Raising Arizona

REVERSE
 

As Hi pulls the carton in and slams his door shut. Crane up in the car speeding away.

TRAILER LIVING ROOM

As Ed bursts in the front door, holding Nathan Jr.

ED
You two are leaving.

ON GALE AND EVELLE

They look up, dumbstruck and mortified, from the sofa where the have been watching TV.

ED

Tomorrow morning. Now I got nothing against you personally...

Gale and Evelle look appealingly toward Hi, who shifts uncomfortably behind Ed.

ED
... but you're wanted by the authorities and you're a bad influence in this household, in my opinion.

GALE

Well ma'am... we sure didn't mean to influence anyone.

EVELLE

And if we did, we apologize.

Ed is unmoved.

ED

I'm goin' in to town tomorrow to see about some shots for the baby. When I come back you better be gone or I'll kick you out myself.

She storms into the bedroom and slams the door.

There is an awkward silence as Gale studies his thumb and Evelle stares at the ceiling. Finally Evelle turns to Hi .

EVELLE
... What's he need, his dip-tet?

HI

I'm awful sorry boys, but when Ed gets mad, you know, when she gets an idea...

GALE

Well there ain't a thing to apologize for, H.I...

He looks at Evelle.

GALE
... It seems pretty clear what the situation is here.

EVELLE

Yeah, I guess the Missus wants us to clear out.

GALE

Now H.I., you'll pardon me for sayin' so, but I get the feelin' that this-here...

His gesture seems to take in the trailer and the entire domestic situation.

GALE

... ain't exactly workin' out.

HI

Well now Ed's generally a real sweetheart, I –

GALE

And as per usual, I wouldn't be surprised if the source of the marital friction was financial.

HI

Well, matter of fact, I did lose my job today –

EVELLE

Come on Hi. you're young, you got your health – what do you want with a job?

GALE

But look, I'd rather light a candle than curse your darkness. As you know, Evelle'n I never go anywhere without a reason... and here we are in your little domicile. We come to invite you in on a score.

EVELLE

A bank, Hi.

Hi is shaking his head.

HI

Aw boys, I don't –

GALE

I know you're partial to convenience stores but, H.I., the sun don't rise and set on the comer grocery.

EVELLE

It's like Doc Schwartz says: You gotta have a little ambition. Why we just heard on the news how somebody snatched off one of the Arizona babies. Now there's someone thinkin' big.

GALE

And here you are sittin' around on your butt playin' house with a – don't get me wrong, H.I., with a fine woman – but a woman who needs the button-down type.

HI

Well now that ain't really any of your –

GALE

Just lookahere...

He is handing Hi a folded-up picture.

EVELLE

Picture of El Dorado, Hi.

GALE

Though the locals call it the Farmers and Mechanics Bank of LaGrange. Looks like a hayseed bank and, tell you the truth, it is a hayseed bank. Except the last Friday of every financial quarter there's more cash in that bank than flies at a barbecue.

EVELLE

And guess what day it is tomorrow?

GALE

Ya see, H.I., it's when the hayseeds come in to cash their farm subsidy checks.

EVELLE

A-One information.

GALE

Got it in the joint from a guy named Lawrence Spivey, one of Dick Nixon's undersecretaties of agriculture.

EVELLE

He's in for sohcitin' sex from a state trooper.

GALE

Ordinarily we don't associate with that class of person, but...

Gale chuckles.

GALE
... he was tryin' to make brownie points with some of the boys.

HI

Boys, I can't –

EVIELLE

We need someone handy with a scatter-gun to cover the hayseeds while we get the cash.

GALE

Y'understand, H.I., if this works out it's just the beginning of a spree across the entire Southwest proper. We keep goin' tffl we can retire – or we get caught.

EVELLE

Either way we're fixed for life.

Hi is still shaking his head.

HI

Boys, it's a kind offer, but you're suggesting I just up'n leave Ed. Now that'd be pretty damn cowardly, wouldn't it.

GALE

Would it? Think about it, H.I. Seems to me, stayin' here, yain't doin' her any good. And y'ain't bein' true to your own nature.

The camera has floated in to a close shot of Hi, staring glumly at GALE.

TRACKING ON MOTORCYCLE NIGHT

Following it, very close, we see only its rear wheel and fender and twin exhaust pipes, one on either side. Flame is boiling in each exhaust pipe as the hog roars.

HIGHER TRACKING SHOT

From behind the Biker's head as he rides through the night. With the sharp whipcrack effect he suddenly looks left, searching. With a second whipcrack effect he suddenly looks right, still searching.

He banks into a turn.

EXT. TRAILER

Creeping in. Late at night. We are tracking in toward the one window that is illuminated, with a feeble yellow light.

In voice-over, Hi is composing a letter.

VOICE OVER
My dearest Edwinna. Tonight as you and Nathan slumber, my heart is filled with anguish.

DISSOLVE THROUGH TO:

INT. TRAILER

Creeping in on Hi 's hunched back, as he sits over the kitchen table writing the letter. The yellow lamp sitting on the table is the only light on in the trailer.

VOICE OVER

... I hope that you will both understand, and forgive me for what I have decided I must do. By the time you read this, I will be gone.

DISSOLVE THROUGH TO:

LIVING ROOM

Creeping in on GALE and EVELLE, sprawled on the sofa and easy chair respectively, sawing boards.

VOICE OVER

... I will never be the man that you want me to be, the husband and father that you and Nathan deserve...

DISSOLVE THROUGH TO:

BACK TO HI

Still creeping in.

VOICE OVER

Maybe it's my upbringing; maybe it's just that my genes got screwed up – I don't know...

DISSOLVE THROUGH TO:

INT. 7-ELEVEN

Creeping in on the pimply-faced Cashier, sitting asleep behind the counter, a dirty magazine lying face-down, open on his chest.

VOICE OVER

But the events of the last day have showed, amply, that I don't have the strength of character to raise up a family...

We are slowly panning over to the newspaper rack, revealing tomorrow's headline: "WHERE IS NATHAN JR.?"
 

VOICE OVER

... in the manner befitting a responsible adult, and not like the wild man from Borneo.

DISSOLVE THROUGH TO:

ARIZONA HOME
 

Creeping in on Nathan Jr. in the living room, asleep in his ottoman armchair, lit only by the snow from the TV set he is facing, a half-full glass of milk on the coffee table next to him.

His robe is disheveled; his eyeglasses have slid down his nose.

VOICE OVER

... I say all this to my shame.

DISSOLVE THROUGH TO:

TRAILER BEDROOM

Creeping in on Ed and Nathan Jr., asleep together in the double bed. Ed's arm is draped protectively over the sleeping infant.

VOICE OVER
... I will love you always, truly and deeply. But I fear that if I stay I would only bring bad trouble...

We start to hear the rumble of the motorcycle mix up again.

VOICE OVER

... on the heads of you and Nathan Jr.

DISSOLVE THROUGH TO:

BLACKNESS

Night sky. The motorcycle tire enters frame as the bike comes to a halt. The Biker plants a jackbooted foot in the foreground.

The engine rumbles.

VOICE OVER
I feel the thunder gathering even now; if I leave, hopefully, it will leave with me.

We are craning up over the Biker's back to reveal what he is looking at: We are on a bluff overlooking the trailer park. In the window of one trailer below, a yellow light glows.

VOICE OVER
I cannot tarry...

DISSOLVE THROUGH TO:

BACK TO HI

Still creeping in.

VOICE OVER

Better I should go, send you money, and let you curse my name. Your loving... Herbert.

FADE OUT

FIRE

Roaring at the cut. Through it we can see the Biker sitting on the ground, legs stretched out in front of him, back resting against his parked motorcycle, arms folded across his chest.

Perfectly motionless, he stares at the campfire.

We are floating in toward him.

As we come closer, eventually drawing in to a close shot of his face, we gradually realize something peculiar about his eyes: He seems to have none. Although his eyes are unblinkingly open we do not see eyeballs, but only fire – either a reflection of the campfire or something roaring – burning-inside.

CLOSE SHOT DOOR MAT

It reads: "Come On In! To Unpainted Arizona."

The smoking butt of a cheroot is dropped onto the mat. A jackbooted foot grinds it out.

CLOSE SHOT BAR ON GLASS DOOR

Leading into the showroom. The Biker's mail-and-chained fist pushes the door open.

LOW WIDE TRACKING SHOT

Behind the jackboots as they stroll through a showroom of unpainted furniture and bathroom fixtures.

TRACKING ON THE MAILED HAND

Swinging as he walks, the Biker's hand produces a fresh cheroot from no apparent source-either sleight-of-hand or magic.

THE OTHER HAND

Similarly producing a long wooden match.

DISCOLORED TEETH

Biting down on the cigar.

HAND

Dragging the kitchen match along the unfinished wood surface of an expensive bureau, leaving an ugly black scar.

The match erupts into roaring flame.

CIGAR

Crackling as it is lit.

DOOR

Reading "Executive Offices." The mailed fist pushes it open.

PEBBLED GLASS DOOR

From the inside of the office. The name on the pebbled glass is a backwards Nathan Arizona.

There is the shadow of a man approaching the door, and muffled voices.

SECRETARY'S VOICE
I'm sorry, Mr. Arizona, he just barged in...

The door swings open and Nathan stands looking in, his middle-aged secretary hanging at his elbow.

SECRETARY'S VOICE
... Should I call Dewayne?

Nathan is staring toward his desk.

NATHAN
Hell no, why wake the security guard. I'll take care a this.

The secretary leaves.

NATHAN'S POV

The Biker sits with his back to us, jackboots propped lazily on the desk.

His head bobs and ducks, as if he is following some movement in the air in front of him.

BACK TO NATHAN

Eyes on the Biker he slams the door shut behind him, looking for some reaction.

BIKER

No reaction. His head continues to bob and duck.

BACK TO NATHAN

Circling the Biker as he crosses to sit behind his desk.

HIS POV

Arcing around to reveal the Biker's face. He still does not react to Nathan, not even bothering to give him a glance.

His eyes continue to follow some phantom movement.

When the Biker speaks it is still without looking at Nathan, and with a surprisingly soft voice and mild, unhurried manner:

BIKER

You got flies.

He finally looks at Nathan, and smiles faintly.

NATHAN
I doubt it. This place's climate-controlled, all the windows are sealed. Who the hell are you?

BIKER

Name of Leonard Smalls. My friends call me Lenny...

He takes a drag on his cigar.

BIKER

... Only I ain't got no friends.

NATHAN

Stop, you'll make me bust out crying. Listen Leonard, you want some furniture or a shitbox, they're out on the sales floor.

SMALLS is pleasantly shaking his head.

SMALLS

Nooo, I ain't a customer, I'm a manhunter. Ordinarily. Though I do hunt babies, on occasion. Hear you got one you can't put your hand to.

NATHAN

What do you know about it?

SMALLS

Wal, that's my business. I'm a tracker-part Hopi Indian, some say part hound dog. When some dink skips bafl, crushes outta the joint, I'm the man they call.

NATHAN

Mister, I got the cops, the state troopers and the Federal-B-I already lookin' for my boy. Now if you got information I strongly advise –

SMALLS

Cop won't find your boy. Cop couldn't find his own butt if it had a bell on it. Wanna find an outlaw, call an outlaw. Wanna find a Dunkin Donuts, call a cop.

NATHAN

Smalls, first off, take your damn feet off m'furniture. Second off, it's widely known I posted a twenty grand reward for my boy. If you can find him, claim it. Short of that what do we got to talk about?

SMALLS

Price. Fair price. And that ain't whatever you say it is; fair price is what the market'fl bear. Now there are people, mind you, there are people in this land, who'll pay a lot more'n twenty grand for a healthy baby.

Nathan is looking at him stonily.

NATHAN
What're you after?

SMALLS

Give you an idea, when I was a lad I m'self fetched twenty-five thousand on the black market. And them's 1954 dollars. I'm sayin, fair price. For fifty grand I'll track him, find him –

Quick as a flash the heretofore languid Smalls bolts forward, his fist stopped an inch short of Nathan's nose.

EXTREME CLOSE SHOT SMALLS' FINGERS