Network

INT. NIGHTLY NEWS ROOM

ACROSS Harry Hunter on phone, looking through the open door of Howard's office to Howard at his desk in b.g.

HARRY HUNTER

(on phone)

– I think it'll take the strain off the show, Max. How much time do you want, Howard?

HOWARD

(in b.g., on phone)

A minute forty-five, maybe two

HARRY HUNTER

All right, I'll give you two on the top, then we'll go to Jack Snowden with the Kissinger UN speech –

INT. SCREENING ROOM 7

The show is over, the room lights are on. In b.g., Diana and Herron stand, murmur to each other –

MAX

(on phone)

And no booze today, Howard –

In b.g., Diana and Herron move for the door, wave good-byes. Max waves slackly in return. He can't help noticing as Diana leaves that she has the most beautiful ass ever seen on a VP Programs –

INT. HOWARD'S OFFICE

HOWARD

(on phone)

No booze –

And hangs up. For a moment, he just sits, scowling and making curious little grimaces. Then he stands, removes his jacket, dumps it on a chair. He rolls his sleeves up and suddenly makes a strange little GRUNT. He sits behind his desk, fits a piece of paper into the machine and then, again, suddenly, he makes a strange little GROWL –

INT. NIGHTLY NEWS ROOM

Our Production Assistant, remembered perhaps from the control room scene, passes Howard's open door and is given pause by the strange little noises coming from Howard's office. She stands in the doorway a moment watching Howard GRUNTING, GROWLING and Snarling as he Clacks away at the typewriter –

PRODUCTION ASSISTANT

You all right, Mr. Beale?

(Beale nods)

You want me to close your door, Mr. Beale?

(Howard nods, types away, GRUNTS, GROWLS)

The Production Assistant closes the door.

INT. 14TH FLOOR – UBS BUILDING – ELEVATOR AREA

Diana and Herron come out of one of the elevators and turn left to the glass doors marked: "DEPARTMENT OF PROGRAMMING". They continue into –

INT. PROGRAMMING DEPARTMENT – RECEPTION AREA

(Needless to say, there is no one at the receptionist's desk.) Diana and Herron head down –

INT. PROGRAMMING DEPARTMENT – CORRIDOR

Diana pauses en route to lean into one of the offices –

DIANA

George, can you come in my office for a minute?

She and Herron continue on, turn into –

INT. PROGRAMMING DEPARTMENT – COMMON ROOM

Where the SECRETARIES are all slaving away, reading magazines and chatting among themselves. An occasional PHONE RINGS. At the far end of the room, a chunky WOMAN in her late 30's is instructing her SECRETARY in something. Diana hails her –

DIANA

Barbara, is Tommy around anywhere?
 

BARBARA

(in b.g.)

I think so.

DIANA

I'd like to see the two of you for a moment –

She leads Herron now into –

INT. DIANA'S SECRETARY'S OFFICE

The Secretary hands a sheaf of telephone messages to Diana which she carries with her into –

INT. DIANA'S OFFICE

Diana enters, followed by Herron. She sits, skims through her messages. The office is executive-size, windows looking out on the canyons of glass and stone skyscrapers on Sixth Avenue, desk piled high with scripts. GEORGE BOSCH (VP Program Development East Coast), a slight, balding man of 39, enters the office, nods to Herron, takes a seat; and is immediately followed by BARBARA SCHLESINGER (Head of the Story Department), the chunky lady just called in by Diana, and TOMMY PELLEGRINO (Assistant VP Programs), 36, swarthy, coifed and mustachioed. They find seats on the chairs, the small couch. Herron remains standing –

DIANA

(introducing)

This is Bill Herron from our West Coast Special Programs Department – Barbara Schlesinger – George Bosch – Tommy Pellegrino – Look, I just saw some rough footage of a special Bill's doing on the revolutionary underground. Most of it's tedious stuff of Laureen Hobbs and four fatigue jackets muttering mutilated Marxism. But he's got about eight minutes of a bank robbery that is absolutely sensational. Authentic stuff. Actually shot while the robbery was going on. Remember the Mary Ann Gifford kidnapping? Well, it's that bunch of nuts. She's in the film shooting off machine guns. Really terrific footage. I think we can get a hell of a movie of the week out of it, maybe even a series.

PELLEGRINO

A series out of what? What're we talking about?

DIANA

Look, we've got a bunch of hobgoblin radicals called the Ecumenical Liberation Army who go around taking home movies of themselves robbing banks. Maybe they'll take movies of themselves kidnapping heiresses, hijacking 747's, bombing bridges, assassinating ambassadors. We'd open each week's segment with that authentic footage, hire a couple of writers to write some story behind that footage, and we've got ourselves a series.

BOSCH

A series about a bunch of bank-robbing guerillas?

SCHLESINGER

What're we going to call it – the Mao Tse Tung Hour?

DIANA

Why not? They've got Strike Force, Task Force, SWAT – why not Che Guevara and his own little mod squad? Listen, I sent you all a concept analysis report yesterday. Did any of you read it?

(apparently not)

Well, in a nutshell, it said the American people are turning sullen. They've been clobbered on all sides by Vietnam, Watergate, the inflation, the depression. They've turned off, shot up, and they've fucked themselves limp. And nothing helps. Evil still triumphs over all, Christ is a dope-dealing pimp, even sin turned out to be impotent. The whole world seems to be going nuts and flipping off into space like an abandoned balloon. So – this concept analysis report concludes – the American people want somebody to articulate their rage for them. I've been telling you people since I took this job six months ago that I want angry shows. I don't want conventional programming on this network. I want counter-culture. I want anti-establishment.

She closes the door.

DIANA

Now, I don't want to play butch boss with you people. But when I took over this department, it had the worst programming record in television history. This network hasn't one show in the top twenty. This network is an industry joke. We better start putting together one winner for next September. I want a show developed, based on the activities of a terrorist group. Joseph Stalin and his merry band of Bolsheviks. I want ideas from you people. And, by the way, the next time I send an audience research report around, you all better read it, or I'll sack the fucking lot of you, is that clear?

(apparently, it is, she turns to Herron)

I'll be out on the coast in four weeks. Can you set up a meeting with Laureen Hobbs for me?

HERRON

Sure.

INT. A BANQUET ROOM – NEW YORK HILTON – WEDNESDAY – 3:00 P.M.

LONG SHOT. A stockholders' meeting. Standing room only. Some 200 STOCKHOLDERS seated in the audience; others standing around the walls. On the rostrum, a phalanx of UBS CORPORATE EXECUTIVES, seated in three rows, including EDWARD RUDDY, Chairman of the Board, the PRESIDENTS and SENIOR VICE-PRESIDENTS of the other divisions and other groups – the UBS Records Group, the UBS Publishing Group, the UBS Theater Chain, etc. Representing the network are Nelson Chaney and the divisional heads – GEORGE NICHOLS, President of the Radio Division; NORMAN MOLDANIAN, President Owned Stations; General Counsel WALTER AMUNDSEN, and, of course, Max Schumacher, President of the News Division. Frank Hackett, Senior Executive Vice President UBS-TV, is at the lectern making the annual report –

HACKETT

(in the droning manner of such reports)

... but the business of management is management; and, at the time C. C. and A. took control, the UBS-TV network was foundering with less than seven percent of national television revenues, most network programs being sold at station rates. I am therefore pleased to announce I am submitting to the Board of Directors a plan for the coordination of the main profit centers, and with the specific intention of making each division more responsive to management –

ANOTHER ANGLE SINGLING OUT Max Schumacher in the second row of the phalanx of EXECUTIVES, bored with the proceedings, and whispering to Nelson Chaney seated beside him. INCLUDE in frame the 67 year old, silver-haired Brahmin of television, Edward Ruddy, who is seated in the front row. Hackett in b.g. It is some twenty minutes later –

HACKETT

(reading from his report)

... point one. The division producing the lowest rate of return has been the News Division –

Max suddenly begins paying attention –

HACKETT

– with its 98 million dollar budget and its average annual deficit of 32 million. To me, it is inconceivable such a wanton fiscal affront go unresisted –

ANOTHER ANGLE ACROSS Hackett with a smoldering Max Schumacher in b.g. –

HACKETT
– The new plan calls for local news to be transferred to Owned Stations Divisions –

Max in b.g., stares angrily down his row towards Norman Moldanian, who studiously avoids his eye –

HACKETT

– News-Radio would be transferred to the UBS Radio Division –

ACROSS Max turning in his seat to scowl at George Nichols in the row behind him –

HACKETT

(in b.g.)

– and, in effect, the News Division would be reduced –

Max leaning forward trying to catch the eye of Edward Ruddy in the front row. Ruddy is staring stonily ahead –

HACKETT

– from an independent division to a department accountable to network –

Max is about ready to blow his stack –

INT. BANQUET ROOM – NEW YORK HILTON – WEDNESDAY – 5:30 PM.

The stockholders' meeting is over. The floor is a swirling CRUSH of STOCKHOLDERS mingling with EXECUTIVES. Max Schumacher is elbowing his way through the crowded aisle to get to where Edward Ruddy is chatting away with a COUPLE of STOCKHOLDERS –

MAX

(to Ruddy)

What was that all about, Ed? –

RUDDY

(turning to Max, urbane)

This is not the time, Max.

MAX

(barely containing himself)

Why wasn't I told about this? Why was I led onto that podium and publicly guillotined in front of the stockholders? Goddammit, I spoke to John Wheeler this morning, and he assured me the News Division was safe. Are you trying to get me to resign? It's a hell of a way to do it.

RUDDY

(silken murmur)

We'll talk about this tomorrow at our regular morning meeting.

Ruddy turns back to the clutch of Stockholders around him. Max wheels away in a rage –
 

EXT. NEW YORK HILTON HOTEL – SIXTH AVENUE – DUSK

The Sixth Avenue entrance to the hotel. Taxis pulling in, disgorging PEOPLE; taxis pulling out with new fares. MAX comes striding out of the hotel, sore as a boil. PAN HIM as he bulls his way through the line of taxis and across jammed, clanging 5:50 P.M. Sixth Avenue –

INT. UBS BUILDING – 5TH FLOOR CORRIDOR

Max, steaming, strides down the corridor to –

INT. ROOM 509 – NEWS DIV. EXECUTIVE OFFICES

Empty except for perhaps one SECRETARY pecking away at her typewriter. Max strides across and into –

INT. MAX'S OFFICE

Max takes off his jacket, throws it on the couch, sits behind his desk. But he's too steamed to stay there long. A moment later, he's up again, strides around, a caged lion. He thumps his desk angrily, strides around, then whips his jacket up from the couch and strides out –

INT. CONTROL ROOM – NETWORK NEWS SHOW

The wall CLOCK reads 6:28. The Director, Technical Director, Lighting Director and Production Assistant are at their long shelf in front of the double bank of television monitors. The Audio Man is off in his glassed-in cubicle. Harry Hunter and his Secretary and the Unit Manager are on the raised level in the back. Hunter is on the phone, looks up as the door to the control room opens, and MAX, carrying his jacket, comes in. Curious looks from the PERSONNEL here; presidents of news rarely come down to the control room. Hunter finishes his phone call, offers his seat to Max, but Max prefers standing in the back –

PRODUCTION ASSISTANT

... five seconds –

LIGHTING DIRECTOR

– picture's too thick –

DIRECTOR

– coming to – and one –

The show monitor, which has been showing color patterns, now suddenly flicks on to show Howard Beale as he looks up from the sheaf of papers on his desk and says:

HOWARD (ON MONITOR)

Good evening. Today is Wednesday, September the twenty-fourth, and this is my last broadcast. Yesterday, I announced on this program that I would commit public suicide, admittedly an act of madness. Well, I'll tell you what happened – I just ran out of bullshit –