
With approximately the plot
I first had in my head
MYRON:
But you'll get rewritten
Even after you're dead.
ARTIE:
It's the year to begin a new life,
Buy a place somewhere quiet,
Somewhere pretty.
When you have a young kid and a wife
Then you need somewhere green far from the city.
It's rambling old house with a big apple tree
With a swing for the kid and a hammock for me.
[The mood is broken, as a number of GIRLS, dressed as
the harem from SAMSON AND DELILAH burst squealing out of
the kitchen followed by SAMMY wearing jodhpurs and
knee-length riding boots and carrying o megaphone. He
adjusts his spectacles and assumes the grave, patriarchal
air of CECIL B. DEMILLE.]
SAMMY:
Behold, my children,
It is I, Cecil B. DeMille,
Meeting me must be quite a thrill,
ADAM
But there's no need to kneel.
SAMMY:
I guarantee you
Every girl in my chorus line
s a genuine Philistine
SANDY:
They don't come off the shelf
SAMMY:
I flew everyone in from Philistia myself.
[The girls dance a kind of parody Middle-Eastern bump and grind.]
JOE:
How's your next project?
BETTY:
SHELDRAKE's anxious to option it.
I've a feeling he smells a hit
We've got so much to do.
JOE:
BETTY, you're forgetting that I gave it to you.
[Two BOYS from the 'Samson' company have begun a ludicrous kind
of sand dance with tea-towels as loincloths and lampshades as fezzes.
Meanwhile, in the house, NORMA emerges from her room and descends the
stairs walking carefully as if holding herself together. MAX intercepts
her with a glass of champagne. She lights a cigarette, inserts it in
her holder-contraption and begins pacing up and down, listening to the
orchestra with half an ear.
Back at ARTIE's apartment, when the dance is over, JOE turns to ARTIE
and BETTY who are standing by the piano, their arms draped over each
other's shoulders.]
JOE:
You remind me of me long ago
Off the bus, full of ignorant ambition
Thought I'd waltz into some studio
And achieve overnight recognition.
But an audience thinks
When it's watching the screen,
That the actors make up every word
In the scene.
[At the house, NORMA drifts back upstairs with her glass
of champagne. MAX watches her leave, very concerned.]
BETTY:
I've done and outline,
But I can't write it on my own.
Can't we speak on the telephone?
All my evening are free.
ARTIE:
Hey, just a minute,
I'm the fellow who bought the ring
BETTY:
Artie, this is a business thing
It's important to me
You'll be on location in Clinch, Tennessee.
[She turns to JOE, talking with a real intensity.]
BETTY:
Please make this your New Year's
Resolution for me.
ALL:
By this time next year,
I will get my foot in the door
Next year I know I'm going to score
An amazing success
Cut to the moment
When they open the envelope
Pass the statuette to Bob Hope
And it's my name you hear.
We'll be down on our knees
Outside Grauman's Chinese
Palm prints there on the street
Immortality's neat!
This time next year,
This time next year.
We'll have nothing to fear
Contracts all signed
Three-picture deal
Yellow brick road career
Hope we're not still saying these things
This time next year.
[Back in the house, MAX is seized by a sudden fear.
Moving with surprising speed, he suddenly bounds up
the stair and disappears into NORMA's bedroom.]
JOE:
You know, I think I will be available in the New Year.
In fact, I'm available right now.
[He turns to ARTIE:]
JOE:
Where's your phone?
ARTIE:
Under the bar.
JOE:
Listen, could you put me up for a couple of weeks?
ARTIE:
It's just so happens we've have a vacancy on the couch.
JOE:
I'll take it.
[He pushes across to the phone, picks it up and dials.
He has to put o finger in his ear, because some new piece
of nonsense has started up in the room.
The phone rings in the house. It rings for some time then
MAX appears an the landing, where there's an extension,
looking unprecedenetly ramshackled and disheveled. He
picks up the receiver.]
MAX:
Yes?
JOE:
Max, it's Mr. Gillis, I want you to do me a favor.
MAX:
I'm sorry, I can't talk now, Mr. Gillis.
JOE:
Listen, I want you to get my old suitcase...
MAX:
I'm sorry, I'm attending to Madame.
JOE:
What do you mean?
MAX:
Madame found a razor in your room.
And she's cut her wrists.
[Shock. BETTY, meanwhile has been making her way over to
speak to him. She arrives by his side and is immediately
aware something is wrong.]
BETTY:
What's the matter?
[JOE stares at her as if he's never seen her before in his
life. Then, abruptly, he hangs up and, to BETTY's total
astonishment he pushes across the room disrupting the
cabaret, grabs his coat from the bookshelf where ARTIE has
carefully stowed it, and slams out of the apartment.
ARTIE's apartment dissolves; now it's the house again, the
little orchestra still playing to the empty room. Presently
MAX appears, supporting NORMA. Her wrists are heavily bandaged;
she looks much older, frail and shaky. With infinite tenderness,
MAX shepherds NORMA to the old sofa near the piano, out of
sight of the orchestra. He's made the necessary preparations
beforehand and now he drops to his knees and begins to bathe
her forehead and temples with a flannel dipped in iced water.
Suddenly, JOE bursts through the front door, panting and
extremely agitated. MAX rises; NORMA half sits up, glaring
at JOE.]
NORMA:
Go away.
JOE:
What kind of silly thing was that to do?
NORMA:
I'll do it again! I'll do it again! I'll do it again!
JOE:
Attractive headline:
"Great Star Killed Herself For An Unknown Writer."
NORMA:
Great star has great pride.
[She turns away from him. MAX, still anxious,
is moving back, melting into the background.]
NORMA:
You must have some girl; why don't you go to her?
JOE:
I never meant to hurt you, Norma. You've been good to me,
You're the only person in this stinking town that's ever
been good to me.
NORMA:
Then why don't you say thank you and go?
Go, go!
[JOE goes to the stairs as if to leave. The orchestra
segues into 'Auld Lang Syne' JOE goes to NORMA.]
JOE:
Happy New Year.
[She reaches up and wraps her bandaged arms around his neck.]
NORMA:
Happy New Year, darling.
[JOE leans forward; they kiss. He takes her bodily in his arms
and carries her up to the staircase. The orchestra plays on. MAX
watches from the shadows, his expression grave and inscrutable,
as JOE carries NORMA into her bedroom.]
[Through this, SLOW FADE TO BLACK]
ACT TWOScene Eleven
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[EXTERIOR]
[The exterior of the house in blazing sunshine. JOE, in sunglasses,
sipping a California cocktail, sits on a chaise-longue, in the shade
of a large umbrella.]
[He smiles smugly and addresses the audience.]
JOE:
Sure, I came out here
To make my name
Wanted my pool, my dose of fame
Wanted my parking space at Warner's
But after a year
A one-room hell
A Murphy bed
A rancid smell
Wallpaper peeling at the corners.
Sunset Boulevard,
Twisting Boulevard
Secretive and rich, a little scary.
Sunset Boulevard,
Tempting Boulevard
Waiting there to swallow the unwary
Dreams are not enough
To win a war
Out here they're always keeping score
Beneath the tan, the battle rages.
Smile a rented smile,
Fill someone glass
Kiss someone's wife,
Kiss someone's ass
We do whatever pays the wages.
Sunset Boulevard,
Headline Boulevard
Getting here is only the beginning.
Sunset Boulevard,
Jackpot Boulevard
Once you've won you have to go on winning.
You think I've sold out?
Dead right I've sold out.
I just keep waiting
For the right offer;
Comfortable quarters,
Regular rations,
24-hour,
Five-star room service.
And if I'm honest
I like the lady.
I can't help being
Touched by her folly.
I'm treading water,
Taking the money,
Watching her sunset...
Well, I'm a writer.
L.A.'s changed a lot
Over the years
Since those brave gold rush pioneers
Came in their creaky covered wagons.
Far as they could go
End of the line
Their dreams were yours,
Their dreams were mine
But in those dreams
Were hidden dragons
Sunset Boulevard,
Frenzied Boulevard
Swamped with every kind of false emotion.
Sunset Boulevard,
Brutal Boulevard
Just like you, we'll wind up in the ocean.
She was sinking fast,
I threw a rope
Now I have suits
And she has hope
It seemed an elegant solution.
One day this must end,
It isn't real
Still, I'll enjoy
A hearty meal
Before tomorrow's execution.
Sunset Boulevard,
Ruthless Boulevard
Destination for the stony-hearted.
Sunset Boulevard,
Lethal Boulevard
Everyone's forgotten how they started.
Here on Sunset Boulevard.
[He pours himself a glass of champagne from an open bottle.
As he's sipping at it, NORMA comes hurrying out of the house
in a state of high excitement.]
NORMA:
There's been a call.
What did I say?
They want to see me
Right away.
JOE, Paramount,
They love our child,
Mr. DeMille is going wild.
[JOE is a little surprised by this but manages
to conceal his skepticism almost at once.]
JOE:
Well, that's wonderful, Norma
NORMA:
But it was some fool assistant,
Not acceptable at all.
If he wants me, then Cecil B.
Himself must call.
[JOE shakes his head, a little disapproving.]
JOE:
I don't know if this is the time to stand on ceremony.
NORMA:
I've been waiting twenty years now
What's a few more days, my dear?
It's happened, JOE,
I told you so, the perfect year.
[She stretches out her hand to him, invitingly.]
NORMA:
Now, let's go upstairs.
JOE:
Shouldn't you at least call back?
NORMA:
No; they can wait until I'm good and ready.
Scene Twelve
ON THE HOUSE ROAD
JOE (V.O.):
It took her three days
And she was ready
She checked with her astrologer,
Who sacrifice a chicken.
She dressed up like a Pharaoh,
Slapped on a pound of make-up
And set forth in her chariot,
Poor Norma, so happy,
Re-entering her kingdom.
[The Isotta moves on in its deliberate way, trundling down the
middle of the road, blocking and irritating the other traffic.]
Scene Thirteen
PARAMOUNT
[The Isotta-Fraschini turns up off Bronson and pulls up
in front of the main gates. For the moment, nothing happens;
but MAX, it emerges, is engaged in important business,
staring fixedly into the rear view mirror.]
MAX (V.O.):
If you will pardon me, Madame,
The shadow over the left eye is not quite balanced.
NORMA: (V.O.)
Thank you, Max.
[She attends to it, using a handkerchief. Meanwhile MAX
sounds the horn impatiently. A young STUDIO GUARD breaks off
the conversation he's been having with an extra dressed as
an Indian brave.]
GUARD:
Hey, that's enough of that
MAX:
To see Mr. DeMille.
Open the gate.
GUARD:
Mr. DeMille is shooting.
You need an appointment
MAX:
This is Norma Desmond.
No appointment is necessary.
GUARD:
Norma, who?
[Meanwhile, however, NORMA has recognized JONES, who's
sitting on a wooden chair, reading a newspaper. She rolls
down the window.]
NORMA (OFFSTAGE):
Jonesy?
[JONES looks up, frowning; then his expression clears.]
JONES:
Why, if it isn't Miss Desmond.
How have you been, Miss Desmond?
NORMA (OFFSTAGE):
Fine, Jonesy, Open the gate
[JONES turns to his young colleague.]
JONES:
You heard Miss Desmond.
GUARD:
They don't have a pass.
[JONES shakes his head; and opens the barrier
himself. The car moves forward.]
JONES:
Stage 18, Miss Desmond.
NORMA (OFFSTAGE):
Thank you Jonesy.
And teach your friend some manners. Tell him without me
there wouldn't be any Paramount studio
JONES:
Get me Stage Eighteen. I have a message for Mr. DeMille.
[A scene-change reveals the cavernous interior of
Sound Stage 18, where the stand-ins far Victor Mature
and Hedy Lamarr are in position, in a blade of light,
on the grandiose 'Samson and Delilah' set. Mr. DeMille
recognizable from the parody version of Act I, confers
with his director of photography. He's interrupted by
one of his assistants, HEATHER, who approaches with
some trepidation.]
HEATHER:
Mr. DeMille?
DEMILLE:
What is it?
HEATHER:
Norma Desmond is here to see you, Mr. DeMille.
DEMILLE:
Norma Desmond?
HEATHER:
She's here at the studio.
DEMILLE:
It must be about that appalling script of hers.
What shall I say?
HEATHER:
Maybe I could give her a brush.
DEMILLE:
Thirty million fans have given her the brush.
Isn't that enough? Give me a minute.
[He turns back toward the set.
Meanwhile, NORMA has arrived outside the studio,
with MAX and JOE. She hesitates for a moment
gripping J0E's hand fiercely.]
NORMA:
Won't you come along, darling?
[JOE shakes his head.]
JOE:
It's your script. It's your show. Good luck.
NORMA:
Thank you, darling
[By this time, HEATHER has emerged from the
studio. She comes over to greet NORMA.]
HEATHER:
Miss Desmond.
[She leads NORMA into the studio. DEMILLE is waiting
just inside; he envelops her in his arms.]
DEMILLE:
Well, well, well.
NORMA:
Hello, Mr. DeMille
[A long embrace.]
NORMA:
Last time I saw you, we were some place terribly gay.
I was dancing on the table.
DEMILLE:
A lot of people were. Lindbergh had just landed.
[He starts to lead her into the studio.]
NORMA:
You read the script, of course.
DEMILLE:
Well, yes...
NORMA:
Now, I know how busy you are during shooting, but I really
think you could have picked up the phone yourself, Instead
of leaving it to some assistant.
DEMILLE:
I don't know what you mean, Norma.
NORMA:
Yes, you do.
DEMILLE:
Come on in.
[He leads her into the studio; a bewildering chaos of
activity, which at first stuns her. He shouts to be heard
above the cacophony. He hurries off. Slowly, as NORMA
looks around, the sound fades to nothing. She stands
there, looking around the old familiar space. Suddenly,
a VOICE rings out.]
VOICE:
Miss Desmond? Hey, Miss Desmond!
[NORMA looks up; up in the flies, balanced on the
walkway, is a quite elderly electrician.]
VOICE:
Up here, Miss Desmond; it's hog-eye!
NORMA:
Hog-eye! Well, hello!
HOG-EYE
Let's get a look at you.
[And so saying, he swivels one of the big lamps until it
finds her. She stands for a moment, isolated, bathed in light.
Then, murmuring among themselves, from all over the studio,
technicians, extras and stagehands, begin to converge on her.]
NORMA:
I don't know why I'm frightened.
I know my way around here
The cardboard trees,
The painted sea, the sound here,
Yes, a world to rediscover
But I'm not in any hurry,
And I need a moment.
The whispered conversations
In overcrowded hallways
The atmosphere
As thrilling here
As always.
Feel the early morning madness
Feel the magic in the making
Why, everything's as if
We never said
Goodbye.
I've spent so many morning
Just trying to resist you
I'm trembling now
You can't know how
I've missed you.
Miss the fairy-tale adventures
In the ever-spinning playground,
We were young together.
I'm coming out of make-up
The lights already burning
Not long until
The camera will
Start turning
And the early morning madness
And the magic in the making
Yes, everything is as if
We never said goodbye.
I don't want to be alone
That's all in the past,
This world has waited long enough
I've come home at last.
And this time will be bigger,
And brighter than we knew it
So watch me fly,
We all know I can do it.
Could I stop my hand from shaking?
Has there ever been a moment
With so much to live for?
The whispered conversations
In overcrowded hallways
So much to say
Not just today but always
We'll have early morning madness
We'll have magic in the making
Yes, everything's as if
We never said
Goodbye
Yes, everything's as if
We never said
Goodbye
We taught the world new ways to dream.
[Thc studio staff burst into spontaneous applause.
The focus shifts to outside the studio, where JOE has
moved off to lean against a wall, smoke a cigarette and
enjoy the passing parade. Suddenly he sees BETTY hurrying
past, a bundle of scripts under her arm. He grinds out
his cigarette and steps forward to intercept her surprising
her considerably.]
JOE:
Hi there, BETTY.
BETTY:
What are you doing?
JOE:
I'm out here for a meeting.
BETTY:
Where have you been keeping yourself?
JOE:
Someone's been doing it for me.
BETTY:
We should talk.
JOE:
Gotta run.
BETTY:
Hold it JOE,
I can't write this,
On my own
I thought you said you'd help me.
JOE:
I'm really sorry
New year's crisis.
Would you believe, a sick friend?
It's just not
A good time
Not right now.
BETTY:
Well when is a good time?
JOE:
I will call you, I promise.
[BETTY looks at him for a moment.]
BETTY:
I guess I'll have to trust you.
JOE:
Thanks. I woo t let you down.
[BETTY smiles at him and hurries on.]
[During all this, SHELDRAKE has entered. He stops,
having caught sight of the Isotta. He tries to catch
MAX's attention, but MAX deliberately ignores him.
Finally SHELDRAKE plants himself unavoidably in front
of him.]
SHELDRAKE:
Don't you work for Miss Desmond?
A couple of weeks ago, I was looking out of my office
window, I saw you driving onto the lot, and I said,
that's exactly the car I've been looking for. Great
for my Crosby picture. So, I made some inquiries,
and I've been calling for two weeks. Doesn't she
ever answer the phone?
MAX:
Go away!
SHELDRAKE:
It's so perfect, you don't find that kind of thing
outside of a museum. And we'll pay. I plan to offer
her...hundred dollars a week.
MAX:
Go away!
SHELDRAKE:
What are you, crazy?
MAX:
It's just not a good time,
Not right now...
[SHELDRAKE hurries off.]
[In the studio DEMILLE has been attempting to set up his shot.
Now, however, unable to ignore the kerfuffle surrounding NORMA,
he steps down and approaches her; NORMA turns to him, radiant]
NORMA:
Did you see
How they all came
Crowding around?
They still love me
And soon we'll be
Breaking new ground
Brave pioneers.
DEMILLE:
Those were the days.
NORMA:
Just like before.
DEMILLE:
We had such fun.
NORMA:
We gave the world
New ways to dream
BOTH:
We always found
New ways to dream
[The red light goes on and the studio bell strikes.
VICTOR MATURE and HEDI LAMARR arrive to take the
place of their identically costumed stand-ins.]
DEMILLE:
Let's have a good long talk one day.
NORMA:
The old team will be back in business.
DEMILLE:
Sorry, my next shot's ready.
MAX:
Mr. Gillis...
JOE:
What's the matter, Max?
MAX:
I just found out the reason for those phone calls from Paramount.
It's not Madame they want. It's her car.
JOE:
Oh, my God.
[DEMILLE and NORMA have reached the doorway of the studio.]
NORMA:
Now, you remember, don't you? I don't work before 10 or after
4.30 in the afternoon.
DEMILLE:
It isn't entirely my decision, Norma.
New York must be consulted.
NORMA:
That's fine. Ask any exhibitor in the country.
I'm not forgotten.
DEMILLE:
Of course you're not
[He embraces her]
DEMILLE:
Goodbye, young fellow. We'll see what we can do.
NORMA:
I'm not worried. It's so wonderful to be back.
[She turns and sweeps into the car, the door of
which MAX is already holding open. DEMILLE waves
goodbye to her; then, as the Isotta drives off, he
shakes his head, disturbed, and moves, preoccupied,
back into the studio. HEATHER is waiting for him.]
BETTY:
Was that really Norma Desmond?
DEMILLE:
It was.
HEATHER:
She must be a million years old.
DEMILLE:
I hate to think where that puts me.
I could be her father.
HEATHER:
Oh , I'm sorry, Mr. DeMille.
[The shot is ready; and everyone is waiting on DeMille's
orders; but he pauses for a moment, in pensive mood, his
hand on the back of his chair.]
DEMILLE:
If you could have seen
Her at seventeen
When all of her dreams were new,
Beautiful and strong,
Before it all went wrong;
She's never known the meaning of
Surrender;
Never known the meaning of surrender.
[SLOW FADE TO BACK]
Scene Fouteen
BETTY'S OFFICE
[Night on the Paramount lot. BETTY'S office is a Spartan affair,
one of a row of wooden cubicles suspended at first-floor level,
above the darkened streets of the back lot. BETTY sits behind her
desk, staring at her typewriter from which a piece of paper
protrudes; JOE, in his shirtsleeves, paces up and down holding a
pencil. Presently, as the silence extends, he crosses to look down
at the sheet of paper in his typewriter, frowns; then, his brow
clears as an idea occurs to him.]
JOE:
How about
They don't know each other,
He works the night shift
And she takes classes all day?
Here's the thing,
They both share the same room
Sleep in the same bed,
It work out cheaper that way.
BETTY:
Well, I've feeling you're just kidding
But to me it sounds believable
Makes a better opening than that
Car chase scene;
Girl meets boy,
Borrowing her toothbrush
Or oversleeping
Or at her sewing-machine.
[She's got up as the excitement over her ideas has gripped
her; and now JOE takes her place behind the typewriter.]
JOE:
You know, it's not bad, there are some real possibilities...
[BETTY picks up JOE's cigarette case. helps herself to
a cigarette and then notices the inscription.]
BETTY:
Who's Norma?
JOE:
Who's who?
BETTY:
Sorry, I don't usually read private cigarette cases.
JOE:
Norma's a friend of mine; middle-aged lady,
very foolish, very generous
BETTY:
I'll say; this is solid gold. "Mad about the boy"?
[JOE rises to his feet, thinks of a way to change the subject.]
JOE:
So how's Artie?
BETTY:
Stuck in Tennessee. It rains all the time,
they're weeks behind. No one know when
they'll get back.
JOE:
Good.
BETTY:
What's good about it?
I'm missing him something fierce.
JOE:
No, I mean this idea we had is really pretty good.
[He picks up the notebook, scribbles a note,
as BETTY moves back towards the desk.]
JOE:
Back to work
BETTY:
What if he's a teacher?
JOE:
Where does that get us?
Don't see what good it would do.
BETTY:
No, it's great,
If they do the same job
JOE:
So much in common,
They fall in love, wouldn't you?
BETTY:
Yes, but if he's just a teacher,
We lose those scenes in the factory.
JOE:
Not if he's a champion for the working man,
Girl likes boy, she respects his talent.
ENSEMBLE:
Working with someone
Can turn you into a fan.
JOE:
This is fun,
Writing with a partner.
BETTY:
Yes, and it could be...
JOE:
A helluva movie.
BETTY:
Can we really do this?
JOE:
I know that we can!
BETTY:
I know that we can!
Scene Fifteen
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[INTERIOR]
[The drawing room, gloomy and cavernous as ever. JOE sits under
one of the lamps, reading a book. NORMA, her face invisible,
lies face-down on the massage-table, covered only by a towel.
A giant MASSEUR is working on her legs; an immaculate BEAUTICIAN,
a blonde, is attending to her cuticles; and a woman ASTROLOGER in a
headscarf hovers about the top end of the table.]
ASTROLOGER:
I don't think you should shoot before July 15th.
Right now is a perilous time for Pisces.
If you wait 'til Venus is in Capricorn
You'll avoid a catalogue of crises.
[The MASSEUR drums away at her thighs.]
MASSEUR 1:
I need three more weeks
To get these thighs in shape
No more carbohydrates,
Don't be naughty
MASSEUR 2:
We'll soon have you skipping
Like an ingenue you won't look a day over forty.
[At this point, NORMA turns her face to look downstage and we
see that it's coated in some thick white gunk, with cucumber
slices on her eyes. Meanwhile, JOE puts his book down, checks his
watch, gets up and begins moving round the room, trying to appear
casual, but evidently looking for something.]
BEAUTICIAN 1
We have dry heat, we have steam
BEAUTICIAN 2:
We have moisturizing cream
BEAUTICIAN 3:
We have mud-packs, we have blood sacks.
BEAUTICIAN 2:
It's a rigorous regime
ALL:
Not a wrinkle when you twinkle
Or a wobble when you walk
BEAUTICIAN 3:
Of course, there bound to be a little suffering
ALL:
Eternal youth is worth a little suffering
ANALYST:
Listen to your superego not your id
Age is just another damn neurosis
I'll have you regressing back to infancy
And back into the womb under hypnosis
DOCTOR:
I inject the tissue of the fatal lamb
The formula's the one Somerset Maugham owns
Just a modest course of thirty-seven shots
And you will be a heaving mass of hormones.
ALL:
No more crow's feet, no more flab
No more love handles to grab
You'll be so thin they'll all think you're
Walking sideways like a crab.
Nothing sagging, nothing bagging,
Nothing dragging on the floor
Of course, there bound to be a little suffering
Eternal youth is worth a little suffering
Of course, there bound to be a little suffering
Eternal youth is worth a little suffering
Of course, there bound to be a little suffering
Eternal youth is worth a little suffering...
[With this the beauty team packs up and leave, shown
out by MAX. JOE still looking, winds up in NORMA'S vicinity.
She suddenly produces a script from under a towel.]
NORMA:
Is this what you're looking for, by any chance?
JOE:
Why, yes.
NORMA:
Whose phone number is this?
[JOE takes the script from her very sheepish, not answering.
NORMA rises from the massage table, gathering her towel about
her, peeling the cucumber slices from her eyes.]
NORMA:
I've been worried about the line of my throat.
I think this woman has done wonders with it.
JOE:
Good.
NORMA:
And I have lost half a pound since Tuesday.
JOE:
Very good.
NORMA:
Now it's after nine, I'd better get to bed.
JOE:
You had.
NORMA:
Are you coming up?
JOE:
I think I'll read a while longer.
NORMA:
You went out last night, didn't you, JOE?
JOE:
I went for a walk.
NORMA:
You took the car.
JOE:
I drove to the beach.
NORMA:
Who's Betty Schaeffer?
[Silence. Eventually, JOE shakes his head.]
JOE:
Surely, you don't want me to feel as if I'm a
prisoner in this house?
NORMA:
You don't understand JOE, I'm under a terrible strain.
It's been so hard I even got myself a revolver. The
only thing that stopped me from using it was the
thought of all those people waiting to see me back on
the screen. How could I disappoint them? All I ask is
a little patience, a little understanding.
JOE:
Norma, there's nothing to worry about,
I haven't done anything
NORMA:
Of course you haven't,
Good night, my darling.
[She kisses him tightly, as best she can in the
circumstances, and sets off upstairs, a bizarre figure
in her mask and white towel. JOE waits until she's
disappeared and gathers up his script. Then he turns
to the audience.]
JOE:
I should have stayed there, poor Norma,
So desperate to be ready
For what would never happen.
But BETTY would be waiting,
We had a script to finish
One unexpected love-scene
Two people,
Both risking
A kind of happy ending.
[He slips quietly out through the French doors. As he does so,
MAX, previously seen escorting the beauty team out, quite
unexpectedly emerges from the shadows of some recess in the room.
His expression is troubled.]
[Fade to black.]
Scene Sixteen
BETTY'S OFFICE & THE BACK LOT AT PARAMOUNT
[It's night again on the Paramount lot and BETTY is once
again at her typewriter; but this time there's some light
on the standing New York street set, which is being dressed
for action the following day. JOE watches as BETTY finishes
typing.]
BETTY:
T-H-E-E-N-D-!
I can't believe it, I've finished my first script!
JOE:
Oh, stop it, you're making me feel old.
BETTY:
It's exciting, though, isn't it?
JOE:
How old are you, anyway?
BETTY:
Twenty-two.
JOE:
Smart girl.
BETTY:
Shouldn't we open some champagne?
JOE:
Well, the best I can offer is a stroll to the water cooler
at the end of the lot.
BETTY:
Sounds good to me, [PAUSE]. I love the back lot here. All
cardboard, all hollow, all phony, all done with mirrors.
I think I love it more than any street in the world. I
spent my childhood here.
JOE:
What were you, a child actress?
BETTY:
But my family always expected me to become a great star.
I had 10 years of dramatic lessons, diction, dancing,
everything you can think of; and then the studio made a test.
JOE:
[Laughs]
That's the saddest story I ever heard.
BETTY:
No, it taught me some sense. I was born two blocks from here.
My father was head electrician at the studio until he died,
and my mother still works in wardrobe.
JOE:
Second generation, huh?
BETTY:
Third. Grandma did stunt work for Pearl White.
[As they walk down the Manhattan street, the stage
begins to revolve slowly, so that they end up walking
towards downstage; and the flimsy struts holding up
the substantial sets are gradually revealed.
JOE and BETTY walk in silence for a while; BETTY's
expression is deeply preoccupied. They come to a holtin
front of the watercooler.]
JOE:
I guess it's exciting, at that, finishing a script.
[He fixes a couple of papercups of water, and hands
one to BETTY, who's miles away and comes to with a start
when he touches her arm.]
BETTY:
What?
JOE:
Are you all right?
BETTY:
Sure.
JOE:
Something's the matter, isn't it?
[Pause. Then Betty blurts out.]
BETTY:
I had a telegram from Artie.
JOE:
Is something wrong?
BETTY:
He wants me to come out to Tennessee.
He says it would only cost two dollars to get married in Clinch.
JOE:
Well, what's stopping you? Now that we've finished the script...
[He breaks off, amazed to see that she's crying.]
JOE:
Why are you crying? You're getting married,
isn't that what you wanted?
BETTY:
Not any more.
JOE:
Don't you love Artie?
BETTY:
Of course I do. I'm just not in love
with him any more, that's all.
JOE:
Why not? What happened?
BETTY:
You did.
[Suddenly, they're in each other's arms. A long kiss.]
BETTY:
When I was a kid,
I played on this street,
I always loved illusion.
I thought make-believe
Was truer than life
But now it's all confusion
Please, can you tell me what's happening?
I just don't know any more.
If this IS real,
How should I feel?
What should I look for?
JOE:
If you were smart,
You would keep on walking
Out of my life
As fast as you can
I'm not the one
You should pin your hopes on,
You're falling for
The wrong kind of man.
This is crazy,
You know you should call it a day.
Sound advice, great advice,
Let's throw it away.
I can't control
All the things I'm feeling,
I haven't got a prayer
If I'm a fool,
Well, I'm too much in love
To care.
I knew where I was,
I'd given up hope,
Made friend with disillusion.
No one in my life,
But I look at you,
And now it's all confusion.
BETTY:
Please, can you tell me what's happening?
I just don't know any more.
If this is real,
How should I feel?
What should I look for?
I thought I had
Everything I needed
My life was set,
My dreams were in place,
My heart could see
Way into the future.
All of that goes
When I see your face.
I should hate you,
There I was, the world in my hand
Can one kiss kiss away
Everything I planned?
I can't control
All the things I'm feeling,
I'm floating in mid-air.
I know it's wrong,
But I'm too much in
Love to care
BOTH:
I thought I had
Everything I needed
My life was set,
My dreams were in place
My heart could see
Way into the future.
All of that goes
When I see your face.
This is crazy,
You know we should call it a day.
JOE:
Sound advice,
BETTY:
Great advice,
BOTH:
Let's throw it away.
I can't control
All the things I'm feeling.
We're floating in mid-air.
If we are fools, well, we're too much
In love to care.
If we are fools, well, we're too much
In love to care!
[They fall into each others arms and embrace passionately.
Then JOE leads BETTY by the hand back into the office. They
kiss again and it's obvious that they're about to make love.]
Scene Seventeen
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[EXTERIOR]
[It's late at night as JOE, in the Isotta, glides back into the
garage. He steps down from the car with a gleam in his eye and
a spring in his step; and is therefore thoroughly startled when
the sombre figure of MAX steps forward out of the darkness.
However, he recovers quickly. It's a murky night, wind rising,
rain threatening.]
JOE:
What's the matter there, Max,?
You waiting to wash the car?
MAX:
Please be careful when you cross the patio.
Madame may be watching.
JOE:
Suppose I tiptoe up to the back stairs and undress
in the dark, will that do it?
MAX:
It's just that I am greatly worried about Madame.
JOE:
Well, we're not helping any, feeding her lies and more lies.
What happens when she finds out they're not going to make
her picture?
MAX:
She never will. That is my job. I made her a star and I
will never let her be destroyed.
JOE:
You made her a star?
MAX:
I directed all her early pictures. In those days there
were three young directors who showed promises:
D. W. Griffith, Cecil B. DeMille and...
[JOE interrupts, as the realization suddenly dawns on him.]
JOE:
Max Von Mayerling.
MAX:
That's right.
[By now, they've moved out of the
garage on to the dimly lit patio.]
MAX:
When we met
She was a child,
Barely sixteen;
Awkward and yet
She had an air
I'd never seen.
I knew I'd found
My perfect face.
Deep in her eyes,
New ways to dream,
And we inspired
New ways to dream
Talkies came,
I stayed with her.
Look up this life,
Threw away fame.
[He hesitates, before steeling himself to go on,]
MAX:
Please understand
[A beat]
MAX:
She was my wife.
[Pause. JOE is staggered. MAX is
fighting back a wave of emotion.]
MAX:
We had achieved
Far more than most
We gave the world
New ways to dream.
Everyone needs
New ways to dream.
[JOE shakes his head, still incredulous.]
JOE:
You're telling me you were married to her?
MAX:
I was the first husband.
Scene Eighteen
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[INTERIOR]
[The main room comes into view; and NORMA, her face now
bare of make-up, wearing a white negligee, her expression
profoundly tormented, picks up the phone and dials.]
NORMA:
Hello, is this Gladstone 9281? Miss Schaeffer?
... Miss Schaeffer, you must forgive me for calling so late,
but I really feel it's my duty. It's about Mr. Gillis.
...You do know a Mr. Gillis? Well, exactly how much do you
know about him? Do you know where he lives? Do you know
what he lives on?
[At around this point, JOE, unseen by NORMA, steps in through
the French doors and freezes in the shadows, listening.]
NORMA:
I want to spare you
A lot of sadness.
I don't know what he's told you.
But I can guarantee you
He doesn't live with mother
Or what you'd call a room-mate.
He's just a...I can't say it.
Poor BETTY,
You ask him,
I'd love to hear his answer.
[She's completely taken by surprise,
as JOE snatches the receiver from her.]
JOE:
That's right, BETTY, why don't you ask me?
NORMA:
Don't...
JOE:
Or better yet, come over and see for yourself. Yes, right now.
The address is ten thousand eighty-six, Sunset Boulevard.
[He hangs up violently and turns to stare at NORMA
in furious silence. She flinches under his gaze.]
NORMA:
Don't hate me, JOE, I did it because I need you.
Look at me. Look at my hands. Look at my face.
Look under my eyes. How can I go back to work
if I'm wasting away?
[JOE says nothing, he's trying to control his rage.]
NORMA:
No! Don't stand there hating me, JOE.
Shout at me, strike me, but say you don't hate me.
[But JOE, who has been looking at her with an expression
of infinite contempt, deliberately turns his back on her.
A distant rumble of thunder; and an orchestral INTERLUDE
begins, during which the storm intensifies a torrential
tropical rain starts to fall, lightning flashes and NORMA
makes her way shakily up the stairs. JOE paces steeling
himself for the coming encounter. NORMA vanishes into her
bedroom, JOE finally slumps on the big sofa. Unseen by him,
NORMA re-emerges, quietly, on to the landing: she's holding
a revolver. She sinks to the floor and waits.
The shrill of the doorbell. JOE springs to his feet and
hurries to let BETTY in.]
JOE:
Come on in.
[He leads BETTY into the main room. She looks around for a
moment, unnerved by the size of the place.]
BETTY:
What's going on JOE?
Why am I so scared?
What was that woman saying?
She sounded so weird,
I don't understand...
Please can't you tell me what's happening?
Don't you love me any more?
Shall I just go?
Say something, JOE.
[NORMA moves stealthily forward, staring down
at BETTY through the balustrade.]
JOE:
Have some pink champagne
And caviar
When you go visit with a star,
The hospitality is stellar.
BETTY:
So this is where you're living?
JOE:
Yes, it's quite a place.
Sleeps seventeen
Eight sunken tubs
A movie screen
A bowling alley in the cellar.
BETTY:
I don't come to see a house, JOE.
JOE:
Sunset Boulevard
Cruise the Boulevard
Win yourself a Hollywood palazzo.
Sunset Boulevard
Mythic Boulevard
Valentino danced on the terrazzo.
BETTY:
Who's it belong to?
JOE:
Just look around you.
BETTY:
That's NORMA DESMOND.
[She's seen the big portrait above the fire place;
now JOE begins to draw her attention to some of the
innumerable other portraits, photographs and stills.]
JOE:
Right on the money
That's NORMA DESMOND
That's NORMA DESMOND
That's NORMA DESMOND
That's NORMA DESMOND.
BETTY:
Why did she call me?
JOE:
Give you three guesses.
It's the oldest story
In the book;
Come see the taker being took
The world is full of JOES and NORMAS.
Older women
Very well-to-do meets
Younger man
A standard cue
For two mechanical performers.
[BETTY puts a hand over his mouth.]
BETTY:
Just pack your things and let's go.
JOE:
You mean all my things?
Have you gone mad?
Leave all these things I've never had?
Leave the luxurious existence?
You want me to face
That one-room hell,
That Murphy bed,
That rancid smell,
Go back to living on subsistence?
It's no time to begin a new life,
Now I've finally made a perfect landing.
I'm afraid there's no room for a wife,
Not unless she's uniquely understanding
You should go back to ARTIE and marry the fool
And you'll always will be welcome to swim in my pool.
BETTY:
I can't look at you any more, Joe.
[She turns and rushes blindly out of the French door, leaving it
open. Wind and rain. JOE's head slowly sinks; he's overcome by a
wave of misery. Meanwhile on the landing, NORMA scrambles to her feet.
The revolver is no longer in evidence. She crosses the landing and
starts off down the stairs; a flutter of movement catches JOE's
eye and he turns. NORMA stops on the stairs, temporarily halted by
the fierceness of his expression, but as he moves towards her and
starts up the stairs, she stretches out a hand to him.]
NORMA:
Thank you, thank you, Joe, thank you.
[JOE brushes past her, brusquely shaking off her hand as she
touches his wrist and vanishing into his room. She stays where she
is, uncertain, unable to make sense of what's happening; and,
suddenly, JOE reappears. He's carrying his battered old typewriter.
Calm and unhurried, he starts off down the stairs again, as NORMA
stares wildly at him.]
NORMA:
What are you doing, Joe?
[He ignores her, continues to move evenly down the stairs.]
NORMA:
You're not leaving me?
JOE:
Yes, I am, Norma.
NORMA:
You can't! Max! Max!
JOE:
It's been a bundle of laughs
And thanks for the use of the trinkets.
[He takes the gold cigarette case out of
his pocket and hands it to her.]
JOE:
A little ritzy for the copy desk
Back in Dayton.
[He starts to move on, then turns back to her,
his expression serious.]
JOE:
And there's something you ought to know.
I want to do you this favor;
They'll never shoot that hopeless script of yours.
They only wanted your car.
[During this, MAX has entered, below.
He looks on, helpless.]
NORMA:
That's a lie! They still want me!
What about all my fan-mail?
JOE:
It's MAX who writes you letters,
Your audience has vanished.
They left when you weren't looking.
Nothing's wrong with being fifty
Unless you're acting twenty.
[He seta off down the stairs.]
NORMA:
I am the greatest star of them all!
JOE:
Goodbye, NORMA.
[He's spoken without looking back; so he doesn't see NORMA
fetch the revolver out of her pocket and point it at him.]
NORMA:
No one ever leaves a star!
[She fires. JOE looks extremely surprised, but carries on
walking for the moment apparently unaffected. At the bottom of
the stairs he let's go of the typewriter, which crashes down on
to the tiles. He staggers slightly, but carries on, out through
the French door. NORMA hurries after him. Outside the door, she
fires twice more. A flash of lightning is followed by a drum
roll of thunder. MAX moves forward to the centre of the stage,
aghast, for once completely at a loss.]
[SLOW FADE TO BLACK.]
Scene Nineteen
THE HOUSE ON SUNSET
[EXTERIOR]
[In the BLACKOUT, the orchestra plays NORMA's "Lullaby", and
soon the LIGHTS come up on the cold dawn of the opening scene.
There's been a semi-revolve. So that the garden is now visible,
bathed in an eerie glow, disrupted by the blue lights of the
the patrol cars. JOE's body floats, face-down, in the pool. The
entrance hall of the house is crowded with reporters, police,
newsreel crews with their cameras, all fired with eager
anticipation. MAX moves around the various groups, consulting
with policemen and cameramen.]
JOURNALIST:
[On the phone]
As day breaks over the murder house NORMA DESMOND, famed star of
yesteryear, is in a state of complete mental shock.
[Suddenly, all movement stops and all heads rise: NORMA has
emerged from her room on to the landing. She's dressed in some
strange approximation of a Salome costume and she's still holding
the revolver. There's an atmosphere of extreme apprehension below.
One of the uniformed POLICEMEN has brought out his gun; MAX leans
over to talk to the head of Homicide, a plainclothes detective.
She's clearly disorientated, in a world of her own, moving, lost
and bewildered, around the landing, letting out, unaccompanied by
the orchestra, old broken phrases of song.]
NORMA:
This was dawn.
I don't know why I'm frightened.
Silent music starts to play.
Happy new year, darling.
If you're with me, next year will be...
Next year will be...
They bring in his head on a silver tray.
She kisses his mouth...
She kisses his mouth...
Mad about the boy!
They'll say NORMA's back at last!
MAX:
Madame, the cameras have arrived.
NORMA:
Max, where am I?
MAX:
This is the staircase of the palace
And they're waiting for your dance.
NORMA:
Of course
Now I remember;
I was so frightened I might fall...
MAX:
You are the greatest star of all!
[She starts down the stairs; MAX cups a hand
to his mouth and springs into action.]
MAX:
Lights!
[The portable lights flare up. In addition, there's
the flash of countless flashbulbs. NORMA reacts, her
eyes widen, she drapes the scarf around her shoulders.]
MAX:
Cameras!
[The whir and grind of the old-fashioned Movietone cameras.]
MAX:
Action!
[And so, as the music swells, NORMA descends the staircase,
waving her arms in some strange rendition of Salome's approach
to the throne. However, half-way down, she suddenly comes to a
halt and begins to speak.]
NORMA:
I can't go on with the scene. I'm too happy.
May I say a few words, Mr. DeMille?
I can't tell you how wonderful it is to be back in the
studio making a picture, I promise you I'll never
desert you again.
I've spent so many evenings
Just trying to resist you
I'm trembling now
You can't know how
I've missed you,
Could I stop my hand from shaking?
Has there ever been a moment
With so much to live for?
This is my life. It always will be.
There is nothing else. Just us and the cameras
and all you wonderful people out there in the dark.
And now, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for close-up.
[She continues down the staircase as
'WITH ONE LOOK' swells to a climax.]
NORMA:
This time I'm staying
I'm staying for good
I'll be back
Where I was born to be
With one look I be me...
[DARKNESS]
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Sunset Boulevard
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