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Gangs of New York (2002) |
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by Jay Cocks, Steven Zaillian, Kenneth Lonergan. |
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3rd Draft (1993). |
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INT. ROOM OLD BREWERY DAY |
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Half in shadow, a man named VALLON, dressed in black, fastens a clean |
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white clerical collar around his thick neck. He raises a jagged razor to |
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his face, RAKES it across his right cheek, drawing BLOOD. He does not |
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flinch. |
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The sharp SCRAPING of the jagged blade against skin is the first SOUND we |
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hear. |
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VALLON cuts himself similarly on the left cheek, then hands the razor |
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ceremoniously to a BOY standing beside him. The boy, no more than twelve |
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years old, looks at VALLON worshipfully, keen eyes shining with fear and |
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excitement. He starts to wipe the razor blade on the bottom of his jacket. |
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VALLON |
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No. Never. The blood stays on the blade, son. |
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He hands the boy a dark red velvet pouch. Very carefully, the boy, known |
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as AMSTERDAM, wraps the razor up, hands it back to his father. |
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From the shadows, VALLON now raises a long pole with a beautiful golden |
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crucifix mounted on the end, then holds his free hand out to his son. |
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Amsterdam squeezes tight. |
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VALLON nods toward the door. Amsterdam pulls it open. Outside is a dim |
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hallway. We hear SOUNDS that might be animal or human. |
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MUSIC begins: a steady, driving cadence somewhere between a march and a |
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hymn. |
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CUT TO |
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2 INT. HALLWAY |
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VALLON strides in long measured steps. Amsterdam has trouble keeping up |
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with him. |
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They are walking down a long corridor that's like a tunnel. Patches of |
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LIGHT stain the darkness. Sometimes Amsterdam glimpses a FACE peering out |
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from the gloom. Once or twice he almost stumbles over a BODY stretched |
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across his path. |
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CUT TO |
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3 INT. ROOM |
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Another room, even smaller. The only decoration is a bizarre rendering of |
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a Madonna and child painted on the wall. |
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A beefy man picks up a home-made PIKE, its iron tip sharpened to a lethal |
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point. He is smiling. The grin is huge, but cockeyed. It occupies only |
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half of his face. The grotesque, unending grin is the result of facial |
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paralysis, and has given him a nickname: HAPPY JACK MULRANEY. |
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Jack lifts the pike carefully, then takes a candle from the wall and bends |
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down over a wooden cage full of rabbits. He slowly moves the candle back |
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and forth across the cage top. Wax falls on the cage, splattering an |
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unlucky rabbit. |
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Jack thrusts the pike between the wooden bars, impaling the rabbit's body. |
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He pulls the pike from the cage and leaves. |
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CUT TO |
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4 INT. HALLWAY |
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Jack falls into step beside VALLON and Amsterdam. He holds the pike with |
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the dead rabbit high, next to VALLON's cross. |
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HAPPY JACK |
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Did you bring the boy for a charm, Priest? |
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VALLON |
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No, Jack. For a baptism. |
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Now a WOMAN joins them. She's dressed in man's clothes, her pants held up |
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by suspenders. She wears a set of IRON CLAWS. |
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MUSIC builds, growing more insistent and more ominous. |
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Now a figure looms before them. Over his street clothes, this WARRIOR |
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wears a rig of home-made armor made from fracgments of steel, lengths of |
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chain and bits of leather. He carries a battle-axe as lightly as if it |
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were a twig. |
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RABBIT WARRIOR |
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We'll send a few across the river today, Priest. |
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He joins the procession. Another woman, as tough as the first and half |
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again as large, and several more men, all armed with implements of |
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destruction, fall in beside him. Their faces are marked with blood, like |
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Vallan's, or covered with ritual markings made with paint and ink. |
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The group grows ever larger and more forbidding. occasionally PEOPLE dart |
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around them in the tunnel and scamper out of their way like animals |
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frightened in a burrow. |
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CUT TO |
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5 INT. ROOM |
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Vast and dank, like a cavern. We start CLOSE on... |
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... the body of a dead rat being filled with some pieces of lead. |
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Then a little WIDER to reveal: an eager boy, SHANG DRAPER, about the same |
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age as Amsterdam. He drops the last few pieces of lead into the mouth of |
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the rat, then sews it closed. He hefts the animal by the tail, swinging it |
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as he stands up. |
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He is near a primitive forge where a half-drunk SLACKSMITH hammers crude |
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weapons into shape and distributes them to OTHER MEN and WOMEN. The floor |
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is covered with bits of lead and steel, which Shang has been using to sew |
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into his rat. |
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Shang FOLLOWS the crowd of men and women with their weapons. And now we |
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see this room full. It is huge: the main room of the Old Brewery, crowded |
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with families huddled together for warmth and comfort, or out of fear; men |
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and women, together or separately, drunk or passed out. They are like zoo |
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animals in a pit. There are sticks of furniture jammed in corners, or, |
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more often, arranged at angles in the middle of the room to form tiny |
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enclaves where the ancient brewery machinery forms irregular boundaries. |
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Above Shang's head, VALLON and his gang walk across a plank bridge that |
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spans the room a hundred feet beneath them. Armed men and women from the |
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Brewery are climbing a rope ladder to join them. Shang SCURRIES up after |
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them. |
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The men and women from the Brewery fall in behind VALLON and the others in |
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the lead. Shang SPOTS someone near his own age toward the front: |
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Amsterdam. He presses through the crowd like a hunting dog. |
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SHANG |
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What's the fight? |
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AMSTERDAM |
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The Dead Rabbits against the Native Americans, same as ever. But it'll all |
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be settled today. |
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SHANG |
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Are you Native or Rabbit? |
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AMSTERDAM |
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(points to rabbit on pike) |
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What do you think? |
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SHANG |
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Looks alright. I'll stand by you, then. |
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CUT TO |
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6 INT. HALLWAY |
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The group now turns down the last corridor, as dim and long as a tunnel. |
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In the distance, there's a faint glimmer of light and the figure of a MAN |
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(MONK EASTMAN). VALLON stops near the door. |
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VALLON |
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I don't know you. |
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MAN |
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(lightly) |
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I suppose there's to be a fight. |
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VALLON catches the heavy Celtic inflection in the man's voice. |
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VALLON |
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Derry? |
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MAN |
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Donnegal. Name's Monk Eastman. |
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VALLON |
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And you want to fight, Mr. Eastman? |
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MONK |
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lf there's money in it. |
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VALLON |
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Fight for the Natives. They have a proper war chest. |
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MONK |
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Well, I might at that. But I thought I'd ask you first, seeing as how I'm |
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not quite a Native American myself. |
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VALLON |
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Let's see your skills, and we'll talk of payment later. |
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MONK |
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Fine. But if you like what you see, pay me double. |
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Monk turns to the door with the grace of a dancer and delivers a |
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SHATTERING kick, sending it flying off its hinges. Clear white LIGHT |
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streams in, and we see Monk Eastman plain for the first time: a huge man, |
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in stature and girth, wearing a small DERBY that intentionally makes his |
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head look even bigger. |
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VALLON |
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(as the door splinters settle) |
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Stand with us then. |
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CUT TO |
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7 EXT. STREET DAY (WINTER) |
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WINTER WIND blows across a scene as strange and bleak as an alien planet. |
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VALLON, carrying his cross high, steps through the doorway. The OTHERS |
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slowly follow VALLON out of the building, which is three stories high and |
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maybe a block long. A dilapidated sign identifies it as the 5 Paints |
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Brewery. |
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It is the tallest structure in the midst of low, squalid SHACKS, winding |
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ALLEYS as narrow as a snakels back, and DIRT STREETS filled with ruts, mud |
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and filthy snow. A few PIGS wander forlornly about, rooting for garbage. |
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WASH hangs stiff, in the middle of the square, from a peculiar monument |
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erected to some forgotten war hero. |
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The Brewery occupies one side of a SQUARE surrounded by some storefronts |
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and a couple of collapsed wooden sidewalks. If this place resembles |
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anything at all, it's a horrible hybrid of London's Limehouse and a |
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pioneer town in the American West whose best days have long passed--or |
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never came at all. |
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VALLON stands still, staring across the square past the monument. His |
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battalion of irregulars waits for his signal. |
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Now... very, very slowly...from around both sides of the monument comes |
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ANOTHER GANG, in size the same as VALLON's, men and women both, armed like |
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Visigoths with HOMEMADE WEAPONS: knives, pitchforks, building blocks and |
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bricks, boards with sharp nails protruding from the ends. Every member of |
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this second group is dressed in a long DUSTER which reaches to the ankles. |
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Several MEN in front of the group sport dusters made of leather. |
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VALLON |
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Bill Poole! on whose challenge are we assembled? |
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A MAN in a leather duster (BILL THE BUTCHER) steps forward. He is young, |
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lean and fierce. And then there are his eyes. They do not match. One is |
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real. The other is a huge, bulging PEARL upon which has been engraved, |
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instead of a pupil, a full-color portrait of the AMERICAN EAGLE. |
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On the side of the square, arranged to get a good view of the impending |
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combat, is a group of STREET KIDS, girls and boys, none older than eight. |
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They talk and laugh excitedly among themselves, picking their own |
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favorites among the gangs as if the warriors were players on a team. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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On the challenge of the Native Americans, to settle for good and all who |
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holds sway. |
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VALLON |
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Bene. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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By the ancient laws of combat, we offer our bodies to the ghosts of those |
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warriors who have gone before us. Valor is avid for glory, and glory is in |
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our wounds. |
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VALLON |
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But this time can you bear to look on the glory when it comes, Bill? Can |
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you see it clear with your single eye? |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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Whoever fights untouched in battle has skill, but the warrior who returns |
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wounded has been touched by God. |
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VALLON |
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It wasn't God who touched your eye. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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It was God gave me guidance. Will you be able to look on the death blow |
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like a gladiator, and not look away? No honorable man turns an eye from |
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his death. |
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VALLON |
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I don't expect a death blow from your hand, Butcher. Let's have at it. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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There is another matter. |
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VALLON |
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Say it out and quick, before spring gets here. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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No Native American Warrior will dishonor himself with the blood of the |
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halt and maimed. |
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VALLON |
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So? |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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So we would like to know whether Squire Jack Mulraney of the Dead Rabbits |
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can smile out of both sides of his face. |
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A pause of a single second. Then HAPPY JACK takes the dead rabbit off the |
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tip of his pike and hurls it across the square. It lands right at BILL THE |
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BUTCHER's feet. |
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In a flash, BILL THE BUTCHER opens his coat. Inside, on a special belt he |
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carries a CLEAVER, a CARVING KNIFE and other instruments of the butcherls |
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trade, all stained with blood and gristle. Now the MAN standing next to |
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him removes the broad BELT from around his coat. The brass buckle is |
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sharpened to a point, the leather studded with glass. |
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The gallery of Street Kids tenses for action: they are thrilled. |
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VALLON reaches up to the CROSS, pulls off the top piece, to disclose, |
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underneath, a gleaming sword point. He folds the arms of the cross down, |
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like the blades of a jackknife. |
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VALLON |
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Prepare to receive the Lord. |
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And the air is full of screams and battle cries as the two gangs hurl |
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across Paradise Square into BATTLE. |
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VALLON draws first blood. He impales a Native American on the sword end of |
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his cross and turns to fight again. |
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Amsterdam and Shang exchange a glance of frightened, worried wonder. |
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Then a Native American rushes at them, shouting for blood. The boys act |
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together. Amsterdam dives down in front of the man, sending him sprawling. |
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Shang BLUDGEONS the fallen warrior, using his lead-filled rat like a |
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blackjack as Amsterdam kicks him savagely; the Native collapses |
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unconscicus at their feet. Before the boys can thank one another, however, |
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they are separaten by the SURGING GANGS all around them. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER leaves his meat CLEAVER imbedded in the middle of a man's |
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skull, then WADES through the combat as if shielded by a charm. |
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The gallery of Street Kids is thrilled by this display and reacts with |
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CHEERS. |
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VALLON BATTLES three Natives who come at him at once. |
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Monk Eastman grabs a Native in his arms like a groom hugging a bride. He |
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raises his knee and brings the man crashing down across it, BREAKING his |
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spine like a Thanksgiving wishbone. |
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The gallery of Street Kids is awed by this display of power from a new |
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star in the making. |
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The Rabbit Warrior in the home-made armor grins at an intrepid Native and |
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lowers his battle-axe. The Native rushes as the |
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Rabbit Warrior swings and SEPARATES the man from his legs. |
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A NATIVE WOMAN lowers her head and charges her Dead Rabbit adversary, |
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delivering a shattering BUTT to his stomach. |
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A NATIVE BOY holds a rusty old pistol, which he uses at pointblank range |
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against several Rabbits. |
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A RABBIT WOMAN flies into a Native, using her IRON FINGER EXTENSIONS to |
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GOUGE his face. |
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The NATIVE with the deadly belt uses it to TEAR a piece out of a Rabbit's |
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face. |
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Amsterdam, beginning now to be overwhelmed by the hellish fight, looks |
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around in growing PANIC for his father. |
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SHANG uses his lead-rat blackjack to clear an escape back toward the |
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Brewery. The Street Kids can tell he's trying to escape, and start BOOING |
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him... |
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... as Shang's GRABBED from behind and pulled off his feet by a PEG-LEGGED |
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NATIVE. He THROWS the boy to the ground and pins him by holding the |
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sword-sharp point of his wooden leg against Shang's throat. |
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SHANG |
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(desperate) |
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I run with you! I'm one of you! Born a Native American from the blood of |
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five generations! |
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PEG-LEG |
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Yeah? Then you oughta be a red Indian. |
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He pushes down. Shang starts to bleed. But now PEG LEG is distracted by |
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the sudden SOUND of bells and whistles. He watches the BOY trembling on |
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the ground, then moves off him, making for the sound of the bell, leaving |
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the BOY quaking. |
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The SOUND grows louder as TWO HORSE-DRAWN CARTS full of battle ready |
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POLICE tear around the curve of a narrow thoroughfare and stop in Paradise |
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Square. |
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The BELLS on the carts toll loudly and work magic. The fighting stops. |
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The POLICE, all carrying clubs and wearing leather helmets, LEAP OFF the |
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wagons. |
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There are several moments of ABSOLUTE SILENCE, broken only by the SOUND of |
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the wind and the GROANS of the wounded. |
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Then, as one, the Dead Rabbits and the Native Americans RUSH the police |
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together, hurtling stones and brandishing weapons. Even the Street Kids |
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get into the act, kicking and biting and generally having a fine time. |
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The gangs SWARM all over the police, driving them back. Some lucky cops |
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climb back on the wagons and try to get away. The unlucky police remain |
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behind, dead on the ground. |
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The GANGS cheer, jeer and continue to throw things at the retreating |
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POLICE. When the second wagon disappears from view, the GANGS confront |
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each other once again. |
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Another brief moment of QUIET. The Street Kids settle back into their |
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spectator role. Then the GANGS go at each other with fresh intensity. |
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Amsterdam finally SEES his father and starts to PUSH his way toward him. |
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VALLON and BILL THE BUTCHER stand facing each other in the midst of battle |
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like two titans: then they rush at each other, joining with a terrible |
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fury. |
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Shang, still blindly SWINGING his blackjack, makes his way closer to the |
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relative safety of the Brewery, his face stained with tears of fear. He |
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hits someone. The MAN turns, swats him down. Shang sprawls on the street, |
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which is a SWAMP of mud and blood and dirty snow, and finds himself face |
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to face with a departed PEG LEG. Someone has removed his artificial limb |
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and driven it through his heart. |
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Across the square, Amsterdam has reached his father in time to see a |
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NATIVE AMERICAN sneaking up behind him. Amsterdam grabs a long TRUNCHEON |
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from a fallen warrior and uses it to hit the man a strong blow behind the |
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knees. |
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The MAN falls, howling. AMSTERDAM HITS him again. And again. He is |
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hysterical. |
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VALLON and BILL THE BUTCHER keep fighting. Amsterdam sees, with a single |
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look, that his father is in the fight of his life. He looks for a weapon |
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to help... |
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... sees a HATCHET lying by the body of the Rabbit he has just beaten |
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senseless. He grabs it and runs forward, looking for an opening between |
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the Butcher and his father... |
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As the two combatants move, Amsterdam MOVES. Bobbing, weaving, feinting, |
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falling back... looking for his chance... |
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... as Bill deals VALLON a blow that ROCKS him back and throws him off |
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balance... |
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...just as Amsterdam has made his move. He RUSHES forward, sees his father |
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FALLING, tries to turn but... |
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... too late. The boy's hatchet SLASHES his father in the leg. VALLON |
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falls to one knee, gestures frantically to the stunned Amsterdam to get |
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away... |
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... and Bill is upon VALLON, SINKING his knife into his chest. VALLON |
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screams and falls on his back, Bill kneeling over him. He looks into his |
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enemy's eyes ... and VALLON's EYES LOCK ON HIS. For all his suffering, |
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VALLON's eyes HOLD Bill ... he forces himself to look at Bill...it's a |
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terrible struggle... but VALLON will not look away. |
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Amsterdam, hysterical, RUSHES at the Butcher. The Butcher grabs Amsterdam |
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by the arm, making him drop his hatchet. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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You need a weapon? Use a knife. |
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He puts the struggling boy's hand on the hilt of the knife that the |
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Butcher sunk into his father's chest. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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It makes a deeper cut. |
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And, HIS HAND GUIDING THE BOY'S, he RAMS his knife deep into VALLON's |
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heart. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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Say a benediction, Priest. |
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VALLON bellows in agony. Amsterdam screams at the very same moment, his |
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cry mingling with his fatherls tearing through the air. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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(to Amsterdam) |
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Hold this close to mind, boy, should you ever think of going up against |
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the Native Americans. |
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Bill the Butcher rises and all around him, as if on some mysterious |
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signal, the fighting subsides. A DEAD RABBIT sees the fallen Vallon, takes |
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a battered brass HORN from his belt and sounds THREE NOTES, quick and |
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sharp. As the notes fade away, the fighting stops completely. |
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BILL THE BUTCHER |
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(announcing) |
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Ears and noses will be trophies of the day. |
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The Rabbits SCAMPER to collect their dead and wounded before the Natives |
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can get to them to slice off the battle souvenirs. But there are many |
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corpses maimed. The Street Kids DISPERSE. The main battle is over, and the |
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Natives have clearly carried the day. |
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The Rabbits file past Vallon, rorming a protective CIRCLE around him. |
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Amsterdam kneels at his side. Vallon tries to speak. Blood bubbles in his |
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throat. |
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VALLON |
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Can't..can't cross the river... with steel through my heart. |
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Amsterdam looks around. None of the Rabbits makes a move. This is clearly |
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something he is meant to do himself. |
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Amsterdam grabs the tortoise handle of the knife, PULLS on it. Vallon |
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tries not to cry out. The knife does not move. |
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Amsterdam tries again. He can't budge the knife. Vallon MOANS. Nearly |
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wild, Amsterdam PULLS with all his strength. Vallon SCREAMS in agony. |
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Amsterdam is pulling so hard he raises his father's back four inches off |
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the ground. Still the knife will not move. Vallon passes out from the pain. |
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Now, finally, someone steps forward: Monk Eastman. He leans over but |
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Amsterdam, berserk with grief, pushes him away, turns back to his father, |
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and, with a last desperate pull, DRAWS the knife from his father's heart. |
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He throws it on the ground. Monk picks it up, wipes the blade on his arm, |
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closes the knife and hands it to Amsterdam. |
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MONK |
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That's yours, rightfully. |
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Now Monk leans over the lifeless body and reaches inside Vallon's coat, |
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REMOVING some money. |
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MONK |
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And this is mine. Only what's owed. Use the rest for funeral. |
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AMSTERDAM |
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No! |
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He tries to shove Monk away from his father, when the Native Warrior |
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intervenes. |
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HAPPY JACK |
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It's fair. |
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Amsterdam, wild with shock and grief, turns back to his father as Monk |
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takes what's owed him. Amsterdam bends over to KISS Vallon on both cheeks, |
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then on his left eye. |
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The boy is just about to kiss his fatheros closed right eye when the lid |
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springs OPEN - Amsterdam jumps back despite himself. Vallon stares at him: |
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a last moment of recognition. |
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VALLON |
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Hon ... |
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AMSTERDAM |
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No, Pa! |
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VALLON |
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... honor me... think of me ... don't never look away. |
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Vallon convulses and DIES. Amsterdam shakes him to revive him. |
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RABBIT WOMAN |
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Take the body. Bring the boy. |
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Several RABBITS take a step or two forward, but Amsterdam springs up at |
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them, like an animal. |
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RABBIT WARRIOR |
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Come an, lad. Therels nothing to be done now. |
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AMSTERDAM |
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Get away! Get away! |
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HAPPY JACK |
|
Leave him be. He's his to mourn. |
|
|
|
And the RABBITS turn away, going back to the Old Brewery or vanishing down |
|
the narrow streets. |
|
Now a few CITIZENS venture out into Paradise square. A couple of |
|
SCAVENGERS scoot about, looting bodies. |
|
Amsterdam stays in the center of the square unmoving, undisturbed, keeping |
|
solitary vigil over his father. |
|
|
|
A TITLE is superimposed across this scene: |
|
|
|
NEW YORK CITY 1844 |
|
|
|
8 EXT. HARBOR DAY WINTER (MATTE) |
|
|
|
The same afternoon. As the sun goes down, we have our first full look |
|
(MATTE) at the low pale outlines of the city. |
|
The harbor is crowded with the high masts of sailing ships. Just north of |
|
the island tip is the steeple of the city's tallest structure, Trinity |
|
Church. The buildings of Wall Street are masses of concrete and wood, the |
|
streets surrounding them paved with cobblestones. Just above the financial |
|
district are the sloping buildings and rutted avenue of the Five Points . |
|
The Old Brewery stands tall and forbidding over Paradise Square. |
|
Above the Five Points, in the distance, we can glimpse some finer, newer |
|
buildings. One wide street--Broadway--seems to run from the very tip of |
|
the island clear up into the woods just a few miles north of the harbor. |
|
The only SOUNDS are the lapping of the harbor water against the boats, the |
|
creaking of masts in the winter WIND. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
9 EXT. HARBOR DAY |
|
|
|
A closer view - The TITLE fades off. We see an imposing edifice on the |
|
edge of the harbor with a wooden sign identifying: "IMMIGRATION |
|
DEPARTMENT, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA." |
|
The sun has nearly set. A boy--about 10 years old--sits on the edge of the |
|
Castle Garden dock, gazing down at the frozen Hudson. He can just about |
|
make out his reflection in the dull sheen of the ice. His name is JOHNNY |
|
SIROCCO, and he watches himself with bewildered seriousness. |
|
Abruptly, he reaches down and SMASHES through the ice with his fist. In |
|
SLOW MOTION, we watch the ice fragments drift apart in the river current, |
|
each bearing away a REFLECTION of Johnnyls face, like pieces of a puzzle. |
|
|
|
POLICEMAN |
|
Where's your family, sonny? |
|
|
|
Johnny sees a POLICEMAN scrutinizing him. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(lilting brogue) |
|
My mother's just there. |
|
|
|
He gestures toward a ship, where MEN are unloading cargo. In a hoist, they |
|
are lowering a thin pine COFFIN to dockside. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
On the trip, her insides all broke up. She wasn't dead and there was three |
|
others fighting for her bed. |
|
|
|
POLICEMAN |
|
And your father? Where's he, then? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I never knew him. |
|
|
|
POLICEMAN |
|
(taking Johnny's hand) |
|
|
|
We better see to you, then. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
10 EXT. STREET NIGHT |
|
|
|
The Policeman leads an awed Johnny through the TEEMING streets of the Five |
|
Points. |
|
|
|
POLICEMAN |
|
Where all those streets come together right ahead is the true Five Points. |
|
But most speak of the Five Points and mean anywhere between the Battery |
|
and the Bowery. |
|
Although the night's cold, the streets are jammed. WHORES painted like |
|
carnival Gypsies sell themselves to any man sober enough to stand up. |
|
SOUNDS of laughter and combat filter out from garish SALOONS like the |
|
Little Naples, the Hell Hole, the Egyptian Hall. |
|
In the midst of all this highlife are BEGGARS and the SICKLY, looking for |
|
charity, scrounging garbage in the street. An INDIGENT battles a CRIPPLE |
|
for a meager scrap of faod. A richly dressed WOMAN, riding by in a |
|
carriage, hides her eyes by raising a HUGE BOUQUET OF FLOWERS in front of |
|
her face. |
|
|
|
POLICEMAN |
|
Streets hereabouts are lively of an evening. The city comes here to sport. |
|
But there's places to put up a boy on his own. |
|
|
|
Three WOMEN, exquisitely costed, burst from the door of the Egyptian Hall. |
|
Under the harsh glare of a nearby gas lamp, their faces are no longer |
|
striking. Johnny STARES; there is something not right about these faces. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
And those? What are those? |
|
|
|
POLICEMAN |
|
Well, those. Those are, as you might say, a sort of... |
|
|
|
We SEE one of the women's faces, suddenly harsh under gaslight: under |
|
thickly caked make-up is a smiling TRANSVESTITE. |
|
|
|
POLICEMAN |
|
... sort of whatnot. |
|
|
|
TRANSVESTITE |
|
Say, policeman. I'll buy your bonny friend. |
|
|
|
The Policeman fetches the Transvestite a strong WHACK with his nightstick. |
|
The Transvestite screams and falls ... and Johnny RUNS. |
|
|
|
POLICEMAN |
|
Hey! |
|
|
|
But Johnny's off, already lost in the mad street life. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
INT. MORTUARY NIGHT |
|
|
|
A funeral chapel. |
|
|
|
Vallan's body lies in state. He is wearing his gang regalia, and all the |
|
Dead Rabbits FILE PAST his coffin in solemn tribute. A WOMAN bends down |
|
and kisses the body. Happy Jack Mulraney holds Vallon's crucifix, which he |
|
has obviously inherited. As a disreputable looking Minister mutters |
|
PRAYERS, Happy Jack whispers to a silent Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
HAPPY JACK |
|
We passed the plate amongst ourselves. Come up with enough ned to carry |
|
all this, and carry you a while, too. |
|
|
|
He stuffs some money in Amsterdam's pocket. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Where will my father rest? |
|
|
|
HAPPY JACK |
|
Potters Field, with everyone else. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
My father won't be buried with everyone else. He'll lie separate in fresh |
|
ground, facing east. |
|
|
|
HAPPY JACK |
|
What difference where he faces? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
He'll face east for the second coming of Christ. |
|
|
|
HAPPY JACK |
|
Fine, son. When Jesus gets to the Battery you show Him the way from there. |
|
|
|
The Minister finishes the service. MR. CORNELIUS, a funeral director who |
|
resembles one of his own customers, ushers in a WOMAN (MAGGIE) pulling a |
|
lovely 10 year old GIRL (JENNY EVERDEKNE) by the hand. The woman is |
|
obviously drunk, the girl frightened. |
|
|
|
MR. CORNELIUS |
|
Will you have music, entlegen |
|
|
|
WOMAN (MAGGIE) |
|
My daughter'11 do any song you like. |
|
|
|
HAPPY JACK |
|
Not tonight, Maggie, we got... |
|
|
|
Monk Eastman interrupts from the Background. |
|
|
|
MONK |
|
How much? |
|
|
|
MAGGIE |
|
Any ned in your pocket, sir. |
|
|
|
MONK hands MAGGIE some coins. |
|
|
|
MONK |
|
She sing sweet as she looks? |
|
|
|
MAGGIE |
|
Pure celestial, sir. |
|
(to girl) |
|
Go on, Jenny. |
|
|
|
Jenny's voice is sweet as promised. The song she SINGS, however, is a |
|
bawdy saloon song. Maggie cuts her off fast. |
|
|
|
MAGGIE |
|
No, Jen, the other. |
|
|
|
Jenny starts to sing a HYMN. To avoid looking at the corpse, she lets her |
|
eyes rove all around the chapel until she SEES Amsterdam. She locks |
|
straight at him until the hymn is over. And he does not take his eyes off |
|
her. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
12 INT. MORTUARY HALLWAY NIGHT |
|
|
|
Mr. Cornelius is about to escort Maggie and Jenny into another room |
|
crowded with mourners when a smartly-dressed man (DANIEL KILLORAN) |
|
gestures to him from the shadows. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
Mr. Tweed would like a word, Mr. Cornelius. |
|
(Cornelius hesitates) |
|
Tweed of Tammany. |
|
|
|
At the mention of the name, Cornelius shoos Maggie and Jenny into the |
|
mourning room and shuts the door behind them. Then he gives Killoran his |
|
full attention. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
In your office. At your pleasure, of course. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
13 INT. MORTUARY OFFICE |
|
As the door opens, we see a man gazing out the narrow window onto the |
|
spectacle in the next building. He is in his late 20s, already a little |
|
fleshy but dressed with dash: WILLIAM TWEED... "BOSS" TWEED. He shows a |
|
bemused, almost schalarly interest in the goings-on next door. |
|
This mortuary is located next to a bordello, where the windows are |
|
uncurtained and the energy and variety of the |
|
activities inside is astounding. |
|
|
|
Tweed finally TURNS as Killoran opens the door. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Mr. Cornelius. With a view like this I'm surprised the dead can rest in |
|
peace. |
|
|
|
CORNELIUS |
|
Is there anything I can... |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
(interrupting) |
|
Yes. A favor. |
|
|
|
CORNELIUS |
|
Happy to serve, Mr. Tweed. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Excellent. Lend me something. |
|
|
|
CORNELIUS |
|
(puzzled) |
|
Oh, I don't know what I could ... |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
I believe in form and appearance, you see. Just like yourself, sir. And I |
|
believe in law, and the power of example. Our city is a lawless |
|
wilderness, sir. I'm asking you to help chasten it. |
|
|
|
CORNELIUS |
|
A matter of civic duty, then. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
And civic pride. I want you to help me set an example. |
|
(smiles) |
|
I only need to borrow one of your clients. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
14 INT. MORTUARY NIGHT |
|
|
|
Two native Americans open the door where Vallon is laid out and Bill the |
|
Butcher STRIDES into the room. |
|
There is immediate TENSION, like an electric charge, as other Natives |
|
stand in the doorway and crowd the hall stand while Bill walks over to the |
|
coffin. He places a BLACK ROSE in Vallon's folded hands. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Tomorrow your cortege will cross Paradise Square, into territory protected |
|
by the Native Americans. You will be permitted undisputed passage both |
|
ways. That is our tribute. After that, any Rabbits wishing to join the |
|
Native Americans and willing to swear blood loyalty will be welcomed. All |
|
others will be dispatched. |
|
He starts out of the silent room, but STOPS when he sees Mank Eastman |
|
looking at him with easy interest. Bill the Butcher |
|
STARES him down, but Monk's gaze never wavers. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I'll expect you first. |
|
|
|
MONK |
|
Me? Oh, I don't know. All that talk of blood loyalty makes me quake. I'll |
|
spill blood when the price is right. But blood for ceremony? I prefer holy |
|
communion. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You saw us fight today. You know we can pay any price. |
|
|
|
MONK |
|
Not mine. Not now, and not any time after. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
We'll see. Independence is a slippery thing. But being a rival ... well, |
|
that's dead dangerous. |
|
Bill brushes past Monk and leaves, followed by the NATIVES. |
|
Now the RABBITS file out, with Monk among them. |
|
|
|
HAPPY JACK |
|
Come on, boyo. I'll put you up tonight. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I'll do for myself, Jack. |
|
|
|
HAPPY JACK |
|
You can't. |
|
(Amsterdam stares at him) |
|
There's no mistaking you're his son. |
|
|
|
Happy Jack leaves Amsterdam alone in the room. |
|
|
|
Now, by himself, sure of no one seeing, Amsterdam CRIES. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
15 INT. MORTUARY NIGHT |
|
|
|
Mr. Cornelius is seated in his office, enjoying a late supper while |
|
looking out his window at the bordello activity across the alley. A NOISE |
|
at the door disturbs him: Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What's the cost to bury my father proud and proper? |
|
|
|
MR. CORNELIUS |
|
For a plot, a headstone, hands to break the earth... |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
How much? |
|
|
|
MR. CORNELIUS |
|
What are your current means? |
|
|
|
Amsterdam turns out his pockets, which contain Bill the Butcher's pirate |
|
knife as well as the cash Happy Jack pressed on him. Cornelius TAKES it |
|
all. |
|
|
|
MR. CORNELIUS |
|
Of course you'll have to wait three days for a city permit. But all this |
|
may do for part. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
No. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam takes the knife back from Cornelius. |
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
That's owed another. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
16 EXT. STREET/PARADISE SQUARE DAY |
|
|
|
A grey day. Amsterdam stops in front of a window. He STRUGGLES with his |
|
scarf, trying to keep himself warm. His eye strays for a moment, and he |
|
sees he is outside Mr. Cornelius' Establishment. Then he NOTICES something |
|
else.... |
|
.... his FATHER, propped up in a coffin, on public display. There is a |
|
large sign beside the body: "The Dead End of Lawlessness. Tammany Abhors |
|
Crime. Tammany Means Justice." |
|
A sizeable CROWD is goggling at the body. Amsterdam BULLS his way through |
|
the people to the street. He looks in the gutter, then looks up quickly. |
|
Someone is watching him: Johnny. He's carrying an armful of wood. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Firewood? |
|
|
|
Amsterdam grabs the longest plank Johnny has. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
It's a penny the load. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Later. |
|
|
|
He turns with the plank in his hand and starts to RUN back through the |
|
crowd. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Hey! |
|
|
|
Johnny manages to GRAB the other end of the plank. But Amsterdam's so |
|
strong he YANKS him right along. The Crowd YELLS as it parts for |
|
Amsterdam, who CHARGES through using the plank like a battering ram, with |
|
Johnny on the far end, born along by stubbornness and momentum... |
|
... toward Mr. Cornelius' window. Amsterdam SHATTERS the window and the |
|
Crowd SCATTERS in a blizzard of GLASS. |
|
Amsterdam stumbles into the window and against the coffin, which falls |
|
over, spilling Vallon's BODY, knocking the boy over. Amsterdam picks |
|
himself up as Johnny stands frozen. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Help me. |
|
|
|
He starts to pull his fatherls body from the window. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Come on! Help me, goddamn it! |
|
|
|
In a daze, Johnny steps forward and HELPS Amsterdam pulls the body onto |
|
the street. |
|
|
|
Now: the SOUND of WHISTLES and WHEELS and RUNNING HORSES as a wagon full |
|
of POLICE arrives on the scene. Behind them, the Crowd returns, yelling |
|
insults. |
|
|
|
The police RUN toward the window. Mr. Cornelius dithers at the front of |
|
the crowd. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam and Johnny exchange a look. Then Johnny RUNS for it. Amsterdam |
|
stays with the body... |
|
|
|
... as the cops close in, SWINGING clubs. Amsterdam's grabbed and hit a |
|
couple of times. The Crowd yells. A COP swings his arm back to give |
|
Amsterdam a good wallop... |
|
|
|
... and someone grabs his arm: Bill The Butcher. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Easy, crusher. What's this all about? |
|
|
|
CRUSHER |
|
Ask the boy. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I paid Cornelius for my father to rest in honor. He told me I had to wait |
|
on a permit, but he only wanted time to... |
|
|
|
BILL picks up the Tammany sign from the ground. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Make another Arrangement, looks like. For advertising. |
|
(to cop) |
|
Better go along. I'll see to all this. |
|
|
|
COP |
|
The boy... |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Take the little malefactor. |
|
The Cops YANK the wildly flailing Amsterdam to his feet and DRAG him off |
|
to their wagon. Bill The Butcher approaches Cornelius. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Give the boy what he paid for. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
17 EXT. STREET/PARADISE SQUARE DAY |
|
|
|
Amsterdam is HURLED into the police wagon. The door is locked behind him. |
|
He pulls himselt to his feet, looks out the tiny barred window, SEES ... |
|
|
|
... Dead Rabbits join up in a rough funeral procession. SEVERAL help LOAD |
|
Vallon's body back into the coffin and place it onto Mr. Cornelius' fancy |
|
funeral wagon. Monk Eastman LEAPS up onto the wagon and closes the coffin |
|
lid tight. |
|
|
|
There are PEDDLERS everywhere. One dispenses drinks from a portable |
|
samovar. A SAILOR hawks ships in a bottle, repeatedly shouting the same |
|
advertisement: "Encourage the work of a landswamped sailor!" A SILHOUETTE |
|
ARTIST offers to draw portraits of passersby. |
|
Funeral music is furnished by STREET MUSICIANS: a drummer, a fiddle |
|
player, and a horn player, with a couple of BUSKERS performing along side |
|
for good measure. |
|
Mr. Cornelius takes the wagon reins and guides the horses out of the |
|
square. The gang FOLLOWS solemnly behind. |
|
|
|
And across the square, the police wagon carrying Amsterdam starts MOVING |
|
OFF in the opposite direction. He keeps looking out the tiny wagon window. |
|
The funeral procession leaves the square and activity returns quickly to |
|
normal. Peddlers' CRIES once again fill the air. The Buskers start PLAYING |
|
a snappier tune. SNOW begins to fall. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
18 INT- TOMBS DAY |
|
|
|
A huge, awful prison building modeled on an Egyptian mausoleum. |
|
Amsterdam--trying to hide his growing fear--waits on line with other |
|
PRISONERS, all of them older than he. |
|
At the head of the line, prisoners are being processed by a JAILER and a |
|
couple of COPS. Each prisoner is asked several cursory questions, then |
|
told to strip. Every one of the men is SCARRED in some way. |
|
AMSTERDAM nears the front of the line. The MAN just ahead of him |
|
undresses. His left buttock is missing, and his back is covered with whip |
|
scars. A PRISONER behind Amsterdam WHISPERS loud enough for Amsterdam to |
|
hear... |
|
|
|
PRISONER |
|
Ain't his first Tombs trip. |
|
|
|
ANSTERDAM steps up to the desk. The JAILER hardly takes notice of him. |
|
|
|
JAILER |
|
What do they call you? |
|
|
|
And this is the first time in the film we have heard his name. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
The JAILER looks him over. |
|
|
|
JAILER |
|
Your full name. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Vallon. |
|
|
|
The JAILER writes this down with a scratchy pen. |
|
|
|
JAILER |
|
First name? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I told you. |
|
|
|
JAILER |
|
(skeptical, resigned) |
|
Address? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Got none. |
|
|
|
JAILER |
|
I'll put city. Now what's your age? |
|
(Amsterdam shrugs.) |
|
Maybe twelve. Got a family? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
No more. |
|
|
|
JAILER |
|
Well, where was they from when you had one? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(beat) |
|
City. |
|
|
|
JAILER |
|
(writing) |
|
Disrobe. |
|
|
|
As Amsterdam obeys, the Jailer turns to the Cop in the leather helmet |
|
standing at his side. |
|
|
|
JAILER |
|
What's the charge, Asbury? |
|
|
|
COP |
|
Theft. Assault. Creating a ... |
|
|
|
The Jailer finishes writing. Amsterdam stands naked. |
|
|
|
JAILER |
|
Through that door there. |
|
(lowers his voice) |
|
And don't stand too near no one else. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
19 INT. CREMORE NIGHT |
|
|
|
The largest, noisiest, gaudiest dive we have yet seen, full to bursting |
|
with bawdy CUSTOMERS even at this late hour. Therels a long bar, where men |
|
and women stand three deep; lots of small tables; a dance floor; and a |
|
stage on which four blowsy DANCING GIRLS are giving out with a ribald |
|
number titled "My Father's Teeth Were Plugged With Zinc." |
|
One end of the bar is entirely taken up by a huge woaden keg with an |
|
attached hose. BAR ATTENDANTS DUMP the unfinished contents of glasses into |
|
the open barrel top as a line of FAR GONE DRUNKS wait their turn for the |
|
hose. Maggie, Jenny's mother, is close to the front of the line, very |
|
drunk, hanging on to a mush-faced HOODLUM. |
|
|
|
Two VISITORS watch. One has a pad and makes quick SKETCHES. |
|
|
|
VISITOR ONE |
|
Ought to be served in a trough, properly. Will you try some? |
|
|
|
ARTIST |
|
Probably. What is it? |
|
|
|
VISITOR ONE |
|
All-Sorts. It's made of all that's poured and not drunk, and any they can |
|
salvage that's spilt. |
|
|
|
Maggie GRABS the hose, staring at the Artist as she takes a drink. His |
|
hand moves quickly an the page, SKETCHING her. |
|
|
|
VISITOR |
|
(to Maggie) |
|
Your health. |
|
|
|
She SPITS at him, insulted. The Artist steps forward, puts some of the |
|
All-Sorts from the hose into his glass, and toasts Maggie. She nods and |
|
turns away.... |
|
...as Johnny enters, dragging a large SACK across the crowded floor toward |
|
a far door. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
20 INT. CREMORE BACK ROOM NIGHT |
|
|
|
Johnny RUSHES toward a wooden pen in the center of the room. There are |
|
cries from the crowd of SPORTSMEN of "Hurry it up" and "More speed!" |
|
Johnny dodges a kick or two before he finally arrives at the pen. |
|
He UPENDS the sack over the pit and a dozen live RATS tumble out. A |
|
GAMEMASTER slips Johnny a couple of cents as he starts his spiel. |
|
|
|
GAMEMASTER |
|
Alright, gents and ladies, your bets now on Towser against the vermin, the |
|
count to beat is ten rodents in three minutes. |
|
|
|
The crowd starts to place bets. A sleepy Johnny settles down close to |
|
ringside to watch the show. |
|
|
|
At a signal from the Gamemaster, a TRAINER tosses TOWSER--A fierce |
|
mongrel--into the ring. The crowd cheers lustily, continuing to shout out |
|
bets, as the dog goes after the rats.The rats, fighting for their lives, |
|
bite the dog, attaching themselves to his body. Towser retaliates by |
|
gnawing the rats, SNAPPING them in half and spitting them out. |
|
|
|
As the CROWD cheers, and Towser kills, and money changes hands, Johnny |
|
curls up and goes to sleep. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
21 INT. TOMBS NIGHT |
|
|
|
A row of cells, noisy and cold. The GUARD shoves Amsterdam into a cell. |
|
|
|
GUARD 2 |
|
You get to live private until they come from the orphan's asylum. On |
|
account of your tender years. |
|
|
|
There is nothing in the cell but a board for a bed, and a window through |
|
which Amsterdam can see the late winter moonlight. He looks for stars in |
|
the sky, but can see none. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
22 INT- MAIN ROOM/OLD BREWERY |
|
|
|
Jenny Everdeane and a girl FRIEND, her own age, huddle together in a dark |
|
corner of this huge space. The Friend opens her hand to show Jenny a |
|
glimpse of what she's clutching: a penny. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Let me see! I don't believe it. |
|
|
|
FRIEND |
|
(closing her hand) |
|
No! It's a danger. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Oh come on! It's not. |
|
(Friend shakes her head) |
|
Then tell me where you got it. |
|
|
|
FRIEND |
|
From some man. He took me in his carriage. He only wanted to do something |
|
to me fast. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
What? |
|
|
|
FRIEND |
|
(shrugs) |
|
I didn't understand. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Would he do the same with me? |
|
|
|
FRIEND |
|
I won't tell you if he's around again. |
|
(clutches penny tight) |
|
He's my secret. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Better keep it more careful, then. |
|
|
|
The Friend GETS UP and starts across the Brewery floor, acting nonchalant. |
|
But she looks around her, across the sleeping, passed-out bodies, past the |
|
desperate families and their squalling infants, to see if she's been |
|
noticed. |
|
A man and two women cast a glance her way. She looks away, but the TRIO |
|
keeps watching her... then FANS OUT and starts to FOLLOW her. |
|
The Friend looks over her shoulder again. SEES the Man. Locks in another |
|
direction, SEES: the woman. And then: the second woman. All closing on her. |
|
The Friend starts to RUN. The Trio runs after her. And no one else pays |
|
attention. The Friend PLUNGES into one of the warren of TUNNELS that lead |
|
off the Brewery floor. |
|
CAMERA plunges through the darkness, after her. Her footsteps ECHO; there |
|
is the SOUND of stumbling, falling, an angry CURSE and a BLOW being |
|
struck. The FRIEND picks herself up out of the darkness and keeps running, |
|
CAMERA following down the dank halls. |
|
Suddenly the TRIO runs AHEAD of the camera. There is a SCREAM. CAMERA |
|
staps. And others SOUNDS follow quickly now: the dull THUD of a heavy |
|
object against bone, REPEATED several times; and then, very soon after, |
|
the most terrible sound of all: silence. |
|
Then Two Women emerge from the darkness of the tunnel, fighting over the |
|
penny. The Man, several steps behind them, throws an object to the dirt |
|
floor: it's a STONE, and it is covered with blood. He comes up behind the |
|
Two Women quickly and GRABS the penny from them with a hand that still |
|
DRIPS blood and gore. They CHASE after him across the crowded Brewery |
|
floor. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
23 INT. HALLWAY/TAMMANY NIGHT 2 |
|
|
|
CAMERA races along the ornate corridor, past PORTRAITS of many affluent |
|
and self-important GENTLEMEN... through a door and into... |
|
|
|
24 INT. TWEEDIS OFFICE/TAMMANY NIGHT |
|
|
|
... Tweed's domain. Small in size, but there are dozens of CAGES OF |
|
CANARIES all around. Tweed looks up startled as the door flies open. The |
|
birds set up a COMMOTION. |
|
|
|
CAMERA bears down on Tweed as a pair of HANDS grabs him and hurls him |
|
against the wall. |
|
|
|
Bill The Butcher GLARES at Tweed. Some NATIVES come into the room behind |
|
him. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You come into the Five Points and you stole from me. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
I don't know... |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You stole Vallon. He was my kill. My example, of my power. You took him |
|
and made him yours. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
You're a lunatic to come here like... |
|
|
|
In the background, same of the NATIVES have begun to play CATCH by |
|
removing the CANARY CAGES from their places and tossing them all over the |
|
room. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Thank you. Just listen good. The Native Americans holds the Five Points. |
|
We have prevailed. What you do outside the Points is your deciding. |
|
Outside is your city. Inside the Points is mine. Anyone who says |
|
different, or does different, or thinks different... |
|
(smiles) |
|
... theylll draw my unwelcame attention. You understand? |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I do understand, yes. |
|
|
|
BILL pushes him away and starts out. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
But you don't understand at all. |
|
|
|
Bill keeps walking. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
There's a whole city to share and all you see is your own narrow streets. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
(turns now) |
|
You just stay out of my place. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Yes, alright. Gladly. It's all blackjack jobs and panel games and killings |
|
for a fiver. |
|
|
|
Bill waits for Tweed to continue. But Tweed stoops and tries to soothe a |
|
canary in a cage. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
It's good work. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
As far as it goes. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You wouldn't be talking to me otherwise. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
But we're talking about different things, Bill. You describe the present. |
|
I see the possibilities. Look to the future. There is so much more. |
|
|
|
The Butcher starts to look interested. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
25 INT. TWEED'S OFFICE NIGHT |
|
|
|
Later. The Natives have cleared out; only Tweed and the Butcher remain. |
|
The cages have been restored to their proper places and the room has been |
|
straightened. Bill stands beside the door, while Tweed relaxes in a chair. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
There's things demanding to be done that no police force can do, not even |
|
an obedient one. There's contributions from every dive and brothel. |
|
Loyalties to be secured and debts to be collected. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED (Cont'd) |
|
And now you and your Natives have emerged as the foremost force in the |
|
Five Points, I'm prepared to extend you an opportunity. You can work for |
|
Tammany... |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
We work for no one. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
... beside Tammany... in the performance of these civic obligations. And |
|
for a satisfactory... I'm prepared even to say equitable... financial |
|
participation. It's not the sort of responsibility the founding fathers |
|
might have recognized. But then, the founding fathers never imagined the |
|
city New York has become. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Maybe you Tammany boys should do your own lifting and carrying and muscle |
|
work. Might build you up. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
We'd like to. I do miss it. But it's wiser for men in the public life to |
|
give an appearance of probity. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Then get cops to do it. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Oh Jesus, no. The appearance of law must be upheld, especially while it's |
|
being broken. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Appearance means nothing. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Perhaps not within the Points. But the smart man could go higher. |
|
|
|
Bill looks at Tweed for a long moment. The he SHOVES himself away from the |
|
wall, pulls away the chair on which Tweed has been resting his feet and |
|
sits down close to him. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
If you can talk plain, maybe we can do business. |
|
|
|
26 EXT. STREET NIGHT |
|
|
|
A small slum thoroughfare congested by a splendid FIRE-WAGON labeled |
|
"Americus Co./Tammany Hall." Curious SPECTATORS and panic-stricken |
|
RESIDENTS crowd around to watch a ramshackle building going up in FLAMES. |
|
As Johnny presses through the crowd to get a good look at the fire, Tweed, |
|
in a white coat and fancy fire helmet, steps off the fire wagon to address |
|
an ONLOOKER. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Anyone inside? |
|
|
|
ONLOOKER |
|
No, praise God, but all we own... |
|
|
|
TWEED places a bucket over the only fire plug in the vicinity, then sits |
|
on it. |
|
|
|
ONLOOKER |
|
Well? |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Waiting on reinforcements. |
|
|
|
The SOUND of another bell, nearby. Down the street from the opposite |
|
direction come TWO MORE FIRE-WAGONS. The crowd starts cheering. Tweed does |
|
not move from the plug. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
That's not them. It's only the Black Jokes. Seems your fire interrupted |
|
their festivities. |
|
|
|
The wagons pull up next to the fire plug. Each of them has the words |
|
"Black Joke Fire Co." written large on the side, but the FIREMEN wear |
|
party costumes, not regular uniforms. Some are dressed as British |
|
Redcoats, still others as Indians. |
|
The FLAMES continue to devour the building, but Tweed does not budge from |
|
the plug. He is approached by the Black Jake chief, who is dressed as an |
|
Indian chief. |
|
|
|
CHIEF |
|
May I point out that the building is burning to ashes? |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Certainly. And may I then remind you, Pocahontas, that this entire area is |
|
the province of the Americus company, and you will kindly keep your |
|
distance. |
|
Impasse. The rival Fire Companies size each other up and start toward each |
|
other. The building continues to burn. Tweed remains regal and unperturbed |
|
atop the fire plug. |
|
As the two COMPANIES are about to close with each other, a second BELL |
|
sounds. Tweed's "reinforcements" have arrived: the Native Americans, led |
|
by Bill The Butcher. They PILE OFF the wagons before the horses halt. Now |
|
the Black Joke Co. is outnumbered, and it FALLS BACK. As the Crowd CHEERS, |
|
Tweed takes the bucket off the fire plug. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Alright, boys! To work! |
|
|
|
The MEN of the Americus Co. give a great SHOUT and start firefighting: a |
|
hose is hitched up to the plug, buckets are filled, a primitive pump sends |
|
water spluttering everywhere. |
|
But there is not much blaze left to combat and the Men quickly grow |
|
frustrated. Tweed realizes this immediately. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Next building over, boys! Mustn't let it spread! |
|
|
|
The men charge into a neighboring building, STOMPING down doors, CLIMBING |
|
through windows and SWINGING AXES with gusto, all to save a building that |
|
is in no danger at all. |
|
A local poll named DANIEL KILLORAN detaches himself from the crowd and |
|
approaches Tweed, giving him a hearty SLAP on the back. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
Another proud night for Tammany, Bill. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Just tell them... |
|
(lowers his voice) |
|
... to take enough to share. And not to steal so in the open. |
|
|
|
Indeed, the Men are leaving the building with lots of LOOT. CITIZENS who |
|
question their right to do this are promptly KNOCKED DOWN. Killoran GRABS |
|
Bill The Butcher as he rushes by. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Jesus! Boss says to tell you to fight the fire from the front and loot out |
|
the back. |
|
|
|
Bill grins and leaves to spread the word as an angry WOMAN approaches |
|
Tweed. |
|
|
|
TEARFUL WOMAN |
|
The Black Joke could have saved my house! |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Black Joke had no business here, Madam. |
|
|
|
TEARFUL WOMAN |
|
Their business was to save my house! |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Tammany's your business. When we're here to call upon there's no need of |
|
other. We understand loss, Madam, and take care of our own. |
|
|
|
As Tweed leads her off, away from the blaze and the thieving, he passes a |
|
boy sitting an the curb, watching the fire ... and watching Tweed ... with |
|
admiration. It's Johnny. |
|
|
|
The FLAMES light up his EYES as we... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
27 INT. BREWERY NIGHT 2 |
|
|
|
Jenny's face, as she tries to sleep on a narrow, filthy mattress. Her |
|
mother Maggie lies beside her, crowding her, THRASHING about in a |
|
troubled, drunken sleep. |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
28 INT- ROOM/HIGH BRIDGE ORPHANS ASYLUM 2 |
|
|
|
Amsterdam, eyes wide, lying on a cot in the middle of a long room crowded |
|
with KIDS - This place is a step or two up from the Brewery--but not a big |
|
step. He stares at the ceiling, eyes grave, untroubled by the small cries |
|
of loneliness and fear that come from some of the beds surrounding him. As |
|
we move CLOSE on his EYES we... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
29 EXT. HIGH BRIDGE ORPHANS ASYLUM DUSK |
|
|
|
... the same eyes. But OLDER. Smart and full of savagery. |
|
|
|
It is Amsterdam. He is now in his early 20s, fully grown and no man to |
|
trifle with. Moving with jungle stealth and strength he ... |
|
|
|
... BURSTS out the door within the massive frame of a great iron gate over |
|
which hangs the sign "High Bridge Orphan Asylum." He starts to RUN and a |
|
TITLE comes up... |
|
1852 |
|
|
|
Pursued by GUARDS, Amsterdam runs hell-for-lather for a long vaulted |
|
bridge. It's a beautiful, stern old Romanesque span across the Harlem |
|
River with rolling banks of leafy trees on the far side. Even in the |
|
twilight, we can see that it is late spring, the end of a long afternoon. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
30 EXT. HIGH BRIDGE DUSK (MATTE) |
|
|
|
Amsterdam is on the bridge. But he does not slow up until .... |
|
|
|
... two orphanage GUARDS suddenly TACKLE him. A THIRD GUARD beats him with |
|
a billy club. Amsterdam moans and curses, as much from frustration as pain. |
|
|
|
SECOND GUARD |
|
It's Blackwell's Island certain now, boyo. |
|
|
|
The SECOND GUARD pulls AMSTERDAM up by the hair. |
|
|
|
THIRD GUARD |
|
Are you hurting? Let's hear you! |
|
|
|
Amsterdam won't give him the satisfaction. The Guard hits him. Amsterdam |
|
goes down, biting his lip so he won't cry out. Instead, he forces a SMILE. |
|
|
|
SECOND GUARD |
|
There's nothing funny, boyo! You been beat and turned back four times now. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
But every time you bring me back... you got to come further to catch me. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
31 EXT. CORLEAPS' HOOK PIER NIGHT |
|
Through the THICK FOG comes a ghostly apparition: a tattered SKULL AND |
|
CROSSBONES, made of rags, fluttering from the mast of a leaky, unstable |
|
vessel. |
|
The bow of the small boat breaks the fog, and on board we see: a hulk |
|
called SHEENY MIKE KURTZ and a huge black kid named JIMMY SPOILS, manning |
|
the cars. Johnny Sirocco, grown wary and wiry, peers into the fog like a |
|
lookout, while Shang Draper, at the tiller, looks anxious. |
|
The HULL of a large boat suddenly laoms in front of them, not five yards |
|
away. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Hard starboard, Shang! Hard starboard! |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
(panic) |
|
I told you forget that sailor stuff! Which way's star... |
|
Too late. Their Ticket craft crashes into the side with enough force to |
|
make a LOUD THUMP and to send Shang sprawling. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
(sarcastic) |
|
Why don't we just knock on their front door? |
|
|
|
Shang gestures for QUIET. They wait and listen. No sound from the deck of |
|
the boat above them. The boys throw two ROPE LADDERS over the rail of the |
|
larger ship and start climbing. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
32 EXT. SHIP NIGHT |
|
|
|
The boys board the ship and gather on deck. They look around uneasily, |
|
spooked by the silence and the fog. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
Spread out and make for the cabin. |
|
Moving slowly, the boys FAN OUT and move toward the cabin at the far end |
|
of the deck. Johnny stays close to Shang, holding onto the shipls rail for |
|
support. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
(whispering) |
|
Nothing. Looks picked clean. |
|
|
|
Johnny stops. His hand, on the railing, is BLOODY. On the other side of |
|
the deck, Sheeny Mike discovers more traces of blood and SIGNALS Shang. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
Bill and the Natives must have got here first. |
|
|
|
Johnny freezes in terror. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
What ... |
|
|
|
A long SHADOW falls across his shoulder. Shang jumps. |
|
|
|
Standing before him, holding a musket and covered in blood, is the ship's |
|
CAPTAIN. A BUTCHER'S CLEAVER is imbedded between his neck and shoulder. |
|
With his dying energy, the Captain takes AIM at a petrified Shang and |
|
fires his musket. |
|
Jimmy Spoils JUMPS the Captain from behind, sending the musket ball way |
|
wide. But the SOUND of the musket is thunderaus, and echoes through the |
|
harbor. The boys panic and head for the side. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
That'll bring the Harbor cops for sure. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(about the dead man) |
|
Wait! Take him. If he's still alive he's good for ransom! |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
Hels dead as Good Friday, can't you... |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Then we'll take Bill the Butcher's cleaver and sell the body to the |
|
medical students. They'll go five dollars for it anyway. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
Come on. We'll get something out of this. |
|
|
|
Shang and Johnny start DRAGGING the body. Pushing, pulling and mostly |
|
panicked, the others help. As they boost the body over the side, the SOUND |
|
of a bell cuts through the fog. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
The Harbors! |
|
|
|
Shang shoves the body off the side and into the boat. It lands with a |
|
resounding THUD. The boys CLAMBER after it. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
33 EXT. BOAT/RIVER NIGHT |
|
|
|
PUSHING OFF with cars, tearing their rope ladders from the side of the |
|
ship, stumbling over the captain's body, the boys slip off into the fog. |
|
The Harbor Police are so close to them they can see a police LANTERN |
|
shining. The boys stay absolutely still. Suddenly, WE SEE: the POLICE |
|
BOAT, breaking through the fog, then |
|
DISAPPEARING again. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
We can't go back to Corlears Hook, they'll be watching... |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
We'll make for Blackwells. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
And which way's that through this fog? |
|
|
|
Johnny throws his hands up for quiet. From close by comes the SOUND of |
|
COP'S VOICES. They are near. Very near. The boys stay as still as they |
|
can... |
|
... and the VOICES recede again in the thick fog. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
Should have asked them directions as they drifted by, Shang. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
You'd have liked that, wouldn't you Coal Face? You're the only one they'd |
|
miss in the dark. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
Let's quiet, or we'll all be found out! |
|
|
|
As the BOYS stay still, their boat DRIFTS against an outcropping of land |
|
and STOPS. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
Alright. We lay up here till first light. Then we run back across the |
|
river. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
(contemptuously) |
|
River pirates! |
|
|
|
Spoils settles back and tries to sleep. Johnny watches Shang in the bow. |
|
Shang is too agitated to notice Johnny's stare. He looks away, waiting for |
|
the sun. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
34 EXT- BLACKWELLS ISLAND DAWN |
|
|
|
Shang drowses in the boat, fighting fatigue, then succumbing to it. But |
|
h's brought awake suddenly by a loud SPLASH. He looks in the direction of |
|
the noise, SEES ... |
|
... the BODY of the slaughtered ship's captain floating away in the |
|
company. He starts to cry out but Amsterdam GRABS him, locking his throat |
|
in the crook of his arm. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(to everyone) |
|
|
|
Push off! Or his pipe snaps! |
|
The other boys are too stunned to resist. They push the boat away from the |
|
island. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Head straight out, then turn for the current. |
|
|
|
He pushes Shang away from him. The two boys stare at each ather, finally |
|
remembering... |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
(breathing hard) |
|
Figured you for dead. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Close enough. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
This is my crew. And welcome to join, if you've the mettle. We're river |
|
pirates and quick thieves and street brawlers... |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(casual disdain) |
|
You're lost. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
Yeah? You've no business saying anything against us! Do you know how much |
|
you cost us? You know how much that body's worth? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I doubt it's worth the water it's floating in. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
Fifteen dollars! Fifteen dollars from them medical ghouis. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I'll make it back for you whatever it is, once we're in the city. Just |
|
keep sailing, or we're all done for. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
(beat; to crew) |
|
Go ahead then. |
|
(beat; to Amsterdam) |
|
He was in his prime. He'd have fetched thirty dollars easy. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
35 INT. HIDEOUT DAY |
|
|
|
A ramshackle room near the docks. It is part meeting hall, part living |
|
quarters for the gang, and part clearing house forstolen goods. SHANG |
|
presides over a boisterous meeting. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
You're as flat as Broadway going north. We can't run the river no more. |
|
We're poaching the Natives and the Harbor cops are looking for us. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
The cops can go to blazes. Who cares about them? |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
Youlre all sand when it comes to cops, Shang. But do you have the sand to |
|
go against the Natives? |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
It ain't the time to go against the Natives. We've got to build first. |
|
Then we go. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
If we go like we did in the river, all of us'll sink. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam is sitting off to the side, watching this ongoing debate with |
|
contemptuous detachment. Johnny sits next to him. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Does Shang have the sand to ever go against the Natives? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I don't know. He acts like it. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
If he only acts, held be better on the stage. |
|
(looks away) |
|
Like her. |
|
|
|
His tone of voice has changed. Jenny Everdeane passes before him; she's |
|
ravishing. Amsterdam STARES, as if he's trying to see into her heart. |
|
Jenny pays him scant attention as she moves across the room toward Shang. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Jenny Everdeane. Shang turned her into the best bludget in the Points. |
|
|
|
Jenny gives Shang silk scarfs, wallets and several purses from her coat. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Shes his mort, is she, as well as his best provider? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Yeah. But Jenny says she's anyone's she chooses. |
|
|
|
Jenny's haul is impressive. Shang picks a BRIGHT RED SILK SCARF with a |
|
distinctive PAISLEY design from the pile of stolen goods. He examines it |
|
with a shrewd, appreciative eye. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
That's the prize of the month. Spice Islands silk. |
|
|
|
He puts the scart in his coat pocket with a FLOURISH, then throws his arm |
|
about Jenny in a proprietary way. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
You'll learn our way if you're going to be one of us, Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
Jenny reacts slightly to the mention of the name: she looks over and |
|
RECOGNIZES Amsterdam now. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
Every one of us gives a portion of all they steal to the gang. Morts more |
|
than men, being morts. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Yeah? And why is that? |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
Because morts have more resources. Men can work only on their feet, but a |
|
mort can turn out on her back. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I mean, why give at all? Why don't they keep for themselves? |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
If you think there's something off about my way of running things, you got |
|
no place in this gang. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I got no place anyway, and you got no gang. This ain't a gang, no matter |
|
what you say. It's a mob. |
|
|
|
There's a tense hush in the grubby room. Shang takes his arm from around |
|
Jenny, wanting to be restrained. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(smiling) |
|
It's all your play now, Shang. Maybe you can set him right. |
|
|
|
Jenny hands him a cane. Barely managing to hide his reluctance, he |
|
starts--slowly--toward Amsterdam, who stands his ground. The gang steps |
|
back to give them room in this tiny space. Shang pulls the cane apart: |
|
it's a SWORD CANE, but Amsterdam shows no fear. He shifts his weight a |
|
little, watching ... and they're interrupted by a... |
|
|
|
VOICE (HAPPY JACK) |
|
You boys settle with me before you settle each other. |
|
|
|
They turn to him. |
|
|
|
HAPPY JACK |
|
I've come for my due and proper, Shang. |
|
|
|
Happy Jack Mulraney (the Dead Rabbit gang member with the halfparalyzed |
|
face) stands before them in a POLICEMAN'S UNIFORM-sparkling clean and |
|
splendid--a leather helmet and long coat. In his hand, he twirls a |
|
NIGHTSTICK. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
As agreed, then, Jack. Refreshment? |
|
|
|
Shang OPENS the top of the gold-handled sword cane. Inside are large, |
|
solid LUMPS of cocaine. Jack reaches for the choicest. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Still smiling, are you? |
|
|
|
HAPPY JACK |
|
(sizing him up) |
|
It's the young Vallon, is it? I hardly recognized you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I hardly knew you under that hat, Jack. |
|
|
|
By now, Jack has taken not only the cocaine, and the money and swag Shang |
|
offers, but several of the purses and wallets Jenny delivered. Jenny |
|
stares at him with contempt, and he laughs, tossing one of the purses back |
|
at her. |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
There. For your respect. |
|
|
|
Jack turns to leave but a BRASH BOY blocks his way. Moving fast and fancy, |
|
Jack bashes the Boy to the floor with his nightstick. |
|
|
|
HAPPY JACK |
|
Anybody else? Any number at all, come on. |
|
|
|
Several of the gang make a move toward Jack, but Shang WAVES them back. |
|
Jack departs UNHARMED, to general disgust. Jenny walks back across the |
|
room to help the Brash Boy. Shang GLARES at Amsterdam, slides his sword |
|
back into his cane and follows Jenny, trying to explain himself. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Is that sand we've just seen? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
It's politics. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
36 EXT. PARADISE SQUARE DAY |
|
|
|
A hot summer day. All the TRADESMEN are out in force, jamming the square |
|
and the side streets leading to it. Amsterdam walks fast through the |
|
crowd, enjoying the freedom and the bustle, as Johnny tags along close |
|
behind him. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I've got my own way to go, why don't you find yours? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Because your way's different, and I want to see where it goes. |
|
(Amsterdam looks at him) |
|
Unless you say otherwise. Amsterdam shrugs and keep walking. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
You act like you have something in mind, like you know every day what |
|
you'll be doing the next. Me, I don't figure on tomorrow. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Well, if you shut up a while maybe it'd come on its own. |
|
(he stops, looks) |
|
Now what the hell's that? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(following his glance) |
|
Oh that's heaven. |
|
|
|
WE SEE what they're looking at: the Old Brewery. In worse shape than ever |
|
before, but shut-down, abandoned. A tattered banner flaps against the |
|
front door: "Future Home of the Five Points Mission/ Praise God!/ The |
|
Reverend Shadrach Raleigh, Pastor." |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
The city shut down the Brewery as unfit to live and Tammany gave it over |
|
to this minister. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAN |
|
What's Tammany? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Why Tammany ... you don't know? Tammany makes the city run. A political |
|
organization that's like... like the Native Americans, only ranging over |
|
the whole city. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
37 MONTAGE |
|
|
|
As Johnny continues to speak, we see Tammany tactics in action: |
|
WARD-HEALERS dispensing coal to the poor, and TOUGHS stealing meat off of |
|
butcher's wagons; a political PARADE with fife and drum-and |
|
politicians--including Boss Tweed--in ceremonial Indian costume, and a |
|
group of GOONS busting up a saloon; Tweed making a speech to enthusiastic |
|
CONSTITUENTS and a Tammany Fire Company tearing through the streets, |
|
scattering everyone in their way, finally revealing they are not rushing |
|
to a fire but are CRASING OFF a rival fire company. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
They seem like the law, but they got a way of acting outside the law. |
|
Anything that happens in this city, on the straight or on the sly, |
|
Tammany's a part of, and Boss Tweedls the heart of Tammany. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
38 EXT. PARADISE SQUARE,/OLD BREWERY DAY |
|
|
|
Amsterdam studies Johnnyls enthusiastic face. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
They're the best gang there is. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
So if Tammany's the best, go with Tammany. What are you running with this |
|
mob for? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
'Cause they're more my size for now. With Tammany, you got to do something |
|
large, something that makes them take notice of you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAN |
|
You're better oft without their notice. You can run free, work your own |
|
schemes. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
But if your schemes have size, you need size to bring them off. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What are you thinking? |
|
|
|
Johnny shrugs, grins: he doesn't want to give anything away. Amsterdam |
|
understands, turns toward the Brewery. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Let me in if you ever get it figured. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam starts toward the Old Brewery, Johnny keeping step. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I'll go on my own from here. |
|
|
|
Johnny STOPS and Amsterdam continues on by himself. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
39 INT. MAIN ROOM/OLD BREWERY |
|
|
|
Echoing. Dank. Amsterdam holds a candle high for light. RATS skitter. He |
|
crosses the main floor, enters one of the side tunnels. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
40 INT. ROOM/OLD BREWERY |
|
|
|
A tiny room we recognize from the first scene: this is the place where |
|
Amsterdam lived with his father. He crouches and TEARS UP some |
|
floorboards, then quickly LOWERS HIMSELF into the hole. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
41 INT. UNDER FLOOR/OLD BR.EWERY |
|
|
|
A short tunnel under the Brewery floor, the kind a kid might make. |
|
Amsterdam has trouble crawling through it. DIRT and ROCK sprinkle him |
|
until he finds what he wants stuck in a shallow hole; a battered leather |
|
MONEY PURSE; and a PAPER-WRAPPED PACKAGE. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam snaps open the purse to make sure the little bit of MONEY is |
|
still there, then turns his attention to the package. He TEARS it open. |
|
Inside is the PIRATE KNIFE that Bill the Butcher used to kill Amsterdam's |
|
father. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam handles the knife carefully as he opens it. The candle light |
|
makes the blade GLEAMS. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
42 EXT. ALLEY/OLD BREWERY DAY |
|
|
|
A shock of summer SUNLIGHT as Amsterdam emerges from one of the back |
|
entrances of the Brewery onto a fetid alley filled with rotted barrels, |
|
broken glass and insensible drunks. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam looks carefully up and down the alley, letting his eyes adjust |
|
to the bright light. Ahead of him, he SEES ... |
|
|
|
Shang Draper, in jovial conversation with a SECOND MAN we do not |
|
recognize. The man is bareheaded, and has a deep scar running back to |
|
front clear down the center of his bald head. Amsterdam waits, WATCHES. |
|
|
|
Shang takes the RED SILK SCARF he got from Jenny's swag and hands it to |
|
the Second Man. He and Shang SHAKE HANDS, as if they have concluded a |
|
business deal, and the Second Man walks away. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam PRESSES himself close to the door as Shang LOOKS AROUND... |
|
doesn't see Amsterdam... and walks off in the opposite direction, across |
|
Paradise Square. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
43 INT- RECEPTION ROOM AND TWEED'S OFFICE DAY |
|
|
|
The main room is as loud and as prosperous as the stock exchange. Bill the |
|
Butcher makes his way past Small GROUPS of men engaged in heated political |
|
dealings of dubious virtue. |
|
|
|
Bill knocks on the door to Tweed's private office while he's opening it. |
|
Inside is Boss Tweed, seated in a large WOODEN BOX like a primitive sauna. |
|
Around him are various PETITIONERS, and his assistant Daniel Killoran. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
I dread city stimmers. They bring illness and beget vermin. |
|
|
|
PETITIONER #l (GLEASON) |
|
My plague box fends off all pestilence. Its elixir combats ill humors... |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
We can't have every citizen of the Five Points boxed up like cargo. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
But the season is vicious, and I must take thought of our constituents. |
|
Mr. Gleason, I'd like you to shake hands with Mr. Barnett Baff... |
|
|
|
Gleason, dubious, shakes hands with PETITIONER #2 as Bill the Butcher |
|
looks on with amusement. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
A friend and owner of an estimable carting service. Work out an |
|
arrangement whereby the citizenry can receive the benefit of Mr. Gleason's |
|
wondrous elixir outside this excellent box. At a cost, Mr. Gleason, of how |
|
much the barrel ... |
|
|
|
GLEASON |
|
(figuring rapidly) |
|
Oh, perhaps twenty-five dollars. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
...and how much, Mr. Baff, for haulage and distribution... |
|
|
|
BAFF |
|
The same again. At least. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
At least. That's a price of fifty dollars. And greedy, low piracy at that |
|
(Gleason and Baff splutter) |
|
But a price that Tammany, in its generosity, will meet. Merely submit a |
|
bill for a hundred. We'll each have half. And I'll retain this box for |
|
further experiment. Hello, Bill. |
|
|
|
Killoran LEADS the astonished Gleason and Baff away as Bill APPROACHES. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Bolt the door. |
|
|
|
Bill complies. As Tweed speaks and the anti-plague VAPORS SWIRL around his |
|
head, he keeps his eyes closed. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Scotchy Lavelle's gone wrong in his accounts. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I know. Scotchy's a good man. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Not good enough to rake thirty percent of our share from Sparrow's and use |
|
it for his own. |
|
(opens his eyes) |
|
You got to give him over, Bill. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I can't do that. No matter what he steals, I still get more from him than |
|
any two others. As do you. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
Alright then. What about Charles McGloin? He's running a panel game off to |
|
one side. Did you know that? |
|
(Bill shrugs) |
|
I can't get a day's work done for all the good citizens pouring in here |
|
complaining about crime and corruption all over the Points. They accuse |
|
Tammany of carelesoness. Some even suspect ... a few practically suggest. |
|
(eying Bill significantly) |
|
... our complicity with this rampant criminality. We must show them |
|
Tammany stands behind the letter of the law. We need to set an example. |
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
(beat) |
|
Charles McGloin will do. |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
I'll set the trial for Friday. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
44 EXT- TOMBS DAY |
|
|
|
CAMERA moves high along the outside wall, past small rectangular slits |
|
that pass for jail windows. EYES peer out, as if a peep show is underway |
|
directly below in the Tombs courtyard. A PRISONER is being readied for the |
|
gallows by having a hood tied to his head. |
|
|
|
The CROWD is in a carnival mood; HOT CORN GIRLS, STREET VENDORS, |
|
"HOKEY-POKEY" (i.e., ice cream) MERCHANTS, even BUSKERS, all add to the |
|
holiday spirit. |
|
|
|
Jenny works through the crowd, pushing and smiling her way past groups of |
|
raucous merrymakers. She stops once or twice to have a word with a |
|
GENTLEMAN, flirts for a moment, then moves on. |
|
|
|
Further back in the crowd, Amsterdam NOTICES her. He watches her go |
|
through the crowd with an admiration that quickly turns to FASCINATION as |
|
he realizes what she's doing: picking pockets. The best bludget in the |
|
Five Points. He starts to FOLLOW her. |
|
|
|
Jenny has worked her way close to the hanging platform, but she's so |
|
intent on her job she has not noticed Amsterdam. The closer the platform, |
|
the closer the spectacle and richer the pickings: Jenny's concentration is |
|
absolute. On the platform, an ASSISTANT HANGMAN addresses the Crowd. |
|
|
|
ASSISTANT HANGMAN |
|
Those interested in the effects of the condemned please come forward. |
|
|
|
44 CONTINUED: |
|
|
|
Part of the Crowd PRESSES in toward the platform, temporarily blocking |
|
Amsterdam's view of Jenny. He is right against the platform. |
|
|
|
ASSISTANT HANGMAN |
|
What am I bid for this coat? A coat of some wear but excellent cut... |
|
containing a rather remarkable pocket silk... |
|
|
|
MAN IN CROWD |
|
Bid a quarter! |
|
|
|
HANGMAN |
|
A quarter, thank you. Do I hear fifty cents? Fifty cents? |
|
|
|
The Hangman is holding up the condemned man's coat which contains the RED |
|
SILK SCARF Amsterdam saw Shang give away. Amsterdam flips the HANGMAN a |
|
quarter, reaches out and GRABS the handkerchief. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Here. Just for the silk. |
|
|
|
He stuffs it into his pocket and starts to PUSH his way through the crowd. |
|
On the platform, the WARDEN steps forward holding a primitive megaphone. |
|
|
|
WARDEN |
|
Do you have any last remarks, Charles McGloin? |
|
|
|
McGloin grunts from underneath the hood. |
|
|
|
MCGLOIN |
|
Not from under this hood I don't. |
|
|
|
Crowd near the platform begins to CHANT "No hood, no hood, no hood!" The |
|
Warden puts his hand on the hood, starts to remove it... |
|
|
|
... and the Crowd CHEERS. Amsterdam turns, SEES: Charles McGloin. Bald, |
|
with a deep scar running front to back on his head. The very SAME MAN he |
|
saw in the alley with Shang. |
|
|
|
McGloin acknowledges the cheers of the crowd. The Warden holds to |
|
megaphone close and McGloin bellows... |
|
|
|
MCGLOIN |
|
I never struck a foul blow or turned a card and may God greet me as a |
|
friend! |
|
|
|
The Crowd ROAR approval at these words. Amsterdam PUSHES through the |
|
crowd, looking for Jenny ... SPOTTING her finally... |
|
|
|
... while up on the platform, the NOOSE is placed around McGLOIN's neck, |
|
and he is HOISTED UP in no time. We hear his neck SNAP. His feet kick |
|
after death. The Crowd raises a zighty cheer. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
45 EXT./INT. BROADWAY AND BROADWAY STAGE DAY |
|
|
|
Amsterdam walks with a crowd toward a waiting Broadway stage, a vehicle |
|
that looks like a horsedrawn train car. The stage will take spectators |
|
back uptown from the hanging. |
|
|
|
He is working his way toward Jenny, who is now BOARDING the stage. |
|
Amsterdam DASHES through the crowd and SQUEEZES onto the stage, which |
|
moves forward with a JOLT. |
|
|
|
Once on board, Amsterdam looks through the jammed car, SEES: Jenny, about |
|
to sit down - A MAN has offered her his seat. She smiles dazzlingly as she |
|
sits... |
|
|
|
... and arranges her hands genteelly on her lap. The Man looks down on her |
|
and she smiles up at him again. He is bequiled. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam manages to get a little closer. |
|
|
|
MAN |
|
I hope you won't think me rude if I speak. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
No, sir. You look a proper Gentleman down to the ground. |
|
|
|
As this conversation continues, we watch-not only Jenny and The Man in |
|
conversation, and Amsterdam watching them; but we begin to notice what |
|
Amsterdam SEES. Although Jenny's hands apparently remain folded on her |
|
lap, her RIGHT HAND moves SLOWLY out from her wrap... toward The Man... |
|
|
|
MAN |
|
Well, I wouldn't want you to think me forward, you see. |
|
|
|
... and BRUSHES past his jacket. He does not notice or feel a thing. |
|
Jenny's hand GLIDES past his THIGH ... nearly brushing it ... moving up |
|
across his pelvis and around his buttocks... |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Does it matter to you what I think? |
|
|
|
MAN |
|
Well, I might like it to. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Oh. |
|
|
|
...toward his pocket. The Man is in Jenny's thrall. He feels nothing and |
|
continues to have no idea what is going on. But Amsterdam KNOWS. Every |
|
silken, surreptitious move of her HAND across The Man's body is like a |
|
CARESS that Amsterdam can feel. Jenny's grace is balletic and EROTIC. As |
|
she picks The Man's pocket, she is, without knowing it, also seducing |
|
Amsterdam |
|
|
|
MAN |
|
I mean, if you would like. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I might like, sir. But I can't say now. |
|
|
|
Her hand HOVERS above his pocket, waiting for the SWAY of the stage to |
|
match and mask her movement.... |
|
|
|
MAN |
|
Why? |
|
|
|
... and she starts to get up as soon as the stage JOSTLES. The entire car |
|
full of passengers LEANS into one another... |
|
|
|
... and Jenny's hand SLIDES the Man's WALLET from his trousers as |
|
|
|
he recovers his balance. Amsterdam watches her withdraw her HAND in a |
|
flash and hide it beneath her wrap. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Because this is my stop. |
|
|
|
MAN |
|
May I walk with you a little, then? |
|
JENNY |
|
(firmly) |
|
That would be too bold. |
|
|
|
MAN |
|
But I'll never see you again. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I come every Thursday to the Tombs to see my father. |
|
|
|
MAN |
|
I'll look for you. |
|
|
|
Jenny fetches him another fine SMILE--it's almost demure--and takes her |
|
way off the rear entrance of the stage. |
|
|
|
lt PULLS AWAY up Broadway and Jenny walks briskly toward an alley. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
46 EXT. ALLEY/BROADWAY DAY |
|
|
|
Jenny looks to make sure she has the alley to herself, then moves her body |
|
a little... |
|
|
|
... and her arms seem to come off. She has been wearing a set of |
|
ARTIFICIAL ARMS, hollow inside, which she can leave folded on her lap |
|
misleadingly while she goes about her pickpocketing. |
|
|
|
She's folding up the appliance--cotton sewn over a soft form-when a VOICE |
|
behind her makes her turn. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
May I walk with you a little, then? |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
47 EXT. BROADWAY DAY |
|
|
|
As Jenny and Amsterdam walk through the noisy bustle of the city's main |
|
thoroughfare. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Are you a spy, then? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Got no one to spy for. I'm an appreciator, you might say. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Appreciator of what? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
A good touch. |
|
|
|
She STOPS in the street, looks him straight in the eye. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Don't bother with the chat. If you want me, we come to a business |
|
arrangement. lf the terms is right, then I decide how you suit me. Then I |
|
do it or not. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Just take a minute, I was Just... |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I know what you was just. I had years already of what you was just. You |
|
know how I got so good at thieving? So's I wouldn't have to lay down for |
|
everyone who had the ned. Now I do it when I want to for how much I want |
|
to. Otherwise I don't do it, and don't have to do it, and to hell with |
|
anyone's rules but my own. |
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What about Shang's rules? You pay a lot over to him. The better your day, |
|
the better his. It don't seem gute right. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(a little curious now) |
|
What's it to you? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Give him this. |
|
|
|
He hands her the RED SILK SCARF. She recognizes it instantly as the same |
|
one she gave Shang. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
|
|
And you can keep a little more of what you earned. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
How'd you come by this? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I got my own touch. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Are you making me a present, or making an Arrangement? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
It's your rules, right? So you decide. |
|
|
|
She looks at him for a moment, then starts to TIE the scarf around her |
|
neck like a kerchief. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
48 INT. HIDEOUT |
|
|
|
A gentlemen's WALLET skims across a pitted wooden table, straight into |
|
Shang's hand. Jenny is giving him her CUT. He opens the wallet, looks up |
|
at Jenny. No more goods are forthcoming. Amsterdam, hanging back, watches |
|
them both. |
|
|
|
Shang SEES the RED SILK SCARF, tied around her neck. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
Pretty slim cut for a hanging day. Where'd you get that? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
From Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
(beat) |
|
It don't suit you. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
49 EXT. STREET AND PARADISE SQUARE NIGHT |
|
|
|
A SWELTERING evening. The streets are jammed with REVELERS and RESIDENTS. |
|
Some people sleep in doorways in futile search for fresh air. Happy Jack |
|
Mulraney leads a group of apprehensive UPTOWN CITIZENS past drunks and |
|
whores. |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
Commissioner Brunt said to spare you nothing concerning conditions. |
|
|
|
CITIZEN |
|
Nothing but our safety, of course. |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
All's snug around Paradise Square in my company, squire. See there. |
|
|
|
He gestures toward the street, down which one oi Mr. Barnett Baff's CARTS |
|
is being drawn by a team of WHEEZING NAGS. |
|
|
|
The cart bears massive barrels of what a colorful banner advertises as "an |
|
anti-pestilence influenza-thwarting solution... a service of Tammany |
|
Hall." As the wagon draws abreast of a large group of languishing |
|
RESIDENTS, HOSES spurt waves of solution all over the streets. Many people |
|
are SOAKED. Jack and his Citizens jump back just in time.' |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
Tammany makes the streets nanitary, I make 'am safe. |
|
|
|
WOMAN CITIZEN |
|
(apprehensive) |
|
Even against them? |
|
|
|
A small distance behind the anti-plague cart, moving in rough formation, |
|
come some of Shang's mob, heading aimlessly across the Square cruising for |
|
action |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
Against them especially. Let me demonstrate. |
|
|
|
Jack takes out his GOLD WATCH AND CHAIN, which he HANGS carefully over a |
|
nearby lamppost. Then, very casually, he leads the Citizens off. |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
We'll be back for this at our leisure. |
|
|
|
WOMAN CITIZEN |
|
You dare leave it here? |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
Safe as a vault, lady. Since all knows it's mine. |
|
|
|
The Gang draws abreast of the lamppost. No one makes a move to take the |
|
watch until one of the YOUNGEST BOYS reaches out ... but |
|
|
|
Shang knocks his hand away. Jack, at a distance, NODS approvingly. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
You know that's Jack's. |
|
|
|
BOY |
|
So what? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
It should be hangin' off Jack's vest, then. Not here, like some war flag. |
|
SHANG |
|
That watch is a small price for free run of the Points. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
If it's free, how come we pay so much? Wo shouldn't pay for what's our due. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
We don't tight when we don't have to. It's not warring that counts. It's |
|
the living day to day. |
|
|
|
ANSTERDAM |
|
(smiles) |
|
Is that right? Did I hear that correct? John, did we hear that correct? |
|
|
|
Eyes now on Johnny. Jenny looks at him with great interest. |
|
|
|
JOHN |
|
(uneasy pause) |
|
We heard the same. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
So then. |
|
|
|
He reaches for the watch. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
50 EXT. STREET AND PARADISE SQUARE NIGHT |
|
|
|
Happy Jack stands at the lamppost, aghast. A WOMAN lowers her head and |
|
retches. Jackls watch and chain are still in place. |
|
|
|
But the watch has been SMASHED. And hanging from the chain is a BLACK CAT, |
|
skinned and strangled. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
51 INT- HIDEOUT |
|
|
|
Happy Jack stands with his Citizens. The room QUIETS as, one by one, the |
|
mob notices him. |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
You! |
|
|
|
He GRABS the Young Boy who had reached for his watch on the lamppost and |
|
starts to BEAT him. |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
What'd you do to my watch, you dirty little bastard... |
|
|
|
Jack breaks the Boy's hand with his nightstick. The Boy SCREAMS |
|
|
|
and FAINTS. So does one of the Women in the group. Jack takes the Boy's |
|
other hand. |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
Hands won't be so quick in future. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
That's enough sport this evening, Jack. |
|
JOHNNY |
|
(stepping forward) |
|
It wasn't him. |
|
|
|
All turn to look at Johnny. Jack drops the Boy's hand. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I have word for you from who did it. You're to meet him at Sparrow's |
|
Chinese Pagoda. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
52 INT. SPAPROW'S CHINESE PAGODA NIGHT |
|
|
|
A low and lunatic place: a combination of an opium dream out of the |
|
Arabian Nights and a panel from a Bosch triptych. FAN-TAN games played by |
|
Orientals; WOMEN and CHILDREN of various colors suspended in cages from |
|
the ceiling as MEN and WOMEN in a secondfloor GALLERY point at them and |
|
JOKE. On the main floor, a long line waits for a shot at the barrel of |
|
All-Sorts. Jack charges in the front door, looks around. |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
All right, step out, you yellow... |
|
|
|
All the NOISE subsides. Only the Fan-Tan game continues; |
|
|
|
nothing is so interesting that these Orientals will stop gambling. |
|
|
|
Now Amsterdam STEPS right in front of him. It's a grandstand play. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Hello, Happy Jack. I'm the one you're looking for. |
|
|
|
JACK |
|
Then you're marked for dead. |
|
|
|
Jack lunges ahead, swinging his NIGHT STICK. Amsterdam throws a chair |
|
across his path. Jack stumbles, goes down, dropping his night stick. |
|
Amsterdam grabs it, jumps on top of him, HITS him twice on the side of the |
|
head. There is a CRACKING SOUND. The PATRONS of the Pagoda gather round. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
53 INT. SPARROW'S CHINESE PAGODA NIGHT |
|
|
|
Later. Festive again. And no sign of Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
Two PATRONS step away from the all-sorts barrel. Hanging from the spigot |
|
like the cat from the watch chain is the BODY of Happy Jack Mulraney. The |
|
belt has been removed from his trousers, tied like a NOOSE around his |
|
throat, then looped over the spigot. His TEETH lie scattered on the floor |
|
around him. His NIGHT STICK has been jammed down his throat. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
54 EXT. DOCKS/HIDEOUT NIGHT |
|
|
|
Amsterdam holds the FANCY COAT from Jack's uniform over his arm. |
|
Carefully, he DRAPES the coat over Jenny's shoulders. SHANG steps forward. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
I gave no order for this. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam says nothing at first, just holds his hand out: he's holding the |
|
RED SILK SCKRF. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(very quietly) |
|
Never mind giving orders. What were you giving this for? |
|
SHANG |
|
I'm calling you out, Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I got this at the hanging. It was Charles McGloin's. Everybody here saw |
|
you take it from Jenny. What was MCGloin doing with it? What'd you give it |
|
to him for? |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
I didn't give it to him. Why would I give it to him? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I gaw you give it to him. Last week, behind the Old Brewery. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
(to group) |
|
He's gone flat. I got no reason to trade with the Native Americans. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What about stepping up in the world, as it were, and leaving the rest of |
|
us behind. There's a reason. Making a separate arrangement for yourself |
|
with the one Native so stupid and luckless that he got hung. That's you to |
|
the ground, Shang. |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
(very edgy now; to group) |
|
Who believes what he's saying? Can any of you believe what he's saying? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Bene. We'll see. Any of you that believes I did proper by Happy Jack |
|
Mulraney tonight, stand beside me. Any of you that still likes Shang's way |
|
with the cops, and Shang's way with the Natives, go to him. |
|
(to Shang) |
|
Or should we settle right now, you and me, and just see which of us is |
|
left standing? |
|
|
|
SHANG |
|
Let see where they stand. |
|
|
|
Jenny rises, stands next to Amsterdam. Jimmy Spoils, Johnny, Sheeny Mike |
|
are next. Now the other members of the mob move in clusters to all STAND |
|
with Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What's your pleasure, Shang? |
|
|
|
One of the YOUNG BOYS has a dead rat blackjack hanging from his belt. |
|
Shang grabs it. He BITES the head oft the rat and spits it across at |
|
Amsterdam. Amsterdam almost smiles at him. Shang sneers, drops the body of |
|
the rat, and LEAVES. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
This mob ever have a proper name? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
We was called after Shang when we was named at all. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
We're the Dead Rabbits from now. They were the best. They were history. |
|
They were legend, and we'll live up to them. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
55 EXT. DOCKS/WATERFRONT NIGHT |
|
|
|
Amsterdam sits on an empty pier, watching the ships in the river. There's |
|
a SUDDEN RUSTLING NOISE as a NOOSE coils around his neck. |
|
|
|
It's Jenny. She's slipped the SILK Amsterdam gave her close to his throat, |
|
and she's TIGHTENING it. Amsterdam starts to resist. Then he sees how's |
|
she's looking at him. |
|
|
|
She uses the silk to bring his face closer to hers. She KISSES him. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What's this then? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Payment for the silk. |
|
|
|
Then DROPS the silk from his throat and starts to touch him. Then his |
|
hands are under her skirt. Then, under the cloudy moonlight, they start to |
|
make love. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
56 EXT. DOCKS/WATERFRONT NIGHT |
|
|
|
Later. Amsterdam pulls Happy Jack's uniform COAT over Jenny to keep her |
|
warm in the chill air. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You were waiting for me out here, weren't you? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Maybe I was, yeah. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You was that sure of me? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Sure enough to wait, anyway. Waiting don't cost nothing. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
It don't do to be sure. I could go away just as easy. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Alright. |
|
|
|
He sweeps the coat away from her body, allowing her to leave. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I'll say when I want to, not you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Stay then. |
|
(beat; smile) |
|
One way or another, I get what I want. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(looking at him) |
|
Yeah. If it was just a shag you wanted. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You're a gypsy, are you, come to tell my fortune? Go ahead then. Tell me |
|
what I'm wanting. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You got blood in your eye for someone. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
It's just I can't look away, that's all. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Who from? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Bill Poole. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You better get someone else in your sights. No one's ever taken him. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
'Cause he's mine, that's why. I'll take his one eye, and then the rest of |
|
him, piece by small piece. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You have a plan for this? You going to raise a militia? I'll wager Bill |
|
the Butcher don't even know about you or care if he does. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
He'll know about me soon enough. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
And after the Butcher? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Is that so? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You'll be in love with me. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Love you? You just had me. You can have a mort any time you want. So why |
|
look for more than that. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
That's taking love, not giving it. I want it to be just you and me, no one |
|
else for either. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Why? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
'Cause none of us means nothing in life except one to the other. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I don't know I want to mean something, to you or anybody. Can there be |
|
good in that? |
|
|
|
He stares at her. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
We'll see. |
|
|
|
Jenny pulls the coat tighter around her. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
It'll take a while if we do. If we ever do. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
And what about the meantime? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Meantime's business. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
57 EXT PARADISE SQUARE DAY |
|
|
|
A CROWD gathers in one of the main thoroughfares bisecting the 5 Points. A |
|
beefy SPEAKER is making an anti-Irish speech on behalf of James W. Barker, |
|
a mayoral candidate supported by Tammany's current rivals, the |
|
Know-Nothing Party. Hand-painted signs are everywhere, bearing Barker's |
|
unsavory likeness. A couple of BUSKERS provide a musical score for the |
|
political spiel. |
|
|
|
SPEAKER |
|
The potato is a thick vegetable. Heavy. Meaty. Comes out of the ground |
|
dirty and stays that way unless you scrub it and boil it to death! |
|
(cheers and laughs from crowd) |
|
We don't want to keep lem out of the country! We'll even give 'em a place |
|
at our table! But we ain't gonna vote 'em into office. |
|
|
|
Much CHEERING and jovial approval from the Crowd. On its fringes, |
|
Amsterdam and the Dead Rabbits make their way roughly across the Square. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
Any Irish hears that will be out for blood. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
The Irish is too busy building up Tammany. That's where their brains and |
|
muscle goes. Once they're inside with their cronies, they turn on their |
|
own outside. Tammany'd steal the air and rent the daylight if they could. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
We'd do the same. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDkM |
|
Not against our own we wouldn't. That's the difference. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Tammany earns better. That's the difference. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I ain't seen their ned yet. |
|
|
|
Johnny stops walking, betraying slight annoyance that he has to explain |
|
the day's deal. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
You will at day's end, that's our arrangement. A quarter a voter, whether |
|
they're repeaters or not. I'm telling you, we got a square deal. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
It's sound, Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Yeah? Well, it's ned anyway. Just make sure you count it when we get it. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
It's just a day's job, we don't have to make it a life's work. We work for |
|
Tammany today and kill them tomorrow, if that's our pleasure. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
So we're politicians just for today. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Not for a minute. We're better than that. We're thieves. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
58 MONTAGE |
|
|
|
The Dead Rabbits go about the business of rounding up Tammany voters. They |
|
pick up DRUNKS in alleys; Jenny and some of the Dead Rabbit MORTS raust |
|
PATRONS in a whore house; Rabbits shanghai SAILORS from saloons; corral |
|
CITIZENS as they walk along the street, either wheedling or bullying to |
|
get them to vote. It's the strong arm of democracy. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
59 EXT. POLLING PLACE DAY |
|
|
|
On one side of the door, some Dead Rabbits, with a RABBLE of potential |
|
voters; on the other, POLICE doing their best. Behind and all around, |
|
various WARD HEELERS and SMALL-TIME POLITICIANS, representing both the |
|
Know-Nothing candidate Barker and Tammany's Fernando Wood. Varicus |
|
factions push and pull at one another as they wedge their VOTERS into the |
|
polls. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
He's got the right to vote, damn you! |
|
COP |
|
Not four times he don't. |
|
(shoves a Voter) |
|
There'll be no damned repeaters here! |
|
|
|
The Cop and Jimmy play tug-of-war with a besotted VOTER, while other gang |
|
members rush to GRAB VOTERS leaving the polls. |
|
|
|
PANDEMONIUM. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
60 INT. TAMMANY HALL DAY |
|
|
|
The main floor is jammed with CLUBMEN and PARTY RACKS. Daniel Killoran |
|
bustles from group to group, making promises, taking notes and searching |
|
out Boss Tweed, who is holding court in a far corner, surrounded by |
|
JOURNALISTS. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I would never speak ill of a rival. I would never say that every |
|
Know-Nothing is a horse thief. It is my observation, however, that every |
|
horse thief is a Know-Nothing. |
|
|
|
Good-natured LAUGHING all around. Even TWEED seems amused. Killoran |
|
catches the Boss' eye and whispers to him. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
The Know-Nothings are already finished, and there's four more hours at the |
|
polls yet. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Keep our men voting. Everybody works today. It's not a victory we need, |
|
Daniel. I want a triumph. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
61 INT. DON WHISKERANDOSO BARBER SHOP DAY |
|
|
|
Amsterdam roughly deposits REPEAT VOTERS in the barber chairs, as the |
|
BARBERS work FRANTICALLY to cut their hair, prune beards, and otherwise |
|
alter appearances. As soon as one customer is done, Sheeny Mike douses him |
|
with bay rum and pushes another REPEATER down in his place. Johnny keeps |
|
count of the turnover. |
|
|
|
DON WHISKERANDOS (BARBER) |
|
|
|
Now that's eight... and how many still to come ... |
|
|
|
He looks toward the door, where more Repeaters are lined up, waiting their |
|
turn under close supervision. |
|
|
|
REPEATER |
|
I already voted once today. Cast for Tammany, by God, and Fernando Wood. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Once? Come here and do your duty. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam GRABS him and SLAMS him down in a chair. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
62 INT. FAN-TAN PARLOR DAY |
|
|
|
Amsterdam and some RABBITS BURST into the front door, frightening and |
|
scattering all the Chinese GAMBLERS. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(barking orders) |
|
Line up like soldiers! |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
They got no notion what you're talking about. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(To Johnny) |
|
You explain their democratic right. Illl see they unterstand. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam GRABS the nearest two CHINESE by their PIGTAILS and |
|
HURLS them against the wall. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
63 INT. OPIUM DEN |
|
|
|
Amsterdam and the Rabbits PROWL the murky darkness where OPIUM EATERS lie |
|
in bunks stacked high against the walls. The Rabbits start ROUSING and |
|
rounding up the Opium Eaters. Jimmy Spoils SLINGS a couple over his |
|
shoulder like flour sacks. Amsterdam SHOVES two more out the door, past an |
|
admiring Daniel Killoran. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
(to Johnny) |
|
I come to see if our counts square. You boys have made a remarkable |
|
showing.... |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Who the hell's this? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
He's our Tammany man. |
|
|
|
Killoran compares his figures to the piece of paper where Johnny has been |
|
keeping his own count. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
... remarkable... |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(With an edge) |
|
Our own Tammany man. We are coming along. Happy to meet any friend of |
|
Johnny Siroccols. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
Likewise. Pleasure to meet the best but one in the whole Five Points. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Best but one? Who's better? |
|
|
|
Killoran looks up. Johnny, standing behind Amsterdam, SHAKES his head "NO" |
|
VIGOROUSLY. Killoran gets the message. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
(smooth) |
|
Maybe nobody. But when the count's done the numbers will tell who's come |
|
out in front. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I'm in no race. Just pay us what you owe. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
Tonight. At the victory celebration. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
64 INT. SPARROW'S CHINESE PAGODA |
|
|
|
A Tammany victory celebration. When we last saw this place--as Amsterdam |
|
confronted Happy Jack--the place was busy, alive. It's RIOTOUS now, jammed |
|
to bursting with POLITICIANS, CRIMINALS, GANG MEMBERS, MORTS, WHORES, |
|
HANGERS-ON, UPTOWN THRILL-SEEKERS, JOURNALISTS and COPS, not all of them |
|
off duty. The SOUND of the place is a cacophony of SHOUTING, SINGING, |
|
GAMBLING and STRANGE MUSIC--which we can't identify at first. We START |
|
CLOSE on a huge ruby ring and we HEAR... |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(V.O.) |
|
Read what it says there, alongside the ruby...read it out ... |
|
|
|
... and WE MOVE OUT as a WELL-WISHER reads the Latin inscription. |
|
|
|
64 CONTINUED: |
|
|
|
WELL-WISHER |
|
"Fortuna Juvat Ordentes." |
|
|
|
TWEED |
|
A grand victory gift from the men of Tammany. Now, tell 'em what it means, |
|
Mayor Wood. |
|
|
|
WOOD |
|
"Fortune favors the bold." |
|
|
|
TWEED gives him a resounding slap on the back. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
What do you think? Would that make a fit motto for our fair City? |
|
|
|
WOOD |
|
Well, I could certainly see ... |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
(interrupting) |
|
We've got a motto. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
what is it? |
|
(no one knows) |
|
Well, hell, let's get one we can remember. We're going to build a new City |
|
hall, we better have something to put over the front door. And Mayor, |
|
you'll make sure the Latin's right? |
|
|
|
As Wood nods his assent, CAMERA MOVES across room... |
|
|
|
... past the gilded CAGES suspended ten feet over the floor, where the |
|
women and children look down at the action just below them with a mixture |
|
of trepidation and resignation. Occasionally a REVELER will jump up to try |
|
and GRAB one of the caged inhabitants. Still MOVING, CAMERA... |
|
|
|
... passes a stage, where we finally SEE the source of all the strange |
|
MUSIC we've been hearing: the music is provided by |
|
|
|
CHINESE MUSICIANS, a woman SINGER, a DANCER and some ACROBATS. They |
|
perform some weird, mangled Five Points version of Chinese opera. The |
|
music and performance continues as we MOVE PAST... |
|
|
|
... across a PEWTER FAN-TAN TABLE, where CHINESE GAMBLERS play with fierce |
|
animation and concentration. By comparison, the Occidental types playing |
|
beside them seem like tourists. |
|
|
|
Everyone SHOUTS and SCRAMBLES to place bets with the FAN-TAN DEALER. |
|
|
|
Above the Dealer is an oval opening in the ceiling, through which OTHER |
|
PLAYERS may watch the action below. These FAN-TAN PLAYERS lean over an |
|
elegantly carved rail, peering at the action on the table below, placing |
|
their bets and collecting their winnings by means of a BASKET attached to |
|
WIRES that whirrs constantly overhead. We continue to MOVE PAST... |
|
|
|
... until we are at the door of the place, where Amsterdam, Johnny and the |
|
Rabbits are having words with a BOUNCER. |
|
|
|
BOUNCER |
|
I don't know you, you don't enter. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(enjoying himself) |
|
Come on, what are you saying? If you don't know us now, you'll know us |
|
tomorrow and you'll be working for us next week. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(more temperate) |
|
Daniel Killoran knows us. |
|
|
|
BOUNCER |
|
Oh he does? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
We work for him. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
The hell we do. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(to Amsterdam) |
|
Tampen down, will you? |
|
|
|
BOUNCER |
|
Why don't you all get the hell out of here and go fix on a story? Go on! |
|
|
|
He SHOVES Johnny, who STUMBLES back into Amsterdam. They're both mad now, |
|
and they step forward together toward the Bouncer... |
|
|
|
... until Killoran intervenes. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
(to Bouncer) |
|
It's all right, Nat. They're saying the truth. They gave a good day's work |
|
for a good wage. |
|
|
|
Killoran HANDS OVER a paper-wrapped parcel of money, which Amsterdam takes |
|
firmly. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
A fine first showing. But second best. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Second, eh? You don't say so. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
It's no shame to be bested by veterans. The Native Americans always sweep |
|
the field. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What? |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
We count on them sure as mass comes an Sunday. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(to Johnny, glaring) |
|
Did you know this? Is this some scheme of yours? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
No, I didn't have no idea ... |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I was working the same side as the Natives? The Natives? |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
That's only right. Bill the Butcher's our ambassador throughout the |
|
Points, as you might say. It's deemed an honor to work with him. Everyone |
|
knows Bill Poole, everyone fears him, everyone ... |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I sure as hell don't fear him. And I sure as hell won't stand with him, or |
|
any who calls him one of theirs. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
Well, if it's matter of personal honor, the money can only be a further |
|
insult. I have no wish to rile you further, so if you'll allow me... |
|
|
|
He REACHES to take back the parcel of money, but Amsterdam BATS his hand |
|
away. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Where is he? Where's Bill the Butcher? |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
Listen, buck. This is a Tammany night. If you and Bill Poole have matters |
|
to settle, you can do it any other time, any other place, I don't give a |
|
good dancing goddamn. But you do it here tonight and all the Five Points |
|
will be down on you like the righteous wrath of heaven. or you could, as |
|
the Book says, put away childish things. Join the celebration. Personally, |
|
I always find the least strenuous solution the most appealing. Don't you? |
|
|
|
Amsterdam stares at him as we... |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
65 INT. SPARROW'S CHINESE PAGODA |
|
|
|
As a CHINESE ACROBAT TWIRLS in the air, off the stage, and lands in the |
|
middle of the audience. The crowd is raucously appreciative as the Acrobat |
|
does GYMNASTIC MOVES among them... |
|
|
|
... past a table where the Dead Rabbits have settled. it is later in the |
|
evening, and everyone has been drinking. |
|
Amsterdam, sullen, intense, WATCHES ... |
|
|
|
..Bill the Butcher, across the room. He is like a prince regent. Everyone |
|
pays him court, including several uniformed COPS, TAMMANY HANGERS-ON, and |
|
NEWSPAPERMEN. Bill receives the attention as his due.... |
|
|
|
... while Amsterdam keeps watching, contempt and hatred gleaming in his |
|
eye. He pays attention to none of the gang around, including Jenny. Johnny |
|
takes advantage of the situation. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I got experience. It's the education I lack. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
And you heard I was a good teacher? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I don't listen to talk, I figure for myself. And I figured you'd be good |
|
at everything you did. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
That's right. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
And tonight I got the ned. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
And now what? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Now I'm ready for you. Unless there's an arrangement between you and |
|
Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(glancing over at Amsterdam) |
|
Not to my thinking. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(needs to be sure) |
|
Amsterdam... listen up, Amsterdam... |
|
|
|
Amsterdam glances over at them. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(to Johnny) |
|
You going with me or him? It's my thinking matters here. You don't have to |
|
ask him nothing. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(makes his decision) |
|
How's the evening passing? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Fine. Why? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(puts his arm around Jenny) |
|
'Cause it's treating me fine too. |
|
|
|
She gets up and starts toward the stairs to the second floor, Johnny |
|
following her, holding her hand. As they pass Amsterdam he LEANS toward |
|
Jenny. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
This is no game, you and me. Don't go on like it's a game. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I said already, it's not a game. It's business. |
|
|
|
Johnny pulls her away. As he watches her go through the crowd, Amsterdam's |
|
gaze falls on Bill the Butcher again... |
|
|
|
... and for the first tine their EYES MEET. Bill's eyes rest on Amsterdam, |
|
take him all in... but DON'T REMEMBER him. He looks away as a TAMMANY HACK |
|
steps up to pay court.... |
|
|
|
.... and a MASTER OF REVELS, center-floor, SHOUTS ... |
|
|
|
MASTER OF REVELS |
|
Gentlemen and gentlewomen, if you please ... we will now... raise the |
|
cages and start the bidding! |
|
|
|
The Crowd CHEERS and KIDS PULL on a series of ropes and pulleys to RAISE |
|
the CAGES further above the floor until they are parallel with the |
|
second-floor gallery of the Pagoda. WOMEN AND MEN call out BIDS even as |
|
the cages rise through the air. Depending on their age, the Women and |
|
children inside the cages respond to the auction with grim resignation, |
|
trepidation or fear. A few, drugged or drunk on all-sorts, lie insensible |
|
in their impossibly cramped space. |
|
|
|
Johnny and Jenny make their way along the second floor gallery until she |
|
spots a COUPLE LEAVING a room and walks inside. Johnny CLOSES the door |
|
behind them as a BURST of APPLAUSE... |
|
|
|
... rises from the main floor, where Bill the Butcher stands in the dead |
|
center of the room. He slowly removes his coat and hands it to a FLUNKY. |
|
He is wearing his battle vest underneath, and it is fully rigged with all |
|
his butcher's implements. |
|
|
|
The place QUIETS. KIDS swarm silently, like busy ants, all over a huge |
|
wooden CHANDELIER, LIGHTING its HUNDREDS of CANDLES. Only the noise from |
|
the Chinese playing fan-tan in the far corner of the room can be heard now. |
|
|
|
The Kids finish lighting the candles and the chandelier is RAISED toward |
|
the Pagoda ceiling, casting the whole place into a new riot of LIGHT and |
|
SHADOW as The Butcher prepares himself. |
|
|
|
Now the Chinese Opera DANCER steps forward and stands near Bill. He NODS. |
|
The unsprung MUSIC begins. The DANCER starts to move, sinuously... |
|
|
|
...and Bill, with amazing skill, starts THROWING his KNIVES. The knife |
|
MISSES the Dancer by a hairsbreadth, landing in the floor near her foot. |
|
She doesn't flinch. She keeps dancing. And Bill keeps THROWING... |
|
|
|
... the KNIVES, which follow the Dancer around the room in a careful, |
|
deadly choreography. They land just inches from where she has just been, |
|
or will be: in a wall; a pillar; the apron of the small stage; the bar; |
|
the barrel of all-sorts. After each knife LANDS, kids retrieve it. When |
|
one of the KNIFE KIDS pulls the blade from the all-sorts barrel, DRUNKS |
|
knock each other over to drink from the stream that flows from the hole. |
|
|
|
Native Americans, meanwhile, WORK THROUGH the awed, attentive Crowd. They |
|
AVOID Cops, Tammany Members and anyone who looks too prosperous or too |
|
sober. But when one of the Natives SPOTS a MARGINAL CITIZEN, they GRAB his |
|
hand and examine it as if they were telling fortunes. |
|
|
|
Center floor, Bill pulls TWO KNIVES out, BALANCES one in each hand ... |
|
|
|
... as a WHORE in the crowd pushes a guy who's groping her toward a couple |
|
of Natives. Hels wearing a large RING. As soon as the Natives SEE the ring |
|
they throw their arms around the GROPER like a long-lost pal and escort |
|
him to Bill ... |
|
|
|
... who THROWS both knives rapidly at the Dancer. They land on the floor, |
|
inches from her dancing feet. She SPINS AWAY to great applause as the |
|
Natives bring the Groper to Bill. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Evening, sir. Are you prepared to be celebrated? Are you ready to be |
|
famous? |
|
|
|
GROPER |
|
How much will it cost? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Just a moment of your time. My men will assist you. |
|
|
|
They do quite a bit more than that: they GRAB the Groper and KNOCK him to |
|
the floor. In the crowd, one SPECTATOR turns to his companion. |
|
|
|
PAGODA SPECTATOR |
|
Watch this careful. I've never seen the like, not even in Barnum's Museum. |
|
|
|
The Groper CRIES OUT as the Natives PIN HIM to the floor, SPREADEAGLED. |
|
Bill has one weapon left... in a special pocket, inside his vest. It's his |
|
CLEAVER. He takes it out slowly, SAVORING the moment. |
|
|
|
The Pagoda goes QUIET. Only the gambling continues. The MUSIC dies. The |
|
only SOUND beside the noises of the Chinese at their fan-tan is the |
|
Groper, who HOLLERS for help as soon as he sees the cleaver. |
|
|
|
Bill HEFTS the cleaver in his hand, feels its weight, calculates timing, |
|
figures distance .... and starts THROWING it in the air... |
|
|
|
... CATCHING it by the handle ... then throwing it again... higher, FASTER |
|
and HARDER with every toss. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
(in full control) |
|
What's it so quiet for? I don't need quiet. |
|
|
|
The Chinese opera MUSIC commences with a dissonant CRASH... |
|
|
|
... and Bill catches the cleaver again. But EVERY TIME he throws it and |
|
every time he catches it by its handle ... |
|
|
|
... he also MOVES CLOSER to the terrified Groper. Now... standing |
|
very close... he gives the cleaver a mighty toss ... |
|
|
|
... sending it SPINNING high in the air... up past the cages ... past the |
|
second-floor gallery, jammed with appreciative spectators ... until it |
|
SLOWS ... seems to HANG in the air... then starts its descent... |
|
|
|
... FALLING FASTER... towards Bill's waiting, STEADY HAND. |
|
|
|
The Groper SCREAMS in fear. Bill SMILES confidently, holding his hand out |
|
until ... just as smoothly, just as confidently... |
|
|
|
... he PULLS his hand AWAY and the cleaver FALLS with terrific impact on |
|
the SPLAYED HAND of the Groper, cleanly SEVERING it at the wrist. The |
|
Groper FAINTS dead away as a TREMENDOUS CHEER greets Bill's amazing feat. |
|
One of the Natives TOSSES Bill the severed hand. |
|
|
|
Bill SLIDES the ring off the finger and TOSSES it to the Chinese Dancer. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
There's for your beauty and your song. |
|
|
|
The Dancer puts the ring on her finger and DANCES OFF. Bill TOSSES the |
|
hand to the floor and walks back to his table. The Crowd PARTS, murmuring |
|
compliments on his dexterity, and the Knife Kids reverently RETURN the |
|
Butcher's implements. |
|
|
|
Now two DOGS from the rat pit in the back room RUN through the crowd and |
|
FIGHT FRENZIEDLY over possession of the bloody hand. |
|
|
|
The Crowd PASSES the Groper overhead and WE SEE from ABOVE: the Groper's |
|
unconscicus BODY being passed from hand to hand. The Crowd looks like a |
|
wave bearing the body toward the door. The Groper's stump BLEEDS on them |
|
as he passes overhead, sprinkling drops of blood and flesh like a moveable |
|
sacrament. |
|
|
|
Bill approaches his table, acknowledging the continuing adulation, and is |
|
about to sit down when a VOICE rises above all others. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Mr. Poole! |
|
|
|
Bill turns, searching out the voice ... |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Bill Poole! |
|
|
|
And SEES Amsterdam, standing at his own table. His attitude is calm, |
|
smiling, respectful. But his eyes are demonic. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
My compliments on your exhibition, sir. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Thank you, sir. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
It was like watching a dance. |
|
(Bill nods his thanks) |
|
Some great grand goddamned dance. (Bill looks at him more closely) |
|
You know me, sir. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Do I? Are you missing a finger? |
|
|
|
Appreciative laughter from the crowd. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
No. A father. |
|
|
|
The laughter turns a little uneasy. Bill the Butcher sizes up the younger |
|
man. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Do you have a name? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
That's a New York name. |
|
(suddenly smiles) |
|
shall we drink to it? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Indeed. |
|
(they drink) |
|
And to my other name. Vallon. Will you drink to that? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Priest Vallon's son? |
|
(Amsterdam nods) |
|
Of course I'll drink to that. Your father was a worthy man. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Not worthy of you. Those dogs ain't worthy of you. You ain't worth what |
|
they feed on, and what they shit's too good for you. |
|
|
|
DEAD QUIET. Absolute. Breathless. Only the Chinese Gamblers at their |
|
fan-tan ignore this confrontation. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
What do you want, boyo? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I got to give you something, Butcher. Something from my father. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam PULLS OUT the piratels knife which Bill the Butcher used to kill |
|
his father almost 12 years before. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You got the sand to draw a blade in front of me? You will make good sport. |
|
Come ahead and give it here, you son of a bitch. |
|
|
|
|
|
And Amsterdam THROWS the knife, the bright blade FLASHING OUT of his hand |
|
like lightning. |
|
|
|
And just as quickly the Buitcher PICKS UP his table, sending glasses |
|
flying and breaking, using it as a SHIELD... |
|
|
|
... and the knife THUMPS into it dead center. The Butcher HEAVES the table |
|
at Amsterdam...sending PATRONS yelling and SCATTERING. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam LEAPS out of the way of the table, then RUNS AT Bill the |
|
Butcher... |
|
|
|
... who's already coming for him. As they CLASH and GRAPPLE with each |
|
other... |
|
|
|
... PATRONS all over the Pagoda crowd around for a good view of the action |
|
and start to MAKE BETS on the outcome. The odds do not favor Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
And neither does the fight. Amsterdam fights with real blood lust, but he |
|
doesn't have the Butcher's skill, or experience, or dispassion. He breaks |
|
the Butcher's CLINCH... HITS him once in the face... then a second time |
|
... and then gets FLOORED by a well placed kick. The Crowd cheers. |
|
|
|
And, on the second floor, Jenny and Johnny come out of the room. Still |
|
arranging her clothes, Jenny looks over the gallery rail onto the floor |
|
below, sees the fight... and starts to RUN down the stairs. Johnny WATCHES |
|
her go ... looks at the fight again, for a second... then follows Jenny to |
|
the main floor. |
|
|
|
The Butcher is on top of Amsterdam now. He HITS him upside the head with |
|
the wood and brass handle of his cleaver. Then hits him again. AND AGAIN. |
|
|
|
In the Crowd now, Jenny finds Sheeny Mike. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
The Butcher'll kill him if we don't do something. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
It was Amsterdam's own doing. And it'll be our death too if we try to stop |
|
it. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(finally catching up) |
|
That's the truth. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
The truth is you don't give a damn about him. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
Yeah, well, if he gave a damn about us he wouldn't have called out the |
|
Butcher in the first place. |
|
|
|
Jenny looks at him with contempt, then STARTS into the crowd. Johnny grabs |
|
her ARM but she pushes him off. |
|
|
|
On the floor, Bill uses the FLAT SIDE of the cleaver to SMACK the barely |
|
conscious Amsterdam on one side of his face... then on the other... |
|
REPEATEDLY... until Amsterdam is barely sensible. Bill grabs him by the |
|
hair. Amsterdam's body is slack. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
What do you say? Loin or shank? Rib or chop? |
|
|
|
The Crowd YELLS their choices. Jenny tries to PLUNGE through toward |
|
Amsterdam, but a HALF-DOZEN MORTS and WHORES put hands on her and HOLD her |
|
back. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Come on, let me hear you! |
|
(the Crowd yells louder) |
|
You're all talking at once, I can't hear you! |
|
(a near frenzy) |
|
I don't hear the choicest cut! The best, the vital! |
|
(they quiet a little to listen) |
|
The heart. I think I must have the heart! |
|
|
|
This is greeted with the biggest CHEER of the night. The newlyelected |
|
Mayor Wood seems to feel as if he should do something to stop the |
|
slaughter, but Boss Tweed calms him with a single dismissive GESTURE. Even |
|
the Boss himself is excited by the prospect of this ritual sacrifice. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Come on, look at it! You fancy yourself a gladiator, act a gladiator! |
|
(raises his cleaver) |
|
Watch the death blow when it comes to you. Go to hell with open eyes! |
|
|
|
Bill the Butcher readies himself to deliver the blow... and a HAND GRABS |
|
his wrist, STOPPING his arm. |
|
|
|
Who would dare do this to Bill the Butcher? Bill turns, incredulous, to |
|
look into... |
|
|
|
... the untroubled face of Monk Eastman. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
It's been a full evening's fun now, Butcher. It's enough. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You got nothing to do with this, Monk. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMKN |
|
Well I'm the game warden, you might say. I'm telling you this buck's too |
|
young yet. Wait till he's aged for a proper kill. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
The hell. |
|
|
|
With his gigantic strength, Monk actually PULLS the Butcher off Amsterdam |
|
and onto his feet. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMKN |
|
Just settle yourself Bill ... |
|
|
|
... and he part SHOVES, part THROWS Bill back a good twenty feet. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMKN |
|
... and let the merrymaking continue. |
|
|
|
The Dead Rabbits have scampered forward, and they're picking Amsterdam up |
|
off the floor. Monk looks at Jenny and Johnny, who each have Amsterdam by |
|
an arm. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
It was his father took me in first, and it's thanks I'm returning now. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Eastman! |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
(ignoring Bill) |
|
This squares any debt. Get him out of here. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Monk Eastman! |
|
|
|
As the Rabbits CARRY Amsterdam toward the door, Monk finally turns his |
|
attention back to Bill. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I'll have you then! |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
Come ahead, Bill. Unless you're wanting to shout me to death. |
|
|
|
And Bill comes forward, BRANDISHING his cleaver. Monk Eastman stands his |
|
ground, unmoving, untroubled. Everyone looks on in awe at this contest ... |
|
|
|
... except Boss Tweed. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(to Killoran) |
|
If these two are going to combat, it aught to be a worthier occasion. And |
|
more rewarding for all. |
|
|
|
Tweed SIGNALS to Bill: STOP. The Butcher sees the signal but can't believe |
|
it. He SHAKES his head. His blood is up. He won't stop. |
|
|
|
Tweed SIGNALS AGAIN. Bill KEEPS COMING. |
|
|
|
Tweed signals Killoran, who STANDS himself. And, when he stands, every COP |
|
and TAMMANY LOYALIST in the place--a hundred of them anyway--STAND behind |
|
Boss Tweed. |
|
|
|
As Bill keeps coming, and Monk stands easy, waiting... |
|
|
|
... the Natives and their ALLIES now stand, facing the Tammany crew. The |
|
Tammany backers, dressed flush and fancy, face the scruffier, more savage |
|
Five Points bunch: the twin factions of the criminal underworld, so |
|
different in style and so similar in purpose, SIZE EACH OTHER UP from |
|
opposite sides of the room. |
|
|
|
Bill STOPS. The odds are shifting, the stakes are climbing. Even the |
|
Chinese STOP GAMBLING. For the first time all evening the room is |
|
absolutely STILL. Even the Dead Rabbits have turned, at the door, to see |
|
what will happen. |
|
|
|
Tweed and the Butcher LOCK EYES: neither blinks. Then after a moment ... a |
|
very long moment ... a calm, bemused Tweed RAISES his glass. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I only wanted to thank you, Bill, for the customary good job today... and |
|
an equally bright future for us both. |
|
|
|
Another pause. Bill does not look placated. The whole place seems ready to |
|
explode... |
|
|
|
... until Boss Tweed RISES to his feet, and RAISES his glass higher. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Will you drink with me, Bill, as a friend? An honored friend. |
|
|
|
Bill weighs the proposition... then looks to his men, NODS his head to |
|
call them off. He GRABS a glass off a table to join Tweed's toast. |
|
|
|
The MUSIC begins again. The gambling recommences. Patrons take their |
|
seats. The Dead Rabbits help Amsterdam out the door. |
|
|
|
Monk Eastman sidles up to Bill the Butcher. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
If there's one thing I can't abide, it's fighting for free. |
|
|
|
He takes the Butcher's glass from his hand, raises it in salute, DRINKS |
|
DEEP and hands it back to him. |
|
|
|
At the door of the Pagoda, a badly beaten Ansterdam starts FLAILING and |
|
fighting by brute instinct. He HITS Jenny, and she goes down. Johnny |
|
grapples with him as Jenny PICKS HERSELF up and struggles to help SUBDUE |
|
Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Go easy! Go easy. It's over. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
He knew what he was doing, hitting you. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Let's get him up. |
|
|
|
She grabs Amsterdam's arm and, with Johnny's help, tries to HOIST him back |
|
to his feet. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(Looking at Amsterdam's bloody face) |
|
Therels too damn little of him left to know anything. |
|
|
|
They start across Paradise Square, holding him up... |
|
|
|
... as the rest of the Dead Rabbits join to help them... all growing |
|
smaller in the distance against the primeval nighttime landscape of the |
|
Five Points... |
|
|
|
... and the Bouncer CLOSES the door. |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
66 INT. DON WHISKERANDOS BARBER SHOP DAY |
|
|
|
Another DOOR OPENS, and Amsterdam stands on the threshold. A week or so |
|
has passed since the big night at Sparrow's Pagoda, but Amsterdam's face |
|
still shows the marks of Bill's beating. |
|
|
|
Don Whiskerandos is ministering to Monk Eastman with a straight razor, |
|
giving him a close and careful shave. Monk is thoroughly relaxed, doesn't |
|
even glance over when the door opens, hardly reacts when Don Whiskerandos |
|
says .... |
|
|
|
DON WHISKERANDOS |
|
Someone's here for you. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
That so? What's he look like? |
|
|
|
DON WHISKERANDOS |
|
He looks pretty damned sorry. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
(looks at Amsterdam) |
|
Indeed.- Can I buy you a shave? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
No thanks. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
Face is too sore, eh? I understand. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
No. I'm beholden enough to you as it is. I don't like to be beholden. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
We're all even, son. There's nothing more between us. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I'd like it if there was. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
Are you proposing employment? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
A collaboration. The Dead Rabbits got to get strong before we make another |
|
move. I figure you're the one to make us strong. There's a lot we can |
|
learn from you. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
Boyo, I'm a freebooter and a mercenary, not a teacher. I can't learn |
|
nothing from you and I can't earn nothing from you either. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
The Dead Rabbits is going to be glorious again. We're going to reign over |
|
the Points. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
And Bill Poole's Natives? What will they have to say? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Nothing. They won't have tongues left to speak. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
Don't worry about what theylll have in their mouths. You think about what |
|
they got in their hands. |
|
(beat) |
|
Listen, son... take a word from a man who was honored to fight beside your |
|
father. Temper yourself like a sword, and pay attention to balance. Anger |
|
spoils an edge. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Then you say no? |
|
|
|
Monk SIGHS and points to a huge WAR CLUB which hangs in a place of honor |
|
above the shop mirror. It has deep marks running along its front, like |
|
NOTCHES- |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
You see my instrument there? First notch represents two dollars and fifty |
|
cents. That's how much I got for my first kill. There are forty-eight more |
|
notches after it, and my fee has grown with each one. I can accommodate |
|
you alright, but you got to afford me. So do business with me or do it on |
|
your own. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Everything I got is still to come. So I guess it's on my own, then. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
Fair enough. You'll find independence a fine thing, a fierce thing. |
|
Although I do hold money preferable to all. |
|
(Amsterdam turns to leave) |
|
|
|
But I'm sure we'll have news of each other. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Bound to. |
|
|
|
As he shuts the door of the shop, Monk Eastman gestures to Don |
|
Whiskerandos for another hot towel. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
67 EXT. STREETS OFF PARADISE SQUARE DAY |
|
|
|
A large wagon bearing a Tammany banner and carrying dozens of small sacks |
|
of coal moves slowly down the narrow street. Boss Tweed sits on the front |
|
seat, next to the driver, as his minions HAND him coal sacks. Tweed |
|
distributes them with a smile to the NEEDY who trot next to the wagon. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(to the people as they grab the coal) |
|
Tammany's here to take the chill off the winter and the weight off your |
|
heart. It's Tammany can make this city a fit place, with the help and vote |
|
of all you good people... |
|
|
|
As he continues, Bill the Butcher JUMPS onto the wagon and sits down |
|
beside him. Boss Tweed hardly gives him a glance. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You sent me word. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
We could use help here. Grab a sack. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I keep my hands clean. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(now he looks at him) |
|
So I've observed. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
(tense) |
|
Better be on your mark to talk like that to me. It was you stopped me at |
|
the Pagoda. I would have cut Monk inside out. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
What if you hadn't? Think of the embarrassment. And what if you had? |
|
Consider the waste. Next time you're in a dust-up like that, think ahead |
|
and make proper plans. It'd be a grand source of revenue, whoever prevails. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
It touches my heart how you always. have our best interests in mind. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Our mutual interests. That's why I want you to contact Monk Eastman. |
|
(Bill's incredulous) |
|
I want you to extend a proposition. I want him to join US. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
What? |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Oh, not Tammany, of course not. We could no more have him there than you. |
|
But he should throw in with the Native Americans, become aware of our |
|
Arrangement and ... well, use his influence, shall we say, to enrich us |
|
all. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You're saying I can't do everything you need? You don't think the Natives |
|
has been doing good and right? You think there's something more he can do |
|
that I ... |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(interrupting) |
|
It's none of that, Bill. None of that. His independence is like a rebuke |
|
to Tammany. And an insult to you. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Then you should have let me have him at Sparrow's. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I should. If I'd been confident-absolutely certain--that you would have |
|
prevailed. Monk is an unpredictable power, and a figure of size. He needs |
|
to be reckoned with. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
He needs to be killed. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
No. He's an elemental force. Them you don't destroy. But you can contain |
|
them and use them for the good they give off. |
|
|
|
He hands Bill a sack of coal. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Coal? |
|
|
|
Bill doesn't answer. He HOPS DOWN off the moving wagon, and the Needy give |
|
way quickly before him, then regroup and SWARM after Tweed and his coal. |
|
The Boss continues with his Tammany spiel-enjoying all the attention--as |
|
the Butcher watches, disdainful of Tweed but filled with angry |
|
frustration. From his face we ... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
68 INT. DON WHISKERA.NDOS BARBER SHOP DAY |
|
|
|
... the incredulous face of Monk Eastman, as he looks at Bill the Butcher. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
And this is your offer? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
It's Boss Tweedls offer. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
How do you think we'd sit as allies, Bill? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
The only way we could tolerate being near each other would be stretched |
|
out dead. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
My thoughts exactly. Then why are you here? Because you were asked to be. |
|
You were ordered to be. And who would order me among the Natives? You? And |
|
would you follow my orders, even if they was being relayed from William |
|
Marcy Tweed himself? |
|
|
|
He EASES himself out of the barber chair. The Butcher TENSES as Monk comes |
|
toward him. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
Dubious and doubtful, my friend. But your offer--pardon, the offer you |
|
bring--is the most generous that's ever been extended. I favor the terms, |
|
if not the personalities. So let us decide the way any Native American |
|
would appreciate. We'll do it the democratic way. |
|
|
|
He throws open the door of the barber shop and stands there, beside Bill |
|
the Butcher, his arm thrown carelessly around him. PASSERSBY stop in |
|
wonderment as Monk ADDRESSES them. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
Citizens of the Five Points! It seems the Native Americans have come to |
|
trouble. They have grown so weak that now they seek my help. They can pay |
|
any wage I ask. But I ask you now. Even for money, should I carouse and |
|
conspire alongside a boyo like this with gristle on his knife and spittle |
|
on his chin every time his cock gets hard? |
|
|
|
Monk is beaming, the Butcher is appalled. His body tenses like a snake |
|
ready to spring. But the people in the street just STARE- They can't |
|
believe what they've just heard. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
(to Bill) |
|
There. You see. I'm afraid the people have spoken. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I'll see you again, you bog Irish bastard. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
Well, if it's a fight you want now, Bill, remember to come back with a |
|
bankroll. |
|
|
|
Monk returns to the shop and the comfort of his chair. Bill GLARES at the |
|
people in the street. One lock from him starts them moving fast. But they |
|
do not look away from him quite so fast, or at him, either, with quite the |
|
same fear. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
69 INT. MISSION (FORMERLY OLD BREWERY) NIGHT |
|
|
|
The vast main room has been changed into a dance floor and decorated for |
|
the evening. An altar has been hung with bunting; SHIP'S LANTERNS and |
|
CANDLES illuminate the place. The REVEREND SHADRACH RALEIGH GREETS |
|
everyone. The room, already crowded with CELEBRANTS of all ages, grows |
|
quiet as the Dead Rabbits, done up in their party best, show up for the |
|
revelry. |
|
|
|
REVEREND RALEIGH |
|
Ah, the Native Americans, is it now? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Are they coming? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
We don't want a ruckus, minister. |
|
|
|
REVEREND RALEIGH |
|
Nor do I. I intended no disrespect. I'd heard the Native Americans were |
|
figures of the greatest prominence here. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Indeed they are, just for the moment. Let them come. Happy to have them. |
|
Everyone's welcome in a house of God, isn't that right, Reverend? |
|
|
|
REVEREND RALEIGH |
|
As all are welcome in heaven. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
Ild like to go to heaven. Ild like to go to heaven and bite off Gabriells |
|
ear. |
|
|
|
REVEREND RALEIGH |
|
You're still welcome, even with such peculiar appetites. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
But if the Natives do come, Father... |
|
|
|
REVEREND RALEIGH |
|
I'm not a priest, son ... |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
... there's no accounting for what may follow. |
|
|
|
REVEREND RALEIGH |
|
I'm sure God's hand will guide us in that. Just as He guided you here at |
|
the right perfect time, with a right perfect regent. The young lady with |
|
the sunset hair. Miss ... |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Everdeane. Jenny Everdeane. |
|
|
|
REVEREND RALEIGH |
|
Miss Everdeane. Step forward, please. |
|
|
|
Radiant and curious, Jenny joins the Reverend Raleigh in the center of the |
|
room. |
|
|
|
REVEREND RALEIGH |
|
And the evening's regent chooses her evening's partner. |
|
|
|
There is much MUTTERING about this from everyone. Someone makes a wet, |
|
farting SOUND. |
|
|
|
REVERAND RALEIGH |
|
(unfazed) |
|
Here we make only joyful noises to the Lord. |
|
|
|
Under the instruction of the bustling Reverend and his HELPERS, the Women |
|
skeptically stand away from the Men, who allow themselves to be arranged |
|
into a LINE. The Reverend Raleigh escorts the delighted Jenny to a chair |
|
that has been placed, by itself, in the center of the room. Jenny sits |
|
down, facing away from the rest of the guests. She holds a MIRROR in her |
|
hand. |
|
|
|
REVEREND RALEIGH |
|
Now. The men, please. One by one. |
|
|
|
The first volunteer Reverend Raleigh brings forward is a reluctant Sheeny |
|
Mike. There are RUDE COMMENTS as he leads Mike slowly to the center of the |
|
room, coming up behind Jenny until she can see Mikels face reflected in |
|
the mirror. She SHAKES her head. |
|
|
|
REVEREND RALEIGH |
|
Next Gentleman, please. |
|
|
|
More laughing. The BOYS push out one CANDIDATE. Rejected. |
|
|
|
Now ANOTHER CANDIDATE comes forward. And STILL ANOTHER- Jenny rejects each |
|
with the composure of a princess. |
|
|
|
Now it is Johnny's turn. He WALKS slowly across the big room, and stands |
|
behind Jenny, trying to look confident. The moment is long, the room's |
|
tense... until--just once but very decisively-Jenny SHAKES her head. |
|
|
|
Jenny watches Johnny's face in the mirror. She stays still. Finally, he |
|
walks back to the GANG. |
|
|
|
Now Amsterdam starts toward the center of the room. He keeps his eyes |
|
fixed on Jenny. |
|
|
|
Jenny catches Amsterdam's reflection in the mirror. He STOPS. She NODS her |
|
head. Yes. Him. |
|
|
|
A small BAND strikes up a barely recognizable version of "A Mighty |
|
Fortress Is Our God," arranged in waltz time. Jenny rises and holds out |
|
her arms to Amsterdam. They start to DANCE, a little clumsily, as other |
|
COUPLES join them. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
So you accept? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
What? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You accept to be my mort and no one else's. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(teasing) |
|
No, it's just that I didn't recognize you in the mirror. You still got |
|
some of the face the Butcher gave you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(going along with the joke) |
|
It's not the Butcher, it's the dancing. It shifts my face all around. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Maybe you'll look better later. |
|
|
|
The Reverend Raleigh and his Helpers DASH among the dancers, distributing |
|
LIGHTED CANDLES, which the COUPLES take and hold as they move around the |
|
floor. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I will if we're together later. |
|
(she smiles) |
|
And what about after that? After tonight? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I chose you just for tonight. If that's not good enough I'll go with |
|
someone else. |
|
|
|
She takes a candle from the Reverend and holds it so the light FLICKERS on |
|
Amsterdam's face. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I'll have tonight. But after this don't come to me no more till you're |
|
ready. No more. |
|
|
|
His eyes, in the candlelight, show both his love and his Resolution. Jenny |
|
NODS and they DANCE AWAY ... |
|
|
|
... losing themselves now among the dancers, all moving and holding |
|
candles. As they dance, their movement becomes SPLIT, SEQUENTIAL, a study |
|
in motion like an old Gjon Mili photograph. Their bodies create a RUSH OF |
|
YELLOW LIGHT ACROSS the screen like the tail of a comet. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
70 INT- DEAD RABBITS HOUSE NIGHT |
|
|
|
In the hallway. JOHNNY stands pressed against a door. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(whispering) |
|
Amsterdam. |
|
(louder; hissing) |
|
Amsterdam! |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM (V.O.) |
|
Who is it? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Me. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Come on in. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I don't want to come in! You come out. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Just a damn minute. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM comes to the door, half-dressed and sleepy. We see Jenny asleep |
|
on the floor inside. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What do you want? |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
71 EXT. PIER/DEAD RABBITS HOUSE NIGHT |
|
|
|
Just before dawn. The streets are empty, the river is quiet. AMSTERDAM |
|
follows JOHNNY out of the house. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I'm going to fight you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Oh, Jesus, Johnny, I'm tired. How about sometime else? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Now. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You want to tell me what this fight's over? Is it The Butcher? Jenny? |
|
(Johnny turns, determined) |
|
Alright, alright. Then tell me why like this? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
So when I lose no one will see. |
|
|
|
And he SLUGS him. Hard. Harder even than he thought he could. AMSTERDAM |
|
stumbles, stunned, then pulls himself up. And CHARGES at Johnny, knocking |
|
him down. |
|
|
|
The two friends PUNCH, WRESTLE, BITE and PUMMEL EACH OTHER with such |
|
extravagant energy that they soon... |
|
|
|
... ROLL OFF the pier... |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
72 EXT. PIER DAWN |
|
|
|
... onto the muddy ground underneath the pier. They LAND with a shuddering |
|
SPLASH in the soggy earth, but they keep fighting .... |
|
|
|
... as a PACK OF ORPHANS, eyes glinting like night animals, scatter like |
|
wild beasts disturbed in their burrow. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam has the physical advantage, and more skill. But Johnny has the |
|
fury. All the feeling and the frustration rain out of him physically, |
|
making the match nearly even. |
|
|
|
The Orphan Pack watches the fight silently, showing no favoritism or |
|
emotion, just an edge of curiosity. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam HITS Johnny a wicked combination that makes him SINK to one knee |
|
in the mud. But Johnny will not go down. Amsterdam, hurt himself, just |
|
stares at Johnny in wonderment. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Satisfied? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Satisfied? It wasn't me that's been dancing and shagging all night. |
|
|
|
And he pulls himself to his feet and THROWS a roundhouse at Amsterdam, who |
|
half-staggers out of the way. The moment throws Johnny off balance, and he |
|
falls in the mud again, this time on all fours. Amsterdam SINKS down |
|
beside him. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Enough. |
|
|
|
Johnny won't stop: he throws a punch that Amsterdam can see coming a block |
|
away. But he's too tired too duck; or maybe he's just fed up. He takes the |
|
punch and FALLS on his back. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
That's it then. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
The hell. |
|
|
|
And he THROWS HIMSELF on Amsterdam. It's more like he rolls over onto him |
|
than anything, but he's on top of him now, hitting him in the face with |
|
all he's got left in him. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Goddamn it. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam HEAVES Johnny off and pops him a solid SWIPE to the jaw. That |
|
does it. Lights out. Johnny falls unconscious into the slime beneath the |
|
pier. |
|
|
|
The Orphan Pack keeps staring from the shadow with their ferret eyes. |
|
Still silent. Amsterdam STRUGGLES to his feet, stops at the river's edge |
|
to get a handful of water to revive himself. Then he looks over, sees his |
|
unconscious friend. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Goddamn you anyway. |
|
|
|
He grabs Johnny's body by the shoulders and pulls him to the river's edge. |
|
He gets some water on his hand, lets it drip over Johnny's face, washing |
|
away a little of the blood. Not enough. He draws some more water, and RUBS |
|
it gently onto Johnny's face. |
|
|
|
CLOSE: on the motion of his hand. It is nearly gentle. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
73 INT. DON WHISKERANDOS BARBER SHOP DAY |
|
|
|
As Don Whiskerandos' hand, holding a razor, travels over the great plains |
|
of Monk Eastman's face. His hand is shaking. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
What's the trouble, Don? |
|
|
|
DON WHISKERANDOS |
|
There's someone here. |
|
|
|
Monk bestirs himself in the chair, SEES: Bill the Butcher, standing in the |
|
doorway. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
It's just a man of commerce. |
|
|
|
Monk settles back in the chair as Bill the Butcher walks into the shop. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You're right enough this time, Monk. |
|
(to Don Whiskerandos) |
|
Go ahead. |
|
(the barber hesitates) |
|
Go on with your work. I'll finish my business. |
|
|
|
Don Whiskerandos picks up a pair of SCISSORS and NERVOUSLY starts to TRIM |
|
Monk's hair. |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
Come out with it then. |
|
|
|
Bill NODS emphatically at Don Whiskerandos, who is clearly terrified. Bill |
|
nods again, almost vehemently. Don Whiskerandos SHAKES his head. Bill |
|
GLARES at him. The Barber takes a STEP BACK. Monk opens his eyes, starts |
|
to size up the situation. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You damn craven, do it! |
|
|
|
Bill LEAPS forward, grabs the trembling barber's arm and pushes it toward |
|
MONK... |
|
|
|
MONK EASTMAN |
|
(rising from his chair) |
|
What the hell... |
|
|
|
...and the scissors, held by Don Whiskerandos and pushed by Bill the |
|
Butcher, meet Monk full in the face as he bolts from the chair. The long |
|
scissor BLADE SINKS into Monkls right eye. |
|
|
|
MONK BELLOWS, staggers toward Don Whiskerandos, who shrinks against the |
|
wall. The scissor protrudes from Monk's eye as he RAGES, blinded by blood, |
|
now reaching out for the Butcher |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Your eyes was open for that alright. And you still got one to see this. |
|
|
|
Bill the Butcher reaches above him for Monk's war club, which hangs on the |
|
wall. He grabs tight hold of it and, with Monk nearly upon him, swings it |
|
viciously at Monk's head. The BLOW sends the scissor FLYING out of Monk's |
|
eye, with the eyeball still attached. It also SMASHES in the side of |
|
Monk's face. He FALLS, still GRABBING desperately for the Butcher... |
|
|
|
... who now stands over him, beating him incessantly with the war club. |
|
CAVING his head in. KILLING him. |
|
|
|
Don Whiskerandos looks at Bill in a virtual paralysis of terror. The |
|
Butcher lets the CLUB FALL, reaches in his pocket and throws some MONEY at |
|
the barber. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
If I was you I'd use that to open in a new location. Consider St. Louis. |
|
|
|
The enormity of what he's done is beginning to sink in. He turns to leave |
|
the shop ... but STOPS in the doorway. |
|
|
|
Outside, CITIZENS of the Points are staring at the fallen Monk in mute |
|
wonder. They have just witnessed a moment in history. |
|
|
|
Bill the Butcher surveys them all silently, then calls out to Don |
|
Whiskerandos. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
The war club. |
|
|
|
The barber steels himself to CARRY the bloody club to the Butcher, who |
|
hefts it slowly in his hands, in view of all. |
|
|
|
He takes a knife from his vest, and CUTS the LAST NOTCH in the club. Then, |
|
slowly... |
|
|
|
... he steps down into the crowd, which PARTS before him. He |
|
|
|
walks among them in regal splendor, the war club at his side, dripping |
|
gore. |
|
|
|
As the crowd falls back, Bill spots Amsterdam, Johnny and some of the |
|
other Dead Rabbits, watching his every mave. He STOPS. |
|
|
|
|
|
HOLDS OUT the bloody war club in front of him... straight in front of |
|
him... POINTING IT right at Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I promise you, Amsterdam. I promise you. |
|
|
|
Then he grins, turns away and walks through the crowd: prince of all he |
|
surveys. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
74 INT. RESTAURANT/PARK ROW |
|
|
|
Boss Tweed reigns in the banquet room of a vast, gaslit restaurant, at a |
|
long table overburdened with food. Seated along both sides of the table is |
|
an array of the city's POWER BROKERS, with whom Tweed and his Tammany |
|
MINIONS mix easily. Their attitude toward the Power Brokers is a mixture |
|
of ribald fawning and fine condescension; the Power Brokers, in turn, |
|
enjoy the food, and the MUSIC from a small BAND, and the DANCING GIRLS who |
|
flirt and entertain them, while exuding the unmistakable impression of |
|
amateur anthropologists exploring a decaying civilization. |
|
|
|
Tweed is courting and joking with a bewhiskered HORACE GREELEY, editor of |
|
the influential Tribune. |
|
|
|
GREELEY |
|
I may enjoy the bounty of your table and the pleasures of your company, |
|
Mr. Tweed ... |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
And the pleasures of the company provided you, Mr. Greeley. |
|
|
|
GREELEY |
|
...without the Tribune endorsing your politics. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I suppose you can at that. Take with one hand, flay with the other. |
|
Virtuels on your conscience, Horace, but Tammany's in your heart. |
|
|
|
Killoran materializes at Tweed's side and whispers something quickly, |
|
discreetly in his ear. Tweed EXCUSES himself, rises quickly and WALKS |
|
across the restaurant floor... |
|
|
|
... past the Band and the Dancing Giris ... |
|
|
|
... to the swinging doors of the kitchen. As he pushes open the SWINGING |
|
DOOR, his face has lost its humor. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
75 INT. KITCHEN/RESTAURANT/PARK ROW |
|
|
|
A madhouse of activity. WAITERS in black suits, vests and serving outfits |
|
STREAM by carrying huge TRAYS of food while the KITCHEN STAFF works |
|
double-time to keep up with the unceasing volume. |
|
|
|
As Boss Tweed walks in, Bill the Butcher PLUCKS a piece of roasted poultry |
|
off a tray as it's carried out the door. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I'm not good enough for your table, so I eat where I can. (takes a big |
|
bite) |
|
It's good, what is it? |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Pheasant. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Is that like pigeon? I killed a pigeon once but it didn't taste nothing |
|
like this. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
You killed a bull this morning. I told you to make an Arrangement with |
|
him, and you come back with his blood on your hands. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
(chewing his food) |
|
He insulted me. He aggravated me. I couldn't stand for that, for no one. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
You stand for anything if I tell you. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You think I should be afraid of you. You act like lightning strikes when |
|
you talk. |
|
|
|
As they talk, and the tension builds between them, the two men are |
|
constantly BUFFETED by the swinging doors and the unending stream of |
|
WAITERS. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I never was afraid of you, so don't think I was or act like I was, you |
|
ain't earned it. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
What did you earn us, killing Monk? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Where'd you earn the right to ask that question? You raised some dust in |
|
the streets a while back, but no more. You got power but you ain't got |
|
muscle and you ain't got a notion what it means to be a warrior. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I see it lost you a lot of God's sense, along with that eye. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You don't know nothing about that! It was my doing! It says in The Book, |
|
"If thy eye offend thee, pluck it out." I followed that law with my own |
|
knife and hand. The first I ever fought Priest Vallon, he bested me. And |
|
when he came to bring me to death, I looked away and he watched me and he |
|
let me go. The shame was worse than the killing. I would have cut out both |
|
eyes if I could still have fought, but cutting just the one gave me heart. |
|
When I killed Priest Vallon, that restored me. Now I sent Monk Eastman |
|
over I got glory. I got all there is, and small thanks to you, squire. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(measured, conciliatory) You need two eyes to see the depth, Bill. That's |
|
how we help each other. If it wasn't for me would be happy enough to |
|
plunder the Points and put the fear into people who don't know nothing |
|
else. But Bill, I'm only saying... I'm counselinm... look in the distance. |
|
You want to sit at my table, fine. But you must always remember who the |
|
host is. It's not a matter of courage welre talking. It's manners. |
|
|
|
Bill grabs another piece of food from a tray. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Howls these manners? |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Fine, if you're hungry. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I'm always hungry. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I've always told you, Bill. There's plenty for all, and more for us |
|
together than separate. We'll dine together sometime. |
|
|
|
Bill the Butcher nods, appeased, and leaves, swaggering his way through |
|
the kitchen chaos, making everyone get out of his way. Boss Tweed watches |
|
him go, his expression changing from bemused appeasement to molten rage. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
76 INT. RESTAURANT/PARK ROW |
|
|
|
Later. Everyone's gone except some WAITERS, cleaning up, and Boss Tweed |
|
and Daniel Killoran, who sit at the end of the banquet table. Leftover |
|
plates of food have been massed at Tweedls place and, as he talks, he |
|
PICKS from them. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Let me put this to you, Daniel. Now that the Butcher has killed the single |
|
most prominent figure in the Five Points--a man of myth and moment--who is |
|
there to take his place? |
|
(as Killoran starts to answer) |
|
Of course. Then what do we do about the Butcher? He's too useful to be |
|
killed, but he must be checked. |
|
|
|
KILLARAN |
|
It could be a police matter. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Impossible! Any cops who might have the mettle to go against the Butcher |
|
have blood ties to the gangs. They can't be trusted. And any cops that can |
|
be trusted are too craven to be any use. If Bill's to be checked, it must |
|
come from within the Points, not without. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
The Dead Rabbits did a proud job for elections. That Amsterdam boy has |
|
sand. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
That so? The last time I saw him he was under the Butcher's knife looking |
|
like a fine filet. Who else is there? |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
Well, the Rough and Tumble Boys over to Slaughterhouse Point. There's |
|
Country McCleesterls bunch, too, and the Plug Uglies, but there's none |
|
that have the promise of the Dead Rabbits, or the stake, neither. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
What would that be? |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
The boy Amsterdam has a blood feud with the Butcher. He's sworn revenge |
|
for the death of his father, and he's got the heart to carry it forward. |
|
He'll have the skill and power soon enough. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Blood will make a man intrepid. Bring them along, then. Nurture the |
|
Rabbits with neglect. Let them roam where they like. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
And if they roam into some portion of our own revenues? |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I'd tolerate a little trespassing if it was for a higher good and use. |
|
They'll cross with the Natives soon enough and keep each other occupied. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
Bill's got to be a lot more than occupied. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I'll hold Bill in check. If he becomes unwieldy ... well, damn it all, |
|
Daniel, I might just have to oil up my old musket. What do you think of |
|
that, eh? |
|
|
|
Boss Tweed gets up from the table. A WAITER is DIMMING the gaslights, |
|
filling the room with deep shadows. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
It'd be gratifying, Mr. Tweed. Even edifying. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
But poor politics, eh? Well, we musn't have that. |
|
(as he walks away) |
|
I do miss those roistering days, though. Oh, and bring some of that food |
|
for the canaries. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
77 EXT. STREET/THE BLOODY ANGLE DAY |
|
|
|
The sharply-angled turn of Doyers Street, nicknamed "The Bloody Angle." |
|
SOUND of a horse and cart as we see a row of UPTURNED mostly WOMEN and |
|
YOUNG CHILDREN. |
|
|
|
A NATIVE AMERICAN drives a cart carrying large barrels of MILK. A SECOND |
|
NATIVE rides beside him on the seat, holding a rifle, looking impassively |
|
at the faces turned up to him. A WOMAN holding a BABY in one arm and a |
|
CHILD by the hand steps in front of them. They almost run her down. |
|
|
|
WOMAN |
|
We ain't had no milk this week. |
|
|
|
NATIVE 2 |
|
You can have as much as you can pay for. |
|
(to crowd) |
|
Anyone that's got the ned, step up with your pitchers. Any not, come back |
|
when you do. |
|
|
|
The Woman gives her children to other WOMEN in the crowd and advances |
|
toward the wagon. Native 2 cocks his rifle... |
|
|
|
... and Jenny steps from the watchful Crowd. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I got ned enough for all. See? Fair enough? |
|
|
|
She holds her hand out as she WALKS slowly toward the milk wagon. She's |
|
carrying a huge fistful of GLEAMING COINS. The Natives on the wagon watch |
|
her warily... |
|
|
|
... and are JUMPED from behind by a couple of Dead Rabbits. Amsterdam |
|
grabs a milk pitcher from a WOMAN in the crowd, AXES open the spigot on a |
|
milk barrel and FILLS the pitcher to overflowing. Jenny JUMPS up on the |
|
wagon seat. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(to Amsterdam) |
|
What's our rate? What do we charge? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Johnny worked it out to a nickel less than the Natives. Just till we're |
|
established. Then we raise it a penny more than now. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Raise it? Is that what you want? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You say, then. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(beat; then, to Crowd) There'll be no paying at all this day. Or this |
|
week, neither. This is Dead Rabbits business from now on. |
|
|
|
The Crowd scrambles for milk and the Rabbits try to keep ORDER. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(to Crowd) |
|
We'll take ned if you got it, now or in future. But no one will go without. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(to Jenny) |
|
Except us. You opening a charity? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
They'll pay us what they owe, in loyalty if not in cash. Tammany gives |
|
coal, we give milk. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
They can afford it. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Can't we? |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
78 INT. MOTHER JOYCE'S BORDELLO DAY |
|
|
|
The midday sun shining through the windows makes the place look tatty and |
|
slightly desperate: this is a place that needs low light and long shadows |
|
to look good. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam and Johnny are at a long bar, talking to Mother Joyce, a beefy, |
|
wised-up woman with pornographic tattoos an both forearms. |
|
|
|
MOTHER JOYCE |
|
This place is so clean it's the next thing to chaste. And safe as a |
|
convent, too. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
From the Natives, maybe. But not from us. |
|
|
|
MOTHER JOYCE |
|
You're saying I got to worry about your mob too? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
No worries at all. You throw in with the Dead Rabbits and we'll worry |
|
about the Natives. |
|
|
|
Across the room, Jenny is sitting talking to a few of the WHORES, one of |
|
whom is a mixed-blood Eurasian with long black hair named Emma Loss. She |
|
gets up lazily and heads for the bar. As she passes a DRUNK, he reaches |
|
out to grab her. She's used to this, and she knocks his hand away. He |
|
keeps after her. |
|
|
|
At the bar, Mother Joyce notices Emma being hassled, but pays no |
|
attention: her girls can take care of themselves. |
|
|
|
MOTHER JOYCE |
|
(to Amsterdam and Johnny) |
|
And if someone else comes along, do I pay them too? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You only pay us. We see you safe from everyone. |
|
|
|
Johnny has been watching the drunk bothering Emma Loss. Without saying |
|
anything to Amsterdam or Mother Joyce, Johnny LEAVES the bar, walks over |
|
to the drunk and SHOVES him away. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Leave off her. She don't want you. Not even if you could pay her. |
|
|
|
EMMA LOSS |
|
Hey, just a minute. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(to Emma) |
|
He can't pay. I can pay. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(watching this) |
|
Maybe I should offer Johnny as a bouncer for your busy nights. |
|
|
|
MOTHER JOYCE |
|
(laughs) |
|
A bouncer! I don't know if he could bounce on a feather bed. He wants to |
|
be a character like you, is that it? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
He's got his own ideas. Too full of Tammany, maybe, but he's a fast friend. |
|
|
|
Across the room, Johnny is talking to Emma Loss. She NODS and starts to |
|
LEAD him upstairs. |
|
|
|
MOTHER JOYCE |
|
But in my trade you go on your instincts. My instincts says to heed you, |
|
and my memory of your father says I'm right. We'll shake on it. |
|
(Amsterdam grabs her hand) |
|
And have one of my best to seal the bargain. Megs! |
|
|
|
A lanky blonde, seated across the room near Jenny, bestirs herself. |
|
|
|
MOTHER JOYCE |
|
Come here and show my new friend why we're worth special care. |
|
|
|
Jenny watches MEGS move toward Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
79 INT. ASSIGNATION ROOM/MOTHER JOYCE'S |
|
|
|
Big enough to contain a half-gutted mattress supported by a rickety bed, |
|
some worn sheets and a few GUTTERING CANDLES. |
|
|
|
Johnny undresses as Emma sits on the bed and starts to take off her dress. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
You liked that old man? You would have gone with him? |
|
|
|
EMMA LOSS |
|
I like anyone that pays, that's all. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Tell me what he wanted you to do. |
|
|
|
EMMA LOSS |
|
He mostly wanted comforting. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I never seen hair so black. Can you take the pins out? |
|
|
|
EMMA LOSS |
|
It takes so long to do back up. |
|
|
|
He sits beside her and starts slowly, almost tenderly, to remove the pins. |
|
|
|
79 CONTINUED: |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Did your mother have the same color? |
|
|
|
I don't know. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(as the hair cascades over her bare shoulders) |
|
Lie back, I want to look at you. |
|
(his eyes glide along her body) |
|
What's that mark? |
|
|
|
EMMA LOSS |
|
I always had it. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(touching her lightly) |
|
And there? Is that a scar? |
|
|
|
EMMA LOSS |
|
(she looks at her naked belly) |
|
There was a baby. They cut it out. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
And that on your shoulder? That looks old. |
|
|
|
EMMA LOSS |
|
Yeah, I got that when I ... |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(interrupting, quiet) |
|
I don't want to know when. Don't tell me about before or what you used to |
|
be, I don't want that. |
|
|
|
EMMA LOSS |
|
What about your scars. Do you have scars? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
None I ever seen. Maybe you can find them. |
|
|
|
Her hands and mouth cover his body. He closes his eyes. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
80 INT. ASSIGNATION ROOM/MOTHER JOYCEIS |
|
|
|
Another room. Amsterdam and Megs are undressing each other when Jenny |
|
walks in. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Go on. I can see you later. |
|
Megs leaves, brushing past Jenny. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
What are you doing? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I couldn't decline what Mother Joyce offered. It's in the interests of |
|
business. You understand business. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Sure I do. But there's something else I still don't understand. At |
|
Sparrow's Pagoda, did you hit me, knowing it was me? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Yeah. I did. |
|
|
|
She HITS him. In the face. Hard. Not a slap. A solid PUNCH. His nose |
|
starts to gush blood. He puts his arm under it to staunch the flow, |
|
keeping his eyes an her. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Meantime's over. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Oh fine. That's fine. I'd be celebrating but I'm losing too much blood. |
|
|
|
Jenny tears part of the sleeve from her blouse and puts it against his |
|
nose. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Put your head back. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
That don't work. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Put your head back I said. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(as she tends to him) |
|
So why so sudden, then? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Sudden? Every day I see you and you complain I can't decide. Now I decide, |
|
you say it's sudden. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
It's the whore did it, then. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Don't flatter yourself. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
It's because you're jealous. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
It's because you didn't lie about hitting me. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Christ, I wish I had. Come here, then. |
|
|
|
He reaches to pull her down on the bed. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Not here. There's too much past. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
81 INT. ROOM/DEAD RABBIT HOUSE |
|
|
|
The room where Johnny fetched Amsterdam out for the fight. Amsterdam and |
|
Jenny have just made love. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
It must be morning. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I don't care, I'm not getting up. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
This is what you meant, then? It's going to be just the same from now on? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Every morning I wake up next to you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Or you don't wake up at all. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
We only just started in and you're already threatening me. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
It's not a threat. |
|
(no teasing now) |
|
It's a declaration of love. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I prefer my kind. This kind. |
|
|
|
She reaches beneath the pillow and pulls out a fine DIAMOND RING, which |
|
she slips on his finger. Amsterdam reacts with surprise, gratitude and (of |
|
course) suspicion. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What's this? Where'd you get this? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You said I was the best thief in the Five Points. But I got |
|
restless. Will you wear something I got? |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
82 EXT- UPTOWN STREET DAY |
|
|
|
A long street of tree-shaded houses. Spacious lawns. North of the Five |
|
Points. Considerably north. This is the first time we have been outside |
|
the Five Points and Paradise Square. The city |
|
rent place. |
|
|
|
Jenny and Amsterdam stand near a residence at the end of the street. |
|
Amsterdam, dressed in a suit, can't quite conceal his wonder as he stands |
|
staring at the house. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What is this place? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
My jeweler's. |
|
|
|
She GESTURES for him to follow her and we see now that she is dressed in a |
|
maid's outfit. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Come on. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I don't see nobody. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
That's the best time. They're all having lunch. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
83 EXT. UPTOWN HOUSE DAY |
|
|
|
At the back door of the grand house, as Jenny OPENS it slowly and glances |
|
inside. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You're off your head. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(pleased, showing off) |
|
You can wait on me a minute. Or I'll see you back in the Points if you're |
|
scared. |
|
(Amsterdam looks at her) |
|
Don't worry. I know every house on this street. They all leave their doors |
|
open. They live like they're not in New York. |
|
|
|
She GOES IN the house. Amsterdam WATCHES through the window, sees her |
|
going up stairs. Then he looks at the dining room, visible distantly |
|
through an open kitchen door. |
|
|
|
He WATCHES, fascinated, fragments of the everyday rituals of a world he's |
|
never seen. As SOUNDS drift listlessly from the street beyond, and a light |
|
BREEZE blows, WE SEE IN A SERIES OF DISSOLVES the serving of a meal; |
|
SERVANTS carrying and passing plates; FAMILY MEMBERS reaching for dishes |
|
and passing them; the LOW KURMUR of Konversation in accents he has never |
|
heard. It's not so much that these people and their life are foreign to |
|
him. It is as if he has stepped into another Dimension. |
|
|
|
He loses his sense of time, and of danger. So that when Jenny TOUCHES his |
|
arm she surprises him thoroughly. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Come on. I might still be taken for a maid. But you're nobody's notion of |
|
a butler. |
|
|
|
84 EXT. UPTOWN STREET DAY |
|
|
|
As Jenny and Amsterdam walk away from the house. She holds his arm. They |
|
look young and full of hope, like a servant couple just over from the old |
|
country enjoying a day off. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
The Police Commissioner lives the next street over. I was thinking of |
|
visiting him next month, but cops don't buy goods. They keep all their |
|
graft in cash. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam looks at the houses with wonder that he tries to make casual. |
|
She opens her satchel a little way, then NUDGES him to have a lock at the |
|
swag inside. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
How's that for ten minutes? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
It's a lot to fence. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I'm not going to fence it. I'm going to keep it and take it where no one |
|
will recognize it. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Where would that be? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Somewhere west. Far west. Past the Mississippi River, somewhere into that |
|
territory. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
That's a hard journey for a woman alone. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You'd be with me. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You got it all planned and straight, is that it? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Once I said I'd be with you I wanted someplace we could be together. |
|
Someplace better than here. What's the matter with that? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Nothing. Except there's no place but here for me right now. I got to |
|
settle things. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Yeah, I know, but I'm talking about settling down, not settling debts. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You don't have my obligations. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
85 EXT. PARADISE SQUARE DAY |
|
|
|
The Dead Rabbits SWEEP across the bustling square, Johnny and Amsterdam in |
|
the lead. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
It's a fair day's wage. We just move the people out of the building, and |
|
collect. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Who from? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Who owns the building. |
|
(points) |
|
Them. |
|
|
|
The gang approaches a tumbledown BUILDING called Jacob's Ladder because of |
|
the iron rungs that run straight up its front to the roof. Two |
|
well-dressed GENTS stare at the building fretfully. |
|
|
|
GENT 1 |
|
(to Johnny) |
|
I'm glad you came in force. There's half a hundred people still in there. |
|
|
|
GENT 2 |
|
Maybe more. |
|
|
|
GENT 1 |
|
And not one's given rent the whole year. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You live here? |
|
|
|
GENT 1 |
|
No, no, of course not. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I mean in the city. A ways north, I'll bet. |
|
|
|
GENT 2 |
|
Yes. Why? |
|
|
|
A RIFLE SHOT sounds from an upper window and a Rabbit falls wounded. They |
|
all DUCK FOR COVER. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
It's not just citizens in there? |
|
|
|
GENT 1 |
|
Of course it is. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
with arms? |
|
|
|
GENT 2 |
|
From their damned gang. Some of them live there. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Some of who? |
|
|
|
GENT 2 |
|
The Native Americans. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
We didn't contract for that. |
|
|
|
GENT 1 |
|
We'll pay extra for the danger. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
No danger. But you will pay extra. |
|
(turns; to gang) |
|
Let's go and greet some Natives. |
|
|
|
Under SCATTERED RIFLE FIRE and a barrage of ROCKS, the GANG STORMS the |
|
building, charging inside and starting up the ladder as if they were |
|
attacking a medieval fortress. ARMS reach out from windows to try and pull |
|
them off. The Rabbits respond with knives and PISTOL SHOTS. As they charge |
|
inside, the CAMERA RISES to an OVERHEAD shot and we ... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
86 EXT. PARADISE SQUARE DAY |
|
|
|
Later. The same OVERHEAD ANGLE. BODIES litter the street everywhere. Some |
|
dead and wounded Rabbits lie near NATIVES who have gone to their reward. |
|
Some BUILDING RESIDENTS wander the street in a daze. JOHNNY is collecting |
|
money from the Two Gents, who look very pleased as Amsterdam approaches |
|
with Jenny. He's carrying a rifle he took from the building. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(to Gents) |
|
Alright, then? |
|
|
|
GENT 2 |
|
Very much alright. Quite a spectacle. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Oh really? Just the entertainment you favor, is it? Pardon me for a |
|
moment, gents. |
|
(he turns to Jenny) |
|
You wanted to settle, you and me. That's so, isn't it? You did agree, did |
|
you not. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I did, yes. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Good, because I didn't want to act hasty. I can never tell for sure what |
|
you're thinking, and sometimes I'm not always sure what you're saying... |
|
|
|
GENT 2 |
|
(interrupting) |
|
Excuse me, we have to finish and... |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(to Gent 2) |
|
Excuse me. We'll conclude in a moment. |
|
(back to Jenny) |
|
Where do you settle? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Amsterdam, what are you saying? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I'm asking, where does anyone settle? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I don't know, you mean a place, a home? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
A home yes. |
|
|
|
GENT 1 |
|
Excuse me, but we really must conclude. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(ignoring him) |
|
Well, I'm saying to you then, Jenny Everdeane, welcome home. |
|
|
|
No one sees it coming. Amsterdam FLASHES around, swinging the BUTT of his |
|
rifle into Gent l's midsection, doubling him over and sending him |
|
breathless to the ground. Amsterdam SPINS again and swings the butt into |
|
Gent 2's face, knocking him cold. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Fine place. Room enough for all. |
|
(to Johnny) |
|
Get them out of here. |
|
|
|
GENT 2 |
|
They'll come back looking for you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
With whose help? The Natives? They won't help these flourishing bastards |
|
even for ned. |
|
(to Jenny) |
|
Tell any who wants they can stay. If they can't pay rent they can join the |
|
gang. But make sure the best rooms go to us. Look around ... |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(interrupting) |
|
I know this building. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
87 INT. UNDERGROUND/JACOB'S LADDER |
|
|
|
As Jenny leads Amsterdam through a narrow tunnel. The place is like a |
|
weird catacomb: it is narrow and dank, filled with bones of dead animals, |
|
of the two- and four-legged variety. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
These lead all under the Square, into the Brewery and out again from |
|
there. They're closed off and forgotten since the Reverend opened the |
|
mission. Pass me the candle. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam hands Jenny a stump of candle, which she holds high enough to |
|
see... |
|
|
|
... that the tunnel has opened onto a small room just above the foundation |
|
of Jacob's Ladder. It's a graveyard, memorializing gang members gone to a |
|
better world--or worse. Trophies from many gangs--including the bones and |
|
skulls of some Dead Rabbits-litter the place in loose ritual fashion, as |
|
if this were a catacomb in Palermo. |
|
|
|
Stooping low, Jenny walks to a narrow corner of the room, where several |
|
PAVING STONES have been laid in the rough pattern of a cross. A slab of |
|
slate serves as a headstone, and on it, in fading paint, barely legible, |
|
is the name "Maggie Everdeane." |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
We lived in this building till she lost her seamstress work and we went to |
|
the Brewery. One day she slept so drunk she never woke and I brought her |
|
back here. Dug this myself. |
|
(beat) |
|
Families. Give here what I gave you. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam hands her a chest that looks like a small version of |
|
Blackbeard's treasure box. She opens it and holds the candle close: inside |
|
is the swag from all her cat burglaries. There's a lot of it, GLITTERING |
|
with promise in the GUTTERING flame. Jenny starts to dig in her mother's |
|
grave. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
She'll keep an eye on this for us. How about some help? |
|
|
|
He KNEELS beside her and they dig at the grave with stones and bones. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You trusting me with your treasure, then? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Just take another look at it to remind you. I can always do fine on my own. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam reaches inside the chest, pulls out a ring and SLIPS it onto |
|
Jenny's dirt-covered finger. She KISSES him. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
What's mine is yours, is that it? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I could use this, too. |
|
|
|
From the bag he holds up a small GOLD CROSS. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You making an offering to the Reverend Raleigh? |
|
|
|
Amsterdam slips the cross into his pocket without answering and starts to |
|
dig again. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Are you sure we can trust your mother? |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
88 INT. HALLWAY/TAMMANY |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED listens to an angry BILL THE BUTCHER as they walk briskly down |
|
a long marble corridor lined with formal portraits of former Tammany |
|
worthies. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
The building and how many? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
A dozen at least of my Natives. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
The Dead Rabbits are a wooly bunch alright. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I want at them. All of them, and Amsterdam especial. Now. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Not just now. It's between too late and too soon. They've become a little |
|
too prominent for comfort, but they're still too small for you to soil |
|
your hands. The man who killed Monk Eastman pushing around a mob of |
|
upstarts. It's practically undignified. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
To hell with any of that. |
|
|
|
Tweed stops under a grand new PORTRAIT of himself. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Very well, and to hell as well with any plans you and I may have for |
|
growth and change and even greater reward. You'll never advance anywhere |
|
beyond the limited perimeter of your imagination. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I don't got to advance anywhere further. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Got to, no. But ought to. |
|
|
|
He hands him a fancy embossed envelope. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
What's this? |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(eyes merry) |
|
An invitation. To dinner. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
89 INT. JENNY AND AMSTERDAM'S ROOM/JACOB'S LADDER DAY |
|
|
|
Better by a little than their place in the old hideout. There's even a |
|
window that throws some LIGHT an the few bits of castoff furniture in the |
|
room... an the bed where Jenny sleeps with her face turned to the dawn |
|
light... and an Amsterdam, who is dressing quietly in the corner. He |
|
checks in his coat Pocket,...finds the gold cross ... and leaves. Jenny |
|
does nat stir. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
90 EXT. GRAVEYARD DAY |
|
|
|
START CLOSE on: Amsterdam's hand, as he places the gold cross in a small |
|
hole at a grave site, then covers it over with dirt. |
|
|
|
Then WE SEE: Amsterdam is kneeling at his father's grave. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
He never had his own cross. Thanks. |
|
|
|
Now he STANDS and TURNS. Jenny is half-hidden behind an elm tree. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Your touch is light, but as a tracker you work awful heavy. Come ahead. |
|
Now that I met your mother, you should come and meet my father. |
|
|
|
As Jenny starts to WALK towards the grave, we see for the first time ... |
|
|
|
... that we are in the country, a graveyard in an open field with an |
|
astonishing PANORAMA of New York and the East River. (MATTE) The cemetery |
|
is atop a hill, and the East River, busy with ferries and vessels of |
|
trade, glistens in the near distance. Just beyond it is Manhattan Island: |
|
low buildings, winding narrow streets, houses surrounded by open land. A |
|
BREEZE off the river rustles Jenny's dress and blows her hair as she steps |
|
up to the grave site, looks at the headstone and sees ... |
|
|
|
... it is blank. No name, no date. Clean stane. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You should finish the stone. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
It'll be finished when everything's finished. That's when helll rest. The |
|
hand that killed him is the hand that will bury him in peace. |
|
|
|
He holds up his open hand, covered in dirt. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
It was Bill killed him, not you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
With my hand on the knife. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
And his hand on yours! |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
And me feeling the life go out of my father! He looked at me ... he looked |
|
at me and he swore me with his eyes. I could feel his spirit... I say I |
|
could feel it rising... flowing through the knife like blood into my own |
|
heart. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You talk like he lives in you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I don't want him to live, I want him dead! I kill Bill and I'm free of |
|
them both! |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You think you can be free that easy? You need your way so clear, and |
|
you''' use anything to clear it. Anyone, too. Me, everybody, we're all |
|
just a way for you to settle your damned ghosts. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You're part of me now, like the gang is part of me and my father both. If |
|
I can bring us to glory, then my father... like The Book says...my father |
|
can enter his house justified. |
|
|
|
As Amsterdam continues to talk we ... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
91 MONTAGE |
|
|
|
The growth of the Dead Rabbits, as we continue to HEAR Amsterdam speak |
|
passionately to Jenny. We first see the Rabbits surrounding and |
|
OVERTURNING a fire wagon; this starts as a live action scene but soon |
|
BLEEDS into SEPIA, then freezes like an old magazine illustration. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM (V.O.) |
|
All of us is set on the same road together. The gang can have everything |
|
they ever wanted and get me what I want while they're doing it. We're not |
|
interfering with each other, we're helping each other. It's all the same, |
|
we're all one together. |
|
|
|
We CONTINUE with sepia illustrations: of Dead Rabbit morts picking pockets |
|
and purses along a crowded Broadway; climbing onto a wagon distributing |
|
newspapers and tossing off the occupants, taking over the route |
|
themselves; swarming all over a merchant ship in the harbor as the captain |
|
doles out protection money to have his cargo unloaded. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM (V.O.) |
|
We'll all have a share of the profit like we'll all have a portion of the |
|
fame. If we come to be notorious, that only means we're strong, and if |
|
we're strong that means we're ready. |
|
|
|
A sepia illustration of a fire wagon rounding a corner, refurbished and |
|
manned by Rabbits, all wearing striking uniforms with short capes called |
|
TAMLAS. (N.B.: they will be seen wearing the tanlas from these uniforms |
|
during all gang activity throuqhout the rest of the film. Only Johnny, |
|
Amsterdam and Jenny do not wear them.) |
|
|
|
The sepia illustration turns to live action as the fire wagon TEARS around |
|
Paradise Square, SCATTERING everyone in its path, the Dead Rabbits |
|
laughing, their tamlas FLYING behind them. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM (V.O.) |
|
And I'll know that time, know it right off when it comes. Just like I knew |
|
you. |
|
|
|
The live action DISSOLVES TO... |
|
|
|
... the last image in the montage: an ILLUSTRATION of Amsterdam, a |
|
half-decade older, turned out in fancy clothes, but with all his |
|
fierceness intact. This is a magazine illustration, and there is a dated |
|
headline over his picture: "Fresh Scourge of the Five Points." The date |
|
reads "June, 1863.11 |
|
|
|
AMSTERDA.M (V.O.) |
|
And just like that, there'll be no way of stopping till it's ended. |
|
|
|
From this illustration, we quickly... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
92 EXT. RIVER DAY |
|
|
|
... Amsterdam, as he is in the picture, but in live action, SPRINGING to |
|
his feet and YELLING at a couple of PRIZEFIGHTERS doing battle in a ring. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Now! Finish him now! |
|
|
|
Far up the sparkling Hudson, a RAFT floats slowly upstream. It's a huge |
|
thing (perhaps half a city block in size) crowded with SPORTSMEN. They |
|
form a LARGE RING around two mammoth PRIZEFIGHTERS who are brawling with |
|
bare knuckles. Amsterdam and Johnny are among the spectators. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Our man will take him in another five. What puts you in such a hurry? |
|
|
|
FIGHTER 1 fetches FIGHTER 2 a powerful roundhouse punch that sends him |
|
CRASHING to the deck. As soon as he hits the floor, a CARD GIRL appears |
|
carrying a sign announcing "Round 37.11 SECONDS drag the stupefied Fighter |
|
2 to his corner, while two BOYS minister to Fighter 1, SUCKING THE BLOOD |
|
off his knuckles. |
|
|
|
A GONG sounds to announce the appearance, in the center of the ring, of |
|
the fight promoter, a florid and fulsome P.T. Barnum . |
|
|
|
BARNUM |
|
I want to extend thanks and admiration not only to our two combatants |
|
today, but to their sponsors, the Dead Rabbits ... |
|
(indicates one side of the ring) |
|
... and the Native Americans. |
|
|
|
He FLINGS an expansive arm toward the opposite side of the ring, where |
|
Bill the Butcher sits with Daniel Killoran and a large group of Natives. |
|
Amsterdam and the Butcher eye each other with all the old animosity: it's |
|
almost ceremonial now, part of the Tradition. |
|
|
|
BARNUM |
|
Their generous support allows me to bring you this splendid exhibition. |
|
With their indulgence I'd like to remind you also of the further wonders |
|
that await you at my new Museum, located on Broadway... |
|
|
|
There are BOOS from the crowd at such untoward commercialism. |
|
|
|
BARNUM |
|
... P.T Barnum's gallery of wonders from worlds natural and unnatural, |
|
from nature and from myth! |
|
(continued boos) |
|
And to encourage you also in the view that new Albany ordinances |
|
forbidding sportive violence on land shouldn't dampen your enthusiasm for |
|
wagering. Bets down, entlegen, and you gents.. |
|
(indicated fighters) |
|
... fists up! |
|
|
|
The Fighters come to center ring, circle each other, then start slugging. |
|
A flurry of punches, and Fighter 2 GOES DOWN again. As he hits the deck, |
|
the round automatically ends and the between-rounds ritual takes place |
|
again. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Dobbs will take him this round. That'll be something. The Natives has |
|
never lost before. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Because there's never been a Dead Rabbit fighting before. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
That'll shame them thorough. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
There'll be worse than shaming. We only got the Natives in range. |
|
|
|
It's time to squeeze the trigger, John. |
|
|
|
The next round begins and the Fighters set to, MAULING each other |
|
furiously. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Don't push the Natives too far, Amsterdam. Otherwise it'll be Tammany |
|
pushing back. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
That don't matter any more. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
It does matter, and it's going to matter even more. Tammany's the heart |
|
and future of this city. If the Rabbits is going to keep growing, we're |
|
going to have to throw in with Tammany some way. |
|
|
|
The action in the ring is FURIOUS. The Crowd cheers. Fighter 1 seems about |
|
to go down, but recovers and starts returning punishment to Fighter 2. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
They got that Conscription Act from Washington keeping them busy, but they |
|
won't leave us alone forever. And the Natives is strong as they ever been! |
|
|
|
In the ring, Fighter 1 drives Fighter 2 to the deck again, and this time |
|
KNOCKS HIM COLD. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(indicates Fighter 1) |
|
You call that strong, John? |
|
|
|
In the ring, a couple of agitated NATIVE AMERICANS are trying to get at |
|
the Rabbit-sponsored winner. RABBITS start to RUSH the ring but Amsterdam |
|
WAVES them back. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(to Johnny) |
|
This is our time now! |
|
|
|
BARNUM |
|
(trying to make official announcement) |
|
The winner... gentlemen, please! ... the winner in the 39th round is the |
|
Dead Rabbits champion, High Water Dobbs ... please, gentlemen! |
|
|
|
The unofficial ring COMBAT continues, knocking Barnum about, as the new |
|
champ throws marauding Natives around like empty flower sacks. Amsterdam |
|
iumps into the fray, PUSHES some Natives away. They start for him but the |
|
champ stands them off while Amsterdam WHISPERS to Barnum. |
|
|
|
BARNUM |
|
Just a moment, please, gentlemen! There's a word for us all. Amsterdam |
|
promises ... |
|
(Amsterdam whispers to him briefly) |
|
|
|
... something large, something grand, something epic. The greatest these |
|
are my own words, of course the greatest righting of the gravest wrong |
|
ever done in the Five Points. |
|
|
|
The crowd quiets, their sporting blood still up, curiosity engaged. Only |
|
Johnny seems glum, concerned. |
|
|
|
This is to be a duel not for money, but for honor! A fight to the death... |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(interrupting, emphasizing) |
|
To the death. If he can stand up to it. |
|
|
|
BARNUM |
|
... on which money, I hasten to add, may certainly be wagered. The names |
|
of the two champions are Amsterdam Vallon, here beside me, and ... and Mr. |
|
William Poole, known to all as ... |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
(leaping up) |
|
They know me by any name, you son of a bitch! |
|
|
|
The crowd ERUPTS: this is a death match between Olympians. Only Johnny |
|
does not rejoice. He looks at Amsterdam's face, flush with the belief that |
|
the right moment has finally come, and he has to turn away. He walks away |
|
from the ring as Killoran tries unsuccessfully to PULL the Butcher down |
|
and cool him off. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
(yelling) |
|
I'll have him stretched on a spit! |
|
|
|
Killoran is beside him now, whispering urgently. Bill the Butcher shakes |
|
his head vehemently. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
(to Killoran) |
|
You got no more to say about this now. |
|
|
|
92 CONTINUED: |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Come on, Bill! Let go of your Tammany wet nurse! My challenge, your terms. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
(to Bill) |
|
Don't do it, you can't do it! There's the Conscription to deal with, and |
|
elections coming, too. That's your calling now, not these ancient quarrels. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I'll do my work. But this is a shame, a public shame. It demands my |
|
attention. |
|
(yelling to Amsterdam) |
|
Fine, then! Fine and welcome! Day after elections, we'll meet with seconds |
|
on neutral ground to work out time and terms. It will be done and done. |
|
|
|
He walks to the ring, holds his HAND out to Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You know this hand. Last time it was this close, it was on your throat. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I remember it better from another time. |
|
|
|
He takes the Butcher's hand. The duel is on. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
93 INT./EXT. DRAFT REGISTRATION OFFICE |
|
|
|
START CLOSE ON: money being counted out: $300. And a RECEIPT quickly |
|
written and given. We think at first this must be a bet being made on the |
|
duel between Amsterdam and Bill the Butcher- |
|
|
|
But we go WIDER to reveal: an office, tables and chairs, and a line. Two |
|
lines, in fact. One, very long, filled with young man. And the second, |
|
very short, in which a CLERK is handing the receipt to a PROSPEROUS YOUNG |
|
MAN. |
|
|
|
CLERK |
|
Your release from service, according to the terms of the Conscription Act. |
|
Keep it somewhere safe. |
|
|
|
PROSPEROUS YOUNG MAN |
|
I'll keep it with me. |
|
|
|
There is only one OTHER PERSON standen behind the Prosperous Young Man, |
|
and he steps up quickly and hands $300 to the Clerk as the Prosperous |
|
Young Man heads for the door... |
|
|
|
... past the second line, which snakes out into the street, filled with |
|
draftees who SHOUT at the Prosperous Young Man as he leaves. |
|
|
|
DRAFTEE 1 |
|
Hey, tell your Papa to pass me three hundred dollars too. |
|
|
|
DRAFTEE 2 |
|
Tell him if he don't we'll come get you on our way to Gettysburg. |
|
|
|
The Prosperous Young Man HURRIES away, but spots Boss Tweed and Daniel |
|
Killoran as he leaves. |
|
|
|
PROSPEROUS YOUNG MAN |
|
Oh, Mr. Tweed, I'd take the time to say proper thanks but... |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
No thanks owed, son. Conscription's Federal Law, and so's the $300 |
|
exemption. You might remind your father, though, that you saw me here |
|
today, minding that the law's strictly and equitably enforced. |
|
|
|
The Prosperous Young Man hurries out, as the Draftees continue to holler |
|
abuse. Boss Tweed HEADS for them, followed by Killoran. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
You see how much they like this damned law? Enforcing it's going to hurt |
|
us in elections. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
It's not my law, and not my liking, either. But Washington's always |
|
treated us with sufferance, and we must extend the same regard to them. |
|
(to Draftees) |
|
Boys, we are bound by honor and love of country to fight in this time of |
|
crisis! |
|
|
|
DRAFTEE 4 |
|
We're bound by our wallets and the emptiness in them, that's what! |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Boys, the union is in distress, our land is wounded deeply, our future is |
|
suddenly a frail and finite thing. We must ask ourselves how... |
|
|
|
DRAFTEE 5 |
|
Yeah, you could talk a dog off a meat wagen, Tweed. But let's see you |
|
fight! |
|
|
|
DRAFTEE 6 |
|
That'd be worth twice three hundred dollars to see! |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(as he backs off) |
|
Thank you, boys, thank you for your understanding. |
|
(to Killoran) |
|
Holy Mother. |
|
|
|
Tweed hustles Killoran outside, where the line of Potential draftees |
|
snakes down the block and into Paradise Square. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Daniel, between the blindness of Washington and the damned brass of Bill |
|
Poole Tammany will fall like an autumn leaf. We must take what measures we |
|
can. Attend to the Butcher. After the elections, of course. Unless you |
|
think Amsterdam will do our work for us first. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
He could at that. Then he would become a fresh concern |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Not so daunting as this. |
|
(turns to the Draftees in the street) |
|
Boys, I've just had a word with your compatriots inside, and if you show |
|
half the sand and a fraction of the spirit they have manifeste for joining |
|
this great struggle... |
|
|
|
There is a chorus of BOOS and JEEPS from the Draftees outside. |
|
|
|
OUTSIDE DRAFTEE |
|
Put a rope around it, Tweed, and swing in your own wind! |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Great weeping Jesus, Daniel, whatever happened to the halcyon days? |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
94 EXT. POLLING PLACE/PARADISE SQUARE DAY |
|
|
|
Election Day pandemonium. The Dead Rabbits aren't working the repeaters |
|
this day, but Johnny observes the action as Native Americans--identifiable |
|
because of their long dusters--strongarm REPEATERS into the polls. |
|
|
|
His attention is drawn to a HARRIED TELEGRAPH OPERATOR, who is being |
|
SHOUTED at by Natives as he is inundated by pieces of paper and teetering |
|
volumes of the voting registry. It's chaos. The poor Operator can't cope. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
95 INT. TAMMANY HALL |
|
|
|
It's chaos here, too. The large main room is filled with TELEGRAPH |
|
OPERATORS receiving election returns. There is SHOUTING and CONCERN |
|
throughout the room. Even Boss Tweed shows signs of worry. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I swear that science will be the death of industry. |
|
|
|
KILLORKN |
|
The telegraph moves the voter tabulation by wire faster than we can get |
|
the repeaters in and out. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(losing patience) |
|
Your role is to expedite, Daniel, not to explain. |
|
(Killoran looks at him blankly) |
|
Do something! |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
If you'll allow me. |
|
|
|
They both TURN to see Johnny standing coolly before them. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
There's a scheme we might try. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
You got no place among us, get the hell out of here however you come in. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
A moment please, Daniel. One moment. |
|
(to Johnny) |
|
You're a Dead Rabbit, aren't you? Friend to Amsterdam? |
|
(Johnny nods) |
|
And therefore no particular friend to us. What brings you here? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Opportunity. Science and opportunity. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
You got opportunities enough among your own. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I did have. But times change faster than people. Some people, anyhow. And |
|
I like to stay with the advantage. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Well, then, a Gentleman of foresight! Are you suggesting... or perhaps |
|
you're even saying... that your friend and your gang may be ... well, |
|
lagging behind the great march of history? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Something like that, yeah. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Well fine, step up to history then and tell us what you have in mind. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
96 EXT. POLLING PLACE/PARADISE SQUARE DAY |
|
|
|
START CLOSE ON: telegraph wire, HUMMING with the election returns. And, |
|
below it--far below--Johnny, Killoran and a couple of TAMMANY BOYOS, |
|
looking up at the wire. |
|
|
|
BOYO 1 |
|
I ain't goin' up there. I got my election suit on. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
This election'll be over unless we get up there. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
"We?" This was your notion, you go up there. |
|
|
|
BOYO 2 |
|
(looking at polling place) |
|
Him. He looks likely, and he ain't workin'. |
|
|
|
He points over at Sheeny Mike Kurtz, who is observing the action at the |
|
polls. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(calls to him) |
|
Sheeny Mike, you want to make ... |
|
(to Boyo 1) |
|
...how much? |
|
|
|
BOYO 1 |
|
A dollar. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(to Sheeny Mike) |
|
Five dollars? Just to help us? |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
(a bit wary) |
|
What's the pitch, Johnny? Amsterdam wouldn't like it, working with Tammany. |
|
|
|
BOYO 2 |
|
Well, now, if Amsterdam wouldn't like it ... |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(interrupting) |
|
He knows about it. Welre working a whole new scheme. But I won't tell him |
|
youlre helping, if that's the way you want it. And you can keep the full |
|
five. Just start climbing. |
|
|
|
SHEENY MIKE |
|
(beat) |
|
Where's the ned? |
|
|
|
Boyo 2 hands Sheeny Mike five bucks, which he pockets as Boyo 1 gives him |
|
a large pair of SHEARS. Mike wipes his palms on his pants and STARTS UP |
|
the pole. |
|
|
|
For Killoran and the Tammany Boyos, this is like a circus stunt. They |
|
watch Mike's ascent with pleasure. |
|
|
|
Sheeny Mike is quite pleased with himself as he nears the top of the pole. |
|
He turns to look at Johnny and the Tammany group below. A couple of |
|
SPECTATORS have stopped to watch as well. |
|
|
|
Mike gets to the top of the pole, REACHES OUT--STRETCHES OUT-toward the |
|
telegraph wire with the shears... |
|
|
|
... strains... reaches ... MAKES THE CUT. |
|
|
|
On the ground, Johnny looks relieved. The Boyos offer a partmocking round |
|
of applause. |
|
|
|
In the spirit of things, Sheeny Mike TURNS to acknowledge the applause. |
|
Just briefly. But long enough so he's distracted. He sees the upturned |
|
FACES fill suddenly with fear, and he TURNS when he HEA.RS a sharp, odd |
|
WHISTLING NOISE. |
|
|
|
A LIVE TELEGRAPH WIRE is coming at him. He doesn't even have time to |
|
scream. The wire hits him, whipping around him as JOLTS OF NT leap through |
|
his body and he FALLS to the ground. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
97 EXT. PARADISE SQUA.RE DAY |
|
|
|
HANDS pick up the lifeless body of Sheeny Mike and start to carry it |
|
off... past Amsterdam and Jenny, who stand on one side of it, watching... |
|
and Johnny, who is on the other. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
He was working a Tammany job, Tammany will see to him. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
He wasn't Tammany. Not like you. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
He made the right choice. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You don't know what you're saying! You killed one of our own. One of your |
|
family! |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(slowly) |
|
I didn't know he was going to die, Amsterdam. And don't tell me what's my |
|
own and what isn't. You're not my family. And I swear, I swear on the |
|
Virgin Mother's eyes ... I know what I'm doing, Amsterdam. It's you that's |
|
always been blind. |
|
(they look at each other) |
|
I'll say my farewells. |
|
|
|
Johnny KNEELS down beside Mike's body, brushes the hair from his brow. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
You still smell like drink. |
|
|
|
He nods to the Rabbits to carry the body on and, as he RISES a half-dozen |
|
NEWSBOYS DASH into the square, carrying fresh copies of the Tribune and |
|
crying... |
|
|
|
NEWSBOYS |
|
New Tammany victory! Fernando Wood elected to third term! Tammany ticket |
|
prevails by narrow margin! Boss Tweed vows |
|
Armageddon for crime! |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(looking at Amsterdam and Jenny) |
|
Can't you hear the future? |
|
|
|
He walks away from the gang, through the rushing Newspaper Boys. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
98 INT. SPARROW'S CHINESE PAGODA |
|
|
|
The place has been cleared out for a war council: Amsterdam with a couple |
|
of Dead Rabbits, and Bill the Butcher with a few Natives. They sit at a |
|
round poker table with a green felt top. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
We say the Square is the place. Let Barnum sell the tickets for a share of |
|
the price... |
|
|
|
NATIVE SECOND |
|
(interrupting) |
|
A small share. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
And the Rabbits and Natives will split the majority portion equal. |
|
|
|
NATIVE SECOND |
|
Who works the crowd? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Nobody. This is a day of honor. No pickpockets, no lush-rollers, nothing. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I'll cut their hands off. After the fight. |
|
|
|
NATIVE SECOND |
|
We got to fix positions for everyone so there won't be no other fighting. |
|
I know for fact the Roach Guards has sworn blood against the Black Birds, |
|
and the Forty Thieves don't tolerate the Chichesters. |
|
|
|
As these delicate negotiations continue, the only two outsiders in the |
|
place, Mother Joyce and a Bartender, are listening intently on the far |
|
side of the room. |
|
|
|
BARTENDER |
|
Amsterdam will make the Butcher a fine banquet. |
|
|
|
MOTHER JOYCE |
|
My ned's on the boy. He's got the youth, and he's got the hunger. |
|
|
|
BARTENDER |
|
Is he so hungry you'll put up a hundred? |
|
|
|
MOTHER JOYCE |
|
Two. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
99 EXT. PARADISE SQUARE DAY |
|
|
|
OFFICIALS stand on a high wooden platform facing a JEERING CROWD. Banners |
|
announce a "DRAFT LOTTERY." OFFICIALS are preparing to draw the first |
|
numbers as Boss Tweed gives out with a speech. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Your honor... yes, and the law of the land... lies in the balance. The |
|
Conscription Act of 1863 was handed down by President Lincoln himself ... |
|
|
|
CROWD MEMBER |
|
(shouting) |
|
If Lincoln signed it, then let Lincoln fight! |
|
|
|
CROWD MEMBER 2 |
|
It's an army of the poor fighting for a bunch of rich slackers! |
|
|
|
CROWD MEMBER |
|
Tammany's been our voice, let Tammany pay the exemption for all! |
|
|
|
A YOUNG MEMBER of the crowd steps forward as Boss Tweed turns to look at |
|
those backing him on the platform: Killoran, a CAVALRY OFFICER in fancy |
|
dress ... and, out of sight of the crowd, Johnny Sirocco. Their |
|
expressions are not reassuring. |
|
|
|
YOUNG CROWD MEMBER |
|
Your first payment, m'lords. |
|
|
|
The Young Crowd Member hurls a STONE through the front window of a nearby |
|
store. The CROWD cheers and runs to sack the store, and others SURGE |
|
toward the platform. Johnny'and Killoran grab a fearful Tweed and rush him |
|
to safety. But the Cavalry Officer stands his ground with sword and |
|
pistol. He SHOOTS. |
|
|
|
That STOPS them. But only for a fractured, eerie moment. Then they jump on |
|
the Cavalry Officer, PULL him to the ground, begin to KICK and BEAT him. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
100 EXT. STREET/JACOB'S LADDER NIGHT |
|
|
|
A building burns at the end of the street, spreading a silhouette of smoke |
|
and flame in the air... |
|
|
|
... as a LION CHARGES down the street, growling, scattering RIOTERS in its |
|
wake. It's a mad, frightening sight, like a fulfillment of the Biblical |
|
prophecy produced by P.T Barnum, whose Museum is burning in the distance. |
|
|
|
SCREAMS, YELLS, CURSES and GROANS. CRIES of pain and fear as RIOTERS jump |
|
out of the way of the wild animal, then course up the street toward |
|
Broadway burning in the distance. |
|
|
|
From ABOVE, on the roof of Jacob's Ladder, Amsterdam and Jenny watch the |
|
madness below. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(watching lion) |
|
That must be the vanguard of Barnum's army. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
This city will burn like Gomorrah. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Then we'll take what we can before it gets too hot. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I think it's past that already. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
It'll never come to that. These people ain't gang-led and they have no |
|
purpose. |
|
|
|
They'd rather die for themselves than the army, that's the purpose. What |
|
would you do? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Fight better and not get so mad. They're only doing what they should have |
|
done years ago. Why'd they ever think there was another way to live? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
They believed what people told them, that's all. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What people is that? The Reverend at the mission? Boss Tweed? Daniel |
|
Killoran? People like Johnny Sirocco? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You believed Johnny. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Hell. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
And I believed you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I ain't done nothing different than what I told you, Jen. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I believed what you said abaut being with me, with me alone. But you lied |
|
to me. It's not me alone, it's just you and Bill Poole. Youlre so |
|
blood-blind you can't see nothing else, not even this! |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I don't care a fine damn about what they want! It's what I want! They |
|
won't dare harm the Points, that's all I care about! Let them turn the |
|
rest of the city into hell! It's another country anyway. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
It's not a country for me, Amsterdam. I don't know about you. Will you |
|
come with me? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Not now. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Now is when I'm going. Will you come? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I don't want all this fighting to go to waste, Jen. I want to come out of |
|
it with something. And I got to be waiting for the Butcher. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
101 INT. UNDERGROUND/JACOB'S LADDER |
|
|
|
Jenny digs out her treasure from her mother's grave, throws open the box, |
|
starts to GRAB all the swag she can and hide it on her person... in her |
|
pockets, under her clothes, anywhere. She takes as much as she can, but |
|
she has to travel fast. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
102 EXT. STREET NIGHT |
|
|
|
Beginning a swift series of scenes that are like a laudanum nightmare. |
|
|
|
The street is JAMMED with people fleeing and people fighting... as Jenny |
|
forces her way through, trying to escape. |
|
|
|
A small mob starts to ATTACK a house where a TERRIFIED FAMILY stands in |
|
the doorway. |
|
|
|
FAMILY MAN |
|
We're with you, don't harm us! |
|
|
|
MOB MAN |
|
Show us your spirit and come out with us then! |
|
|
|
MOB WOMAN |
|
And put a candle in the window to show you're one with us! Every light is |
|
a flame against the draft! |
|
|
|
The WIFE begs her husband not to join the mob, but they PULL HIM out into |
|
the street. The Mob Woman hands the Wife a candle, then runs back to join |
|
the mob. |
|
|
|
Jenny starts to cross Paradise Square now... tries to cross, anyway... and |
|
passes the stand where Tweed delivered his speech that very morning. She |
|
sees: the Cavalry officer. Several MOB WOMEN have revived him with water. |
|
He has been beaten terribly, but as he MOANS and starts to regain |
|
consciousness, the MOB WOMEN fall upon him with fresh fury, KICKING and |
|
HITTING his helpless body. They BREAK his bones with rocks and TEAR OFF |
|
the fancy braid of his uniform to hang around their necks. |
|
|
|
Now a SECOND MOB RUSHES toward the first from the opposite side of |
|
Paradise Square. Chaos. Jenny is buffeted wildly. It's like being in a |
|
whirlpool. She grabs a LITTLE GIRL whose face is bruised and blaody but |
|
whose eyes shine wildly. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
What is it? |
|
|
|
LITTLE GIRL |
|
Cops has everything closed to the north, and the militia's coming. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
103 EXT. STREET/FIVE POINTS NIGHT |
|
|
|
As Jenny presses her way through the mob-devoured streets. She sees: MEN, |
|
WOMEN and CHILDREN attacking a small group of BLACKS. |
|
|
|
BOY |
|
My Daddy don't have to die for you! Why should he fight and die for you? |
|
|
|
Jenny looks ahead, sees: the river, in the distance. And flames. She runs |
|
forward, STUMBLES. Some of the swag FALLS to the street. She SCRAMBLES to |
|
pick it up as Rioters rush by her. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
104 EXT. PIERS HUDSON RIVER NIGHT |
|
|
|
MATTE: The surface of the water looks like a mirror made of flame. The |
|
piers are BURNING. The docks are ash. |
|
|
|
SAILORS battle a MOB for possession of a small rowboat. As they fight, the |
|
boat starts to DRIFT. Jenny spots it, RUNS for it |
|
|
|
... but so does ANOTHER GIRL. Younger than Tenny--20 maybe, Jennyls age |
|
when Amsterdam fell in love with her. They both get to the boat at the |
|
same time. Each grips it by a gunwale, and they STARE at each other like |
|
two jungle beasts over a kill. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I'd kill you for this. |
|
|
|
The Girl lunges at her with a knite, and Jenny SHOOTS. The GIRL slides |
|
into the flame-reflecting Hudson as if she drowning in a pit of lava. |
|
|
|
Jenny climbs into the boat and frantically starts to row. We stay CLOSE on |
|
her ... working the oars clumsily, furiously ... moving the boat across |
|
the water, trying to get away from the city... |
|
|
|
... and we go WIDER now. A huge line of IRON--like the side of a |
|
glacier... bisects the frame, then starts to move. Jenny |
|
turns, SEES it. It is ... |
|
|
|
... the looming hull of an ironclad war ship (MATTE). It LOBS cannon fire |
|
into the city, setting off tremendous explosions. |
|
Jenny TURNS back for the shore... |
|
|
|
... as cannonballs land, devastating rioters. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
105 EXT. SHORE/RIVER NIGHT |
|
|
|
MATTE: Police and MILITIA push the rioters back toward the river like |
|
rats. A cannanball EXPLODES in their midst... |
|
|
|
... injuring many more cops and militia than rioters. The rioters rally, |
|
RUN over the bodies of fallen cops and soldiers. Now the advantage is |
|
theirs; cops and militia are in retreat. |
|
|
|
Jenny climbs up on shore and joins the mob as it presses back inland. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
106 EXT. DOYERS STREET/THE BLOODY ANGLE NIGHT |
|
|
|
Further from the docks. Shells still exploding in the distance. Jenny |
|
moves with the marauding mob, recognizes Doyers Street. She splits away |
|
from the mob, moves stealthily into the street known as the Bloody Angle. |
|
And STOPS. |
|
|
|
Weird shadows dance on the walls of the buildings. SMOKE and EERIE LIGHT. |
|
The angle is lined with lampposts. And from every lamppost dangles the |
|
BODY of a black man. Or woman. Or child. Some are still smouldering. |
|
|
|
At the base of a lamppost, a group of RIOTERS have cut open the hog-tied |
|
CORPSE of a black man and are pouring oil into it. One of the Rioters sees |
|
Jenny, grins and holds out the TORCH he's holding. She shakes her head and |
|
starts to BACK out of the alley. |
|
|
|
The Rioter touches the torch to the oil in the wound of the corpse. The |
|
body IGNITES in flame. The RIOTERS pull on a rope and the body rises, |
|
burning, to the top of the lamppost ... |
|
|
|
... where its awful shadow joins all the others in the madhouse |
|
refractions on walls all up and down the street. On the street, as the |
|
flames dance and the bodies burn, rioters DANCE and SING. Walpurgis Night. |
|
From these mad SHADOWS, we... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
107 EXT. ROOF/JACOB-S LADDER NIGHT |
|
|
|
... the face of Amsterdam, stepping out of the SHADOWS of the roof. There |
|
are flames in the distance. The whole gang is assembled, facing him as he |
|
speaks. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
No we ain't going to fight, but we can take something for ourselves out of |
|
this. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
I want to know who hung them bodies in the Bloody Angle. I want to address |
|
who done it. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Five thousand people in the street done it! Boss Tweed done it! Abe |
|
Lincoln done it! There's nothing you can do about any one of them but stay |
|
with us. You'll have a little of your own back. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
How's that? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
These riots are a gift. They... |
|
|
|
... he PAUSES just for a moment as he sees a hand on the last rung of the |
|
outside ladder leading to the roof: it's Jenny, returning. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
... they've made everything clear, as you might say. |
|
(to Jenny) |
|
Are you with us, then? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Until I can get out. I'll go with you... |
|
(straight at Amsterdam) |
|
...meantime. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Good. We're going for the Armory at Canal Street. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
The Armory! We'll have to beat the militia to get there. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
There's a way through the lines. Jen, did you see the cops and militia? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I can show you from here where they are. I doubt they'll get to the Armory |
|
in force before midday tomorrow. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
We'll get there first. We'll take everything we can carry, and destroy the |
|
rest so no one else has the use of it, the militia, the Natives, nobody. |
|
Then we'll turn to real business. We'll go down to the Battery. |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
Why, we going to take a sail to Europe? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
No. But we could, after this. We're going... |
|
(slowly, savoring this) |
|
...we're going to take the banks. The government banks. |
|
(awed silence from all) |
|
Are we not? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(beat; steps forward) |
|
Seems we are. |
|
|
|
One by one, then in small groups, the entire gang FOLLOWS her. They are |
|
uncertain, reluctant, even frightened at the audacity of the scheme. But |
|
they stand with Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
108 INT. MAIN ROOM/TAMMANY HALL NIGHT |
|
|
|
The crowded main room of Boss Tweed's domain, jammed with anxious |
|
POLITICOS and OFFICIALS, as well as a harried group of TELEGRAPH OPERATORS |
|
who receive news of the riots from all over Manhattan. There is a huge map |
|
of the city against one wall: the place has been converted from a |
|
political princedom to an operational headquarters. Johnny Sirocco and |
|
Bill The Butcher are there. Other guests include the GOVERNOR, Mayor |
|
Fernando Wood, and a badly shaken Horace Greeley. |
|
|
|
GREELEY |
|
They attacked me! I had every sympathy for them at first... |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Too much sympathy, Horace. Writing these riots were a rising against |
|
"unjust laws and unsuitable law-givers." The shame! |
|
|
|
GOVERNOR |
|
I suspended the draft at noon but the mobs only grew more virulent. It is |
|
a criminal rising of the lowest class, of the Gangsters and rabble who |
|
have been allowed by Tammany to run lawless! |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
It was Tammany and the rabble that elected you, Governor. And it's Tammany |
|
and the gangs who'll stop it. Isn't that so, Bill? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
(nods at Johnny) |
|
I won't say nothin' in front of him. Who knows what business he's here on? |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
He's here on our business and my invitation. He's already been of great |
|
help. What's the opposition strength, John? |
|
|
|
To answer, Johnny yanks back a CURTAIN drawn across a high window. The |
|
view, looking downtown, is one of almost continual ILLUMINATION-- every |
|
place the eye falls, CANDLES burn in sympathy for the rioters. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Each candle is against you, gents. |
|
|
|
MAYOR |
|
"Against you," sir? Don't you mean "us". |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(diplomatic) |
|
Some of us come from those people, Mayor. I'll not deny they still claim |
|
part of me. |
|
|
|
MAYOR |
|
Which part? Perhaps your heart. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Gentlemen, I'm sorry you find it necessary to question the loyalty of my |
|
friend here, and by extension, my own judgement. So as proof ... John, |
|
where will the mob go? What will the gangs do? |
|
(Johnny is uneasy about answering) |
|
Go on, tell them what you told me. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
There's no telling about the mob. Or the small gangs. But the Dead Rabbits |
|
... if I was Amsterdam... |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(interrupting) |
|
As indeed you nearly was. Were. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
... if I was ... I'd figure to take the Rabbits to the Armory. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Would you agree with that, Bill? Wouldn't you do the same? If you were |
|
fighting against the militia instead of beside them? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Beside them? What are you talking... ? |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(interrupting) |
|
You will have to fight beside them to take the Armory. It cannot fall into |
|
unfriendly hands. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I can't stand with the militia against the people. I could never work the |
|
Points no more if I did. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
We're all of us swept up in a great tide of events, Bill. Have you learned |
|
to swim? |
|
|
|
From Bill's face, struggling to make sense of this, knowing Tweed's right |
|
but not wanting to believe it, we ... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
109 INT. MAIN ROOM/TAMMANY HALL NIGHT |
|
|
|
... Johnny's face, as Tweed talks to him. It is later, and the Butcher has |
|
left. The activity is still frantic all around, but Tweed speaks in |
|
unhurried tones. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
I'm sure that Bill will do his usual splendid job. But after that ... |
|
well, I'm afraid he's grown away from us. |
|
(Johnny looks puzzled) |
|
He shows distressing signs of... shall we say, free-thinking. Crime |
|
flourishes in chaos, and these riots could encourage Bill to overstep |
|
himself. He no longer inspires in me the same trust... well, that you |
|
might. If you can prove yourself further. |
|
|
|
109 CONTINUED: |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
You already said in front of everyone you trusted me. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
In vital things. Would I be talking to you now otherwise? Vital things, |
|
but small things. Are you equal to greater responsibility and opportunity? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Such as what? |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Ridding me of Bill the Butcher. |
|
(Johnny is startled) |
|
He may question your loyalty to me, but Bill would never believe you had |
|
the sand to go against him. He'd never expect it. Do you have the sand? |
|
|
|
From Johnny's face, struggling to make the right answer, we... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
110 INT. JACOB'S LADDER |
|
|
|
... Ansterdam's face, as he looks up from preparing a brace of pistols for |
|
the next day's scheme. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Let him in. |
|
|
|
Johnny enters the common room of Jaccb's Ladder, where the Dead Rabbits |
|
have gathered to ready themselves. As they work over their weapons and |
|
prepare battle dress, Johnny walks through their midst. They do not |
|
acknowledge him... except for Jenny. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Did you miss us, John? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Not a bit. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(rising to meet him) |
|
Are you here to spy? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I don't have to spy. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam leads Johnny off to a shadowy corner of the room where they can |
|
talk privately. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(as they walk) |
|
I know what you're doing. I told Tweed what you're doing. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You don't know what I'm doing. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
You're going after the Armory. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Am I now? Why do you think that? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
'Cause that's what I would do, and you and I think alike. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
No more. And it don't seem worth a visit to tell me something you already |
|
think I'm doing. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
There's something else alright. Tweed's arranged to kill Bill the Butcher. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(disbelieving) |
|
Who could Tweed get to do that? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
One of his own. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
There's no one around him... |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(interrupting) |
|
Listen, it don't matter who, it's going to be done, that's all! Tweed |
|
ain't going to wait around |
|
for you and Bill to settle yourselves. I'm telling you so you have a |
|
chance. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Chance of what? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
A chance... a chance to do what you want. Bury the Butcher, draw what |
|
blood you got to. But you better make speed. The Natives will move on the |
|
Armory too. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
And what's any of it mean to you? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
It means whatever's left of friendship, I don't know. There's still part |
|
of me here. I don't |
|
want to see you lose everything in your life at once. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I'm going to lose nothing. |
|
(beat) |
|
If you believe me, you can stay. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
I got to go. |
|
|
|
He turns so Amsterdam can't see his face and LEAVES- |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
So Tammany's going to kill the Butcher. That puts you and Tweed on the |
|
same side. Does that make the path clear enough to suit you? |
|
|
|
From Amsterdam's face, trying to work out all the new angles, we... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
111 INT. NATIVE AMERICAN HIDEOUT |
|
|
|
... Amsterdam's face, full of resolve, staring unblinking as ... |
|
|
|
... the barrels of two dozen RIFLES SURROUND the edges the screen, boxing |
|
Amsterdam in, as if his head were in a frame. |
|
|
|
And Bill the Butcher gazes at him with astonishment. We are, for the first |
|
time, in the Natives' lair, a house hung with American flags of all shapes |
|
and vintages, some of them torn by battle, others by years of weather and |
|
use. Some of them go back to the early days of the republic. There is not |
|
an inch of wood or wall space to be seen for all the stars and stripes. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Murder Me? No one's going to murder me. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Then you better learn to fight locking over your shoulder, Bill, because |
|
that's the only way you'll ever see it coming. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I don't believe it, and I don't believe it's you telling me. You got no |
|
reason to care about any danger to me. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
One reason. You're my kill, Butcher. No one else is going to have you, not |
|
Tweed, not Tammany, not those pigs in the street. No one--not even you, |
|
Bill--will ever take the pleasure of your death away from me. I'd do |
|
anything to keep you for my own, even if I have to protect you. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You protect me? Get out of here and go to hell. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Fine, so long as I pass you on my way. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Maybe I'd believe you more if I knew who was talking to you. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Someone I credit. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
That means nothing to me. None of this means nothing to me because I am |
|
Tammany. Without me and my Natives they're nothing but a bunch of old |
|
horses at a trough. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You join with me and we fight against Tammany, fight them back and out of |
|
the Points. Then you and me can settle. But if you don't join with me, |
|
then there won't be no settlement because you'll be murdered in the street |
|
and the whole Points will be mine. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I relish the thought... just the thought... of cutting you up and opening |
|
you wide. So if just thinking about it gives me such pleasure, imagine how |
|
I'm going to enjoy doing it. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Why don't I make it easy for you, then. |
|
|
|
He TURNS his back on the Butcher and starts to walk out, through the |
|
entire gang of Natives. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Same as you're making it easy for Tweed. |
|
|
|
He keeps walking... through the Natives ... dozens of ancient enemies |
|
glowering at him. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Amsterdam! |
|
(Amsterdam looks around) |
|
Don't be like your father. Don't make it too easy. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam struggles to keep his temper. But he turns and keeps walking |
|
through the enemy camp as we... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
112 INT. JACOB'S LADDER |
|
|
|
....Amsterdam walking. But this time, he is WALKING among his gang. All |
|
the Dead Rabbits are assembled, weapons ready. Jenny is beside him. Then |
|
Jimmy Spoils. Then a few others. |
|
|
|
As the group passes, others STAND and walk with them... |
|
|
|
... until the whole gang is rallied... |
|
|
|
... and bound for the passageway in the corner of the room that leads |
|
under the building. |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
113 INT. BASEMENT |
|
|
|
As Amsterdam and the gang heads through the catacomb-like basement, past |
|
the graves, into a tunnel. Torchlight GUTTERS all around. Their steps echo |
|
like repeated rifle shots. |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
114 INT. TUNNEL |
|
|
|
The whole gang MARCHES down a tunnel under the Old Brewery. Except for |
|
Amsterdam and Jenny, they all wear their tamlas. Many have marks and gang |
|
insignia on their faces. All of them have weapons. A lot of weapons. |
|
|
|
Frightened FACES--people seeking shelter and safety from the riots--appear |
|
in the darkness, then vanish like ghosts. |
|
|
|
As the Rabbits walk, they summon memories of the first fight, that same |
|
march through the tunnels when Amsterdam marched beside his father. |
|
Amsterdam's face gives little away. But perhaps he is remembering that day |
|
too. |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
115 INT. TUNNEL |
|
|
|
The last tunnel.. Shreds of light from a door in the distance. Amsterdam |
|
walks up to the door and--just as Monk Eastman did years before--KICKS it |
|
down. Dim dawn LIGHT FLOODS the tunnel as the Dead Rabbits step out. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
116 EXT. CANAL STREET DAWN |
|
|
|
The first thing we see is an ELEPHANT, who trumpets fearfully at the |
|
sudden sound of the sattere door. The gang stops, wary of this huge |
|
refugee from Barnum's Museum, but the animal is more frightened of them. |
|
It hurries on down the street... |
|
|
|
... revealing behind it a group of several dozen RIOTERS who carry a huge |
|
American flag and a long wooden plank bearing the legend "No Draft." They |
|
stare at the Rabbits with something near reverence. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Where's the Native Americans? |
|
|
|
RIOTER |
|
Ain't seen them. Ain't here. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
And the militia? |
|
|
|
RIOTER |
|
There's a detachment coming on from two streets over. The rest is still |
|
north of here. What are you after? |
|
|
|
Amsterdam POINTS to a formidable building a block away: the Armory. It |
|
looks like a fortress. |
|
|
|
RIOTER |
|
The Devil himself couldn't take that place. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
That's why he sent us. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
117 EXT. STREET NEAR ARMORY/ DAY |
|
|
|
The DETACHMENT of militia proceeds warily towards the Armory. They are a |
|
young, uncertain-looking outfit; their COMMANDER looks like an upstate |
|
farm kid. He tenses and his eyes widen as he sees Jenny walking toward |
|
him, carrying a BOY in her arms. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(crying) |
|
Help me. Oh please help me. He's shot, we need a doctor, please help. |
|
|
|
DETACHMENT COMMANDER |
|
Miss, we ain't a medical outfit. The main unit's ten minutes behind us, |
|
they'll have... |
|
|
|
He doesn't get the chance to finish. Jenny DROPS the Boy from her arms and |
|
shoots the Detachment Commander once, cleanly... |
|
|
|
... as the Boy roles into a prone position and FIRES two shots into the |
|
stunned Detachment... |
|
|
|
... while the Dead Rabbits SWARM from every doorway along the street, |
|
FIRING GUNS and brandishing weapons. |
|
|
|
It's over in seconds. The Detachment has hardly gotten off a shot. Every |
|
one of them lies dead or wounded in the street... |
|
|
|
... as the Rabbits CROUCH over their bodies. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
118 EXT. ARMORY DAY |
|
|
|
A rifle emplacement manned by a dozen GUARDS- They stand anxious post in |
|
front of the Armory. Each window is barred and fortified, and the front |
|
door is massive. But the tension in the Guards' faces eases a little when |
|
they see ... |
|
|
|
... the Detachment of militia heading towards them down the street. Some |
|
of the Detachment are wearing bloody uniform jackets; several are being |
|
carried. The Detachment, unrecognized by the Guards, is made up entirely |
|
of Dead Rabbits. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Help us, we got wounded! |
|
|
|
GUARD 1 |
|
We can't leave the post. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Open the damn doors then! We're bad hurt! |
|
|
|
GUARD 1 |
|
Where's the others? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Just behind us! But I got our major here wounded so bad half his guts is |
|
out! |
|
|
|
Guard 1 SIGNALS for the doors to be opened to the Armory as the Detachment |
|
draws close to the emplacement. |
|
|
|
GUARD 1 |
|
God, it's good to see you! |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Likewise. |
|
|
|
Ainsterdam SHOOTS him where he stands as the Rabbits OVERWHELM the |
|
emplacement. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(shouting) |
|
Move fast! We got to get out with everything we can before the militia |
|
gets here! |
|
|
|
As the Armory Guards return fire, the Boy Jenny carried in the previous |
|
scene RUNS for the telegraph pole and starts to CLIMB. A SHOT makes the |
|
wood fly inches from his face... |
|
|
|
... as the Rabbits storm into the Armory, FIRING wildly. |
|
|
|
The Boy reaches the top of the telegraph pole and CUTS the wire. He |
|
shinnies back down the pole as the wire SWINGS ineffectually in the air |
|
and we ... |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
INT. Y HALL/MAIN ROOM 119 |
|
|
|
..a telegram, held in Killoran's hand. He passes it to Tweed. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
It's from the Armory Guards. That's the last before the wire went dead. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
(reading, furious) |
|
If the Rabbits are already at the Armory, where the hell is Bill and the |
|
militia? |
|
|
|
He THROWS the telegram onto the floor, where it joins a whole SEA of |
|
yellow telegraph forms. They are shin-high; there must be thousands of |
|
them. |
|
|
|
KILLORAN |
|
They got to be near. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
So long as they're near, it's alright. The Rabbits can take the Armory, |
|
but they can't hold it. If Bill can get into position, he can make sure |
|
they don't get out. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Alright then, John, you pray to any God you choose that's the fact of it. |
|
If Bill thinks he can best the Natives, that is your opportunity. That is |
|
your moment. |
|
(Johnny hesitates) |
|
Are you a Bible man? The Book says in Revelations, "I saw a new heaven and |
|
a new earth." If the hand of God's not on you to fulfill that prophecy, |
|
then the hand of Tweed will be. Go on and God bless. |
|
|
|
Johnny looks like he is about to say something, but he stops; looks at |
|
Tweed a moment longer; then nods acknowledgment and leaves. |
|
|
|
GOVERNOR |
|
I don't believe he can do it, Tweed. |
|
|
|
BOSS TWEED |
|
Oh, I think he can. Whether it's one man against another or a mob against |
|
the city, the mathematics remain the same. You never enjoyed the |
|
enlightenment of poverty, did you, Governor? If you had, you'd know you |
|
can always hire half the poor to kill the other half. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
120 EXT. ARMORY DAY |
|
|
|
A TREMENDOUS VOLLEY of GUNFIRE, as if to illustrate the Tweed theory of |
|
class warfare. Bodies fall in the street. Bodies fall from the Armory. The |
|
building is under siege by the main unit of the MILITIA and by Bill the |
|
Butcher and the Natives. The Dead Rabbits are trapped. |
|
|
|
Johnny SNAKES through the Native American lines, over dead bodies, moving |
|
towards Bill, who he sees a hundred yards away... |
|
|
|
... running over corpses of comrades and enemies toward the MILITIA |
|
COMMADER. As SHOT WIDENS, the carnage is revealed. Bodies of Natives, in |
|
their uniform dusters, and Rabbits, in their tamlas, lie side by side in |
|
the street. |
|
|
|
120 CONTINUED: |
|
|
|
FIRING continues from both sides as the Butcher shouts at the Militia |
|
Commander. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
We move now and we can drive them out! We press them and they'll break! |
|
|
|
MILITIA COMMANDER |
|
I can't spare the men or stand the risk! We stay fast and smoke lem out! |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Tweed put me in charge of this! I say we move, and by the crucified Christ |
|
we will move! |
|
(turns to his men) |
|
Native Americans, come with me! Any militia that wants to live upright |
|
instead of die hunkered down, come with us! |
|
|
|
Bill STALKS through the lines, rallying the men. And Johnny starts to |
|
FOLLOW. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
We'll show you gladiators' greatness! Come on! |
|
|
|
The men start to JOIN the Butcher; even some militia fall in. Johnny SLIPS |
|
through the men gathering near the Butcher. He's closer to Bill than ever. |
|
|
|
Bill starts to mount their BARRICADE. There is MOVEMENT and commotion all |
|
around him as Natives and militia fall into rough formation. It threatens |
|
to obscure Bill from Johnny's view. Shield him. |
|
|
|
He has to make his move. NOW. He DRAWS a revolver as militia and Natives |
|
pass in front of him... he AIMS ... he's anxious, confused ... his HAND |
|
shakes ... he fires... too soon! ... |
|
|
|
... and HITS a Native, who falls dead. Right near Bill. |
|
|
|
The Butcher turns in the direction of the shot, SEES Johnny. Their eyes |
|
lock. Johnny FIRES again ... WINGS Bill ... |
|
|
|
... and Bill SHOOTS him. Johnny FALLS with the first shot. Bill's above |
|
him now, looking down at him. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Was it Tweed or your friend put you to this? |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
Tweed. |
|
|
|
Bill SHOOTS him again, point blank. Johnny screams. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You'd lie to save your friend. |
|
|
|
JOHNNY |
|
(in terrible pain) |
|
No. There's no friends for me. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Me the same. Pity us both. |
|
|
|
He EMPTIES his revolver into Johnny. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
(to his men) |
|
Hold your fire! |
|
(toward the Armory) |
|
In there! Hey in there! I want to talk to Amsterdam! |
|
|
|
The Militia Commander is aghast at this proposition and starts forward, |
|
gun in hand. But a Native STOPS him. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam's face APPEARS in a front window of the Armory. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Go on, then, talk. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You and me. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(beat) |
|
Come ahead then. And bring my friend's body. |
|
|
|
Bill the Butcher SLINGS Johnny's body over his shoulder as easily as if it |
|
were an empty sack of flour... |
|
|
|
... and starts walking thraugh the lines toward the Armory. The Militia |
|
watches in disbelief, the Natives in confusion. The Dead Rabbits keep the |
|
Butcher in their sights. But no one fires. No one moves. |
|
|
|
And Bill the Butcher enters the front doors of the Armory. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
121 INT. ARMORY DAY |
|
|
|
As the Butcher is admitted through the huge doors which clang SHUT quickly |
|
behind him. It's a scene of devastation inside-dozens of dead and wounded |
|
everywhere. And enough rifles and munitions to sink Manhattan island. |
|
|
|
Bill the Butcher stands dead center in the middle of the Armory floor as |
|
Amsterdam walks toward him. The Butcher DROPS Johnny's body in a heap at |
|
his feet. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Your friend made different friends lately. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Tammany's put us all in the same place. You want to get out alive? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
It don't matter to me. I got enemies outside, enemies in here. The militia |
|
can move on me anytime. You could drop me before I get to the door. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I don't want to lose you so easy. You'll never get past the militia unless |
|
you come with the Dead Rabbits. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
You'd lay aside what's between us? |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
I'm not forgetting where I put it. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
If you do, I'll remind you. |
|
(he turns, leaves) |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
What's your call, Bill? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
I'm considering where's my better chance. |
|
|
|
He walks to the doors. The Rabbits guarding it don't make a move. He OPENS |
|
it himself and strides out into the street. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
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|
|
122 EXT./INT. ARMORY DAY |
|
|
|
Bill walks alone toward the Native/militia lines. |
|
|
|
From inside... from every window ... the Dead Rabbits watch him. |
|
|
|
The sun is high, but the street is eerily quiet. There are FARAWAY SOUNDS |
|
of battle, but here there is only the sound of distant, unheard |
|
conversation between Bill, the Militia Commander and some Natives. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam WATCHES intently. |
|
|
|
The Butcher and the Militia Commander argue, but we still can't hear what |
|
they're saying. There is still no sound... |
|
|
|
... until, SUDDENLY, we see the Militia Commander's face. Huge. EYES WIDE |
|
with surprise as we HEAR the thunderclap of a SHOT. |
|
|
|
Bill the Butcher has just gutshot the Militia Commander. |
|
|
|
As if the shot were a signal, the Natives TURN on the militia. It's |
|
hellish, close-quarter combat. Guns fired inches from enemies who had just |
|
been allies. Knives, swords, bludgeons, kids with dead-rat blackjacks, |
|
women with hob-nailed wooden planks, attacking better-armed but totally |
|
stunned soldiers. |
|
|
|
Bill the Butcher falls back toward the Armory, the Natives following him. |
|
|
|
Inside the Armory, Amsterdam turns to his own greatly diminished gang. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Go ahead them, give them cover! Give them some damn cover! |
|
|
|
The Rabbits are so stunned to be fighting on the same side as their sworn |
|
enemies that, even with Amsterdam's order, no one makes a move. It's |
|
Amsterdam who FIRES the first shots. And that unleashes a great VOLLEY |
|
from the Armory... |
|
|
|
... toward the militia. |
|
|
|
The Butcher and the Natives are closer to the Armory now... and the Armory |
|
doors start to open... |
|
|
|
... when a MILITIA LIEUTENANT SIGNALS ... |
|
|
|
... and MILITIA on the surrounding roofs, waiting for this moment, |
|
suddenly open fire...on the Natives below and on the Rabbits on the roof |
|
of the armory. Many drop in the street and fall from the Armory roof... |
|
|
|
... as the Armory doors SWING WIDE to admit the Natives. As they run or |
|
stagger inside, the Rabbits start to close the doors. Some Rabbits are cut |
|
down by the fire from the rooftops. Other Natives never make it to the |
|
doors. And a few are shot... |
|
|
|
... when the doors close before they can get through. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
123 INT./EXT. ARMORY DAY |
|
|
|
The Dead Rabbits keep firing, but they have sustained grave losses. The |
|
Butcher looks around at the Natives who have made it inside with him: he |
|
has perhaps one-quarter of his original strength. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Well, it seems like between us we got two mobs that might make a gang. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Whose gang might it be? |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Not William Tweed's. |
|
|
|
Jimmy Spoils and a crew of Natives PUSH a cannon toward the rear of the |
|
Armory. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Which way you pointing that? |
|
|
|
JIMMY SPOILS |
|
Any way you say. One direction could let us out, the other will let them |
|
in. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
They got to come in if we're going to fight them. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Who do you want to fight, Bill? |
|
|
|
Amsterdam MOTIONS toward the rear wall and Jimmy swings the cannon around. |
|
|
|
Everything surrounding them is MOVEMENT and COMMOTION as the remaining |
|
members of both gangs TAKE whatever weapons they can carry from the Armory |
|
stockpile... |
|
|
|
... and Jenny steps forward with a torch, LIGHTING the fuse of the |
|
cannon... |
|
|
|
... which ROARS and BLOWS a huge hole in the rear wall of the Armory. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
(to Bill the Butcher) |
|
See you in the street. |
|
|
|
The gang members RUSH for the opening, carrying whatever they can manage. |
|
|
|
Outside, the MILITIA LIEUTENANT hears the cannon blast... sees no damage |
|
to the front of the building... and SIGNALS for a frontal ASSAULT on the |
|
Armory. |
|
|
|
HIGH ANGLE FROM ABOVE, CAMERA MOVING as the militia CHARGES ... following |
|
them forward, then moving ahead to the Armory |
|
|
|
... SHOOTING straight down inside (no roof or ceiling) as the Gangs HURTLE |
|
through the still-smoldering hole in the wall ... |
|
|
|
... and drop twenty feet to an alley below... |
|
|
|
... where militia on the roof try to pick them off. As the militia presses |
|
closer from the front, gang defenses start to fall back inside the Armory. |
|
Everyone wants to get through that hole. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam, Jenny, Jimmy Spoils and some of the other gang nembers are |
|
carrying TORCHES. Jenny HANDS a torch to the Butcher. Amsterdam MOTIONS |
|
them all toward the back of the Armory. |
|
|
|
But he stays behind. Just for a moment. He BENDS over the crumpled body of |
|
Johnny Sirocco, ARRANGES it, folding JOHNNY'S HANDS across his chest. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
You'll have a warrior's funeral anyway, John. |
|
|
|
He STANDS and RUNS for the hole in the wall, where Jenny and the others |
|
stand waiting. |
|
|
|
He TURNS, takes a last look inside the Armory. The militia is BATTERING |
|
DOWN the front doors. Then he raises his TORCH over his head... and HURLS |
|
it through the air. Jenny and the others do the same. |
|
|
|
His single torch BLAZES a path of light across the screen. The others, |
|
JOINING it, make a fiery CONSTELLATION. |
|
|
|
CUT TO |
|
|
|
124 EXT. REAR OF ARMORY/STREETS BEHIND ARMORY DAY |
|
|
|
As Jenny, Jimmy Spoils, Bill the Butcher and Amsterdam HURTLE through the |
|
hole into the alley below... |
|
|
|
... and start to run through the withering GUNFIRE of the militia on the |
|
roof... |
|
|
|
... getting away... just barely away. |
|
|
|
As Jenny runs, her swag drops and FALLS from under her clothes. She TURNS |
|
to pick it up but Amsterdam PULLS her on.... |
|
|
|
... and just away from the titanic EXPLOSION of the Armory. The CONCUSSION |
|
throws some of the militia from their perches on the roof. It sends a |
|
fountain of FLAME and RUBBLE high into the sky. It is VOLCANIC in its |
|
brilliance and intensity. The sky turns BLACK with powder, BLAZING ORANGE |
|
with flame. |
|
|
|
In the small streets BEHIND THE ARMORY, many gang members are CRUSHED by |
|
debris or burned by FIREBALLS breaking off from the central flame. |
|
|
|
The Armory is gone. Much of the surrounding area is gone with it. |
|
|
|
On the ground, everything is smoke, flame, dirt, death, confusion, Corpses |
|
everywhere. Gang members and kids running all over, desperate. It looks |
|
like the last day of mankind on earth. |
|
|
|
Bill the Butcher HELPS a couple of fallen Natives, then SEES through the |
|
smoke and flame and storm of ash ... Amsterdam. |
|
Coming towards him. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
We're finished, all of us. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
But you and me ain't settled. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
We got the same now, a full share of nothing. There's nothing to settle. |
|
There's nothing left. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam takes a weapon from his pocket, OPENS it for the Butcher to see: |
|
it is the pirate's knife which the Butcher used to kill Priest Vallon. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Then let's start over. |
|
|
|
Bill the Butcher looks tired, sorrowful. He BURIES his face wearily in his |
|
arms. And for a moment we think he has given everything up. Amsterdam |
|
MOVES toward him, through the smoke. The Butcher does not even look at |
|
him. Of all the things he could do, this is the one that Amsterdam could |
|
not anticipate and does not know how to reckon. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Look at me. Look at me! |
|
|
|
But the Butcher will not obey. Amsterdam HESITATES. |
|
|
|
And it's at that moment the Butcher LOOKS UP... in a FLASH... a pistol in |
|
his hand, a grin of triumph on his face... and shoots. Amsterdam goes down. |
|
|
|
The Butcher THROWS ASIDE his gun and takes out his CLEAVER... walking |
|
through the smoke ... |
|
|
|
... and past gang members who FLEE the explosion around them... toward |
|
Amsterdam. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Don't look away, Amsterdam. You wanted this so long. |
|
|
|
A HAZE of ash and gunpowder BLOWS across the Butcher's face, making him |
|
look like a phantom... but making the ground where Amsterdam lies |
|
indistinct. For just a second. |
|
|
|
But time enough. A WOODEN PLANK filled with NAILS cuts through the haze, |
|
catching the Butcher across the middle. He goes down howling... |
|
|
|
... and Amsterdam, wounded in the leg, kneels before him. Then SPRINGS at |
|
him, pinning him like some crazed lover. The CLEAVER flies from the |
|
Butcherls grip. |
|
|
|
The two men STRUGGLE desperately. But the gang members FLEEING around them |
|
pay no attention. This great epic combat, this tremendous blood feud, has |
|
been reduced to its essence: it is a street fight. But a street fight to |
|
the death. |
|
|
|
WE WATCH Amsterdam and the Butcher struggle from street level, the fight |
|
often obscured by the legs and feet of the gang members RUSHING past. |
|
These two ancient antagonists could be anyone. Anyone at all. |
|
|
|
The Butcher is atop Amsterdam now, iron hand? at his throat...as |
|
Amsterdam's hand rises, holding the pirate's knife... searching for the |
|
strength ... and the place... for one final blow ... the Butcher's fingers |
|
TIGHTEN ... Amsterdam's hand moves ... and the pirate's knife DRIVES HOME |
|
right into the Butcher's stomach: the belly of the beast. |
|
|
|
The Butcher bellows. Amsterdam FLIPS him over, starts to SLIT him up the |
|
front, but the knife cannot cut the pelvic bone. Amsterdam puts his knee |
|
on the Butcher's throat, PINNING HIM. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Don't look away. |
|
|
|
And he SLAPS his hand over the Butcher's one good eye, so he can't see the |
|
death blow, EXTRACTS the knife...and PLUNGES it like a stake into the |
|
Butcher's heart. |
|
|
|
He takes his hand away. All the Butcher can see is Amsterdam's face as his |
|
EYE starts to roll back in his head at the approach of death. |
|
|
|
BILL THE BUTCHER |
|
Thank... thank God I died a true American. |
|
|
|
And he dies. There is no triumph in Amsterdam's face. Only pain, and |
|
satiation. He SEES: the CLEAVER, on the ground a few yards from him. And |
|
Jenny, staring at him. Amsterdam GESTURES for the cleaver. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
(quietly) |
|
Get it yourself. |
|
|
|
Amsterdam tries to get up. He can't. So he CRAWLS through the mud... for |
|
the cleaver. Grabs it. |
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO |
|
|
|
125 EXT. CEMETERY DAY |
|
|
|
The headstone of Priest Vallon. Now it has an inscription, which Amsterdam |
|
is finishing. He uses the handle of the Butcher's cleaver for a hammer, |
|
the blade of the piratels knife as a chisel. WE SEE the inscription: |
|
"Priest Vallon/ 1814-1844/ New York City... of |
|
|
|
The blade BREAKS on the final letter. Amsterdam sits back an the ground |
|
near the grave. Behind him across the river (MATTE), the fires of the |
|
riots still burn. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
You'll have to come back to finish. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Maybe I'll leave it. |
|
(beat) |
|
Are you leaving? |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
I'm going west. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Well wherever you go, you got to go back through the city. so we're going |
|
the same way for a while. |
|
|
|
He starts to STAND, STUMBLES to one knee. |
|
|
|
AMSTERDAM |
|
Help me, will you? |
|
|
|
She looks at him... a lingering moment ... then goes to him. |
|
|
|
JENNY |
|
Give me your hand. |
|
|
|
She HELPS him up, puts his arm over her shoulder... and they start to walk |
|
away together through the graveyard toward the burning island beyond. |
|
|
|
The CAMERA pulls back.... and as Amsterdam and Jenny WALK AWAY the SKYLINE |
|
OF NEW YORK starts to take shape before us. TOWERS of steel and concrete |
|
start to rise. |
|
|
|
As the SUN begins to descend, we see, in outline, the familiar |
|
contemporary SKYLINE of New York. As the SUN FALLS, the outline of the |
|
city becomes grander still, until, in the late afternoon light, it gives |
|
off an almost SPECTRAL GLOW... |
|
|
|
... which SHINES for a last moment on the now-aged headstone of Priest |
|
Vallon, its inscription unfinished. |
|
|
|
As, in the distance, the sun SETS an New York and the city grows still and |
|
black in the wash of impenetrable darkness. |
|
|
|
THE END. |