RKO 281 Script
RKO 281 by John Logan
INT_LARGE, DARK ROOM_NIGHT
In the ebony shadows of a large room we can make out corners and edges,
moldings and cornices; the phantoms of decaying Victorian wealth
floating like disembodied ghosts in the darkness.
It is May 6, 1924 The harsh flare of a match being struck
A shadowy male figure lights a series of nine candles on a birthday
cake. Beyond the cake we can see a bed.
On the bed lies a woman in her early forties. She is ashen and sickly.
Dying.
The shadowy male figure finishes lighting the candles, blows out the
match and disappears as the woman peers into the darkness.
WOMAN
Come into the light.. Come into the light
A nine-year-old boy steps into the light.
She pulls him close and whispers:
WOMAN
Never stand in the shadows --
BOY
Mother...
WOMAN
You are made for the light, Orson Now you must blow
out your candles. But you must always remember, the
cake itself is nothing. The flame, the lights, that
is where your future lies. You must have a dream. A
great dream worthy of you.
The boy immediately spins to the cake and blows out the candles. A
moment of darkness. He turns back to the bed. The woman and the bed are
gone, faded into darkness.
The solemn young lad stares and stares into the darkness
And then, magically, the faint glimmer of twinkling stars fill his huge
dark eyes.
NEWSREEL The flickering images of an old newsreel, circa 1940
Under the MGM logo we see the title: BOY WONDER WOWS HOLLYWOOD!
The first image after the title is the imposing figure of ORSON WELLES,
climbing down from an airplane and surveying the world at his feet.
Welles is 24 years old and somewhat handsome. Welles seems rather
uncomfortable in his own body, as if it could not possibly contain his
vast passions and appetites.
Orson Welles is man who tears his way through life with incendiary
energy. He is at once inspiring and ferocious; visionary and coldly
ambitious. He is part artist, part fraud and all showman.
A sonorous voice accompanies the newsreel. The voice is always grand,
occasionally sardonic.
NEWSREEL VOICE
He came to the town of magic and dreams a flashing
star blazing through the firmament of illusion. And
he promised to devour the world in a single gulp. He
was 24 years old and his name was George Orson
Welles. Sound the trumpets! Unfurl the banners,
Hollywood! The Boy Wonder has arrived!
Images of Welles as a baby and his early life fill the screen: Welles
in a crib; as a pampered schoolboy; at dance class; drama club; dressed
up for a magic show. As we hear:
NEWSREEL VOICE
He made his debut on the world stage in Kenosha,
Wisconsin, on the 6th of May, 1915. And on the 7th
of May he spoke his first words, and unlike other
children who say commonplace things like "momma" and
"poppa", he proclaimed "I am a genius!"
At three the genius was reciting Shakespeare and at eight he had taken
up cigars and highballs and was learning magic from the knee of the
great Houdini.
Images of Welles’ early theatrical career: the young man playing
impossibly old parts; vaudeville magic shows; various regional
theaters; endless tawdry rehearsal rooms
Then images of Welles and JOHN HOUSEMAN in New York: the great,
bustling city; Welles at work with John Houseman on a script; Welles
directing a play. As we hear:
NEWSREEL VOICE
So how could the magic of the stage not call to
this adventurous lad? Unstoppable and resolute, the
Boy Wonder journeyed into the world of the legit
theater. After a peripatetic beginning he found
himself at last in New York where he joined forces
with theatrical producer John Houseman under the
august auspices of the WPA Federal Theater.
A rehearsal room interview with John Houseman, who is in his 30’s,
thin-lipped and prim:
HOUSEMAN
Orson barreled in and took over. Orson’s a real
barreler.
Images of Welles directing his famous "Fascist JULIUS CAESAR" and
"Voodoo MACBETH" productions: auditions; rehearsals; perfecting a
sword-fight; rejecting classical costume sketches for JULIUS CAESAR;
supervising set construction; performing Brutus in the Albert Speer-
like Nuremberg rally lighting of JULIUS CAESAR. As we hear:
NEWSREEL VOICE
Like Hannibal over the Alps, the Boy Genius invaded
the Great White Way. He stunned the sedate elite of
New York theatre with production after production.
From MACBETH with an entirely colored cast to a
Mussolini-inspired JULIUS CAESAR!
More images of New York, Welles, Houseman and radio: Welles directing a
radio play with sweeping energy; supervising the elaborate sound
effects; editing the script; at odds with Houseman. As we hear:
NEWSREEL VOICE
Though he wowed the critics with his spectaculars
the ticket sales left something to be desired. So,
after founding the Mercury Players with Houseman,
young Mr. Welles quickly set his sights on the
airwaves. He quickly became the sonorous -’ voice of
"The Shadow." ’’
Newsreel footage of Welles at a standing radio microphone;
WELLES
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The
Shadow knows. . .
Welles laughs his sinister Shadow laugh and we go to more images of
radio and the dynamic Welles performing and directing as we hear:
NEWSREEL VOICE
With Lament Cranston in one pocket and his own
radio show. The Mercury Theater of the Air, our Boy
Wonder filled the night with his resounding tones.
And on October 30th of 1938, he became what he felt
destined to be: a household name.
What started out as a roguish Halloween prank became the most famous
radio show in the history of the galaxy!
Images of the WAR OF THE WORLDS broadcast and panic: listeners huddling
next to their radios; telephone switchboards lighting up; New Jersey
State Motorcycle Troopers zooming down rural roads; cars clogging the
highways. As we hear:
NEWSREEL VOICE
THE WAR OF THE WORLDS sent this nation spinning
into a frenzy. Nine million listeners clasped their
loved ones close and looked to the skies with
horror. Unlucky listeners near the epicenter of the
"invasion" -- rural New Jersey -- ran screaming into
the night, sure a monstrous alien and a fiery death
awaited them around every corner! The mischievous
Boy Wonder had fooled us all!
Newsreel footage of a packed press conference with Welles the day
following the broadcast:
WELLES
(contritely)
Of course ... of course ... if I had known the
panic the broadcast was causing -- well I would have
stopped! I never meant for any of this to happen and
I feel just horrible!
Quick newsreel clips of Welles leaving the press conference with
Houseman. We see them slip into a taxi. Inside the taxi we can just
glimpse Welles exploding with laughter.
NEWSREEL VOICE
How long, oh how long could it possibly be before
the sunny land of dreams tried to harness the
combustible power of this showman, this impresario,
this best of all possible Boy Wonders?!
Images of Welles posing and shaking hands with GEORGE
SCHAEFER
Schaefer is an intense, compact man in his early 50’s. His nickname in
Hollywood is "The Tiger" -- both for his admired tenacity and his
feared temper. He is a moral and ethical man; John Adams in a Brooks
Brothers suit.
As we hear
NEWSREEL VOICE
The winner in the Welles derby was George Schaefer,
the head of RKO Pictures. With a contract
unimaginable before The Days Of Orson, Mr. Schaefer
captured the whirlwind snared the beast, roped the
tyrant!
Images of Welles and Schaefer: Welles signing his contract; smiling to
Schaefer; Schaefer making a speech; Welles joking with reporters. As we
hear:
NEWSREEL VOICE
Eyebrows raised and jaws dropped all over
Hollywoodland when the terms of the deal that lured
The Great Orson came forth: the Boy Wonder could
produce, write, direct and star in his own projects
with budgets up to 0,000 a picture! He would have
total control over the shooting of the picture and
the finished product. The studio, well, they just
paid the bills. Meanwhile, the insiders of filmland
were skeptical.
An interview with a Hollywood Insider, who looks like a bookie:
HOLLYWOOD INSIDER
John Ford doesn’t have a deal like that. Cecil B.
DeMille doesn’t have a deal like that. No one has a
deal like that! If ya ask me, George Schaefer is
just plain nuts
Images of Welles arriving in Hollywood and touring the town: Welles
climbing down from a plane; posing with Schaefer before of the RKO
gates; touring the studio; leaning over an editing machine; laughing
with female extras in the commissary; posing in front of his Brentwood
home. As we hear:
NEWSREEL VOICE
So Cometh Orson! He toured the RKO studio and met
with the biggest of the big! He charmed his way
through the town from the Brown Derby to the
Copacabana, from the Pacific Palisades to the
Hollywood Hills!
More images of Welles in Hollywood: Welles touring the town; visiting
all the nightclubs and dancing with beautiful women; he is seen
everywhere about the town. As we hear:
NEWSREEL VOICE
Yes, the Boy Wonder had arrived! He even charmed
those rival maidens of Hollywood gossip, those well-
coiffured chroniclers of the dream factory: Hedda
Hopper and Louella Parsons.
Shots of Welles with LOUELLA PARSONS and HEDDA HOPPER
Louella is a much-feared gossip columnist. She is a gorgon in her 60’s;
Margaret Dumont possessed by the devil and tanked up on gin. Her
capricious cruelty is only matched by her fervent loyalty to all things
Hearstian.
Hedda is a gossip columnist in her 50’s. She is given to elaborate hats
and villainous intrigue. Louella’s younger, smarter rival, Hedda
probably spends her spare time eating children.
Then a snippet of an interview with Louella:
LOUELLA
Orson is the sweetest boy. We’re both from the
midwest, you know. He’s just a local fella making
good, ya follow?
More shots of Welles just after his arrival in Hollywood, blissfully
touring the RKO facilities as:
NEWSREEL VOICE
So today, almost a year after his arrival in
Hollywood, we leave the Boy Wonder still hard at
work developing his much-anticipated first feature,
preparing to dazzle us all again. We’re waiting,
Orson!
Welles after his RKO tour, smiling mischievously, stands before a
microphone:
WELLES
I’ll tell you what, this is the best electric train
set a boy ever had!
"The End" and newsreel credits
The newsreel sputters to a stop in a screening room. A shaft of light
shines on a large MGM logo on one wall. Another shaft of light
illuminates the sitting figure of LOUIS B. MAYER.
Mayer is a short, crafty, bespectacled man in his 50’s. His cloying,
avuncular exterior only fleetingly disguises the film titan’s
outrageous barbarism.
Another shadowy figure, a Mayer FLUNKIE, can be just glimpsed sitting
elsewhere in the screening room.
Mayer glowers at the darkened screen for a moment.
A beat.
MAYER
Who does that cocksucker think he is?
FLUNKIE
They’re laying bets over on the RKO
lot that this great deal will end up
with him never doing a picture. Back
to New York he goes.
MAYER
Serves him right. I mean can you stomach the
arrogance?
FLUNKIE
Inside skinny says the glory boy’s finished,
can’t come up with a movie. Wants to do a biography now.
MAYER
After RKO boots him maybe we’ll pick him up cheap.
Have him do that WAR OF THE WORLDS crap as a
feature.
Meantime, shelve the newsreel. No one cares
INT_SAN SIMEON. WELLES’ SUITE_EVENING
Orson Welles, elegant and impressive, is flourishing a cigarette and a
coin in his magnificently expressive hands He is perfecting a magic
trick.
Welles is lounging on the bed of an enormous guest suite at San Simeon.
He is wearing a tuxedo.
In the bathroom beyond him we can see the writer HERMAN MANKIEWICZ
("MANK". )
Mank is a wonderful wreck of a human being. 43 years old, but looking
considerably older, he is short and squat and bitter. A compulsive
gambler and drinker, Mank still glimmers with wry humor that is equally
wicked and corrosive. He is incomplete without the stub of a cigar
clenched in his teeth.
Mank, also dressed in a tuxedo, is looking at himself in the bathroom
mirror as he struggles with his bow tie. He occasionally glances in the
mirror to Welles.
Title: JANUARY 3, 1940
MANK
I don’t know what you expected with Joseph-
fucking-Conrad for Chrissake. I mean this is
Hollywood, pal.
WELLES
All right! Enough! I’ve heard this from Schaefer
and RKO. I’ve heard it from everyone--
MANK
But you keep coming up with the same elitist crap -
- HEART OF DARKNESS with a million dollar budget?! -
- no one wants to see that.
WELLES
Nonsense
Welles dramatically taps the cigarette on the coin, practicing his
trick as:
MANK
What are movies about, Orson?
WELLES
Forget it-
MANK
What are movies about?
WELLES
Telling stories.
MANK
Nope.
WELLES
Showing life
MANK
Who the hell wants to see life?! People are sick to
death of life! They want make-believe, pal. Fantasy.
They want Tarzan and Jane, not Tristan and Isolde.
Welles quickly makes the cigarette seem to completely pass through the
coin. An astounding bit of slight of hand.
WELLES
(happily)
Magic
MANK
Butts on seats. That’s what movies are about. You
got one job in Hollywood -- everyone has the same
job, in fact -- putting the butts on the seats. You
gotta sell ’em popcorn and Pepsi- cola. It’s all
about popcorn and Pepsi-cola.
WELLES
Not for me.
MANK
Then you better get ready to be the youngest never-
was in Hollywood history.
WELLES
That’s better than being the oldest has-been in
Hollywood history.
MANK
You’re a laugh-riot, kid.
Welles laughs and goes to Mank in the bathroom.
WELLES
Here, turn around.
Welles ties Mank’s bow tie for him as:
WELLES
So, we’ve got to come up with our movie. Our
biography.
MANK
Right-
WELLES
We find the man and then we dissect him-
MANK
Like a bug.
WELLES
But with compassion and insight--
MANK
(glancing at his watch)
Christ, we gotta go! The old man doesn’t cotton to
lateness.
Mank takes a quick swig from a flask of vodka, shoves it into his coat
and scurries into the other room as Welles checks himself in the
mirror.
A beat. Welles smiles, confident and resplendent
WELLES
(into the mirror)
How do you do, Mr. Hearst? My name is Orson
Welles.
INT_SAN SIMEON. HALLWAY_FOLLOWING
Welles and Mank walk through an impressive upstairs hallway of San
Simeon. Quick glimpses of the astounding grandeur everywhere around
them as:
WELLES
How about Howard Hughes? We could do Hughes
MANK
I’m not fucking with Hughes. That shit-kicker would
kill us dead, baby. Just like Jean Harlow
WELLES
Howard Hughes killed Jean Harlow?
MANK
Sure. Dropped her out of his Lockheed over Utah
They disappear down a long stairway
INT_SAN SIMEON. DINING HALL_EVENING
An explosion of color and an immediate swirl of sound
We are in the Grand Refectory -- the mammoth dining room -- at San
Simeon. Five long tables are placed end to end. There are about fifty
sumptuously dressed guests.
WILLIAM RANDOLPH HEARST and MARION DAVIES preside, side by side,
at the
center table.
Hearst is 76 years old. He is a fully commanding figure, towering in
both height (six foot two) and personality. He is shaped rather like a
pear and moves with a delicacy surprising for such a famously merciless
man. Although the word ruthless does not begin to do justice to the
press baron’s animus, Hearst is endlessly polite and almost painfully
soft-spoken.
Marion is 43 years old, a shimmering and lively presence. In a word
that might have been coined for her, she has moxie. While the ravages
of alcoholism have left their subtle marks on the edges and attitudes
of her face, she can still charm and captivate with almost effortless
grace.
Around Hearst’s feet sit a collection of his beloved dachshunds.
On the other side of the main table, and down a bit, sit Welles and
Mank.
We sweep around the table, hearing bits of overlapping dialogue and
finally settle on Marion and Hearst.
Marion is charming CAROLE LOMBARD and CLARK GABLE, who sit beside
her.
She tenderly rests one hand on Hearst’s arm as she speaks. Marion
speaks with an occasionally pronounced stutter.
MARION
And we would hear them scuttling around at night
with their little red eyes and little yellow t-t-
teeth and I’m just imagining plague lice jumpin’ all
over the damn place So we set t-t-traps everywhere.
And every morning we would find the t-t-traps sprung
but no mice!
CAROLE LOMBARD
Houdini mice.
Laughter
MARION
Just wait. So one night I notice Pops getting outta
bed and sneaking away. And he’s got this little p-p-
paper bag with him, right? Middle of the night. So I
figure the old man’s really up to no good this time
and I follow him. Well I’ll be g-g-goddamned if he’s
not springing all the traps and leaving cheese for
the rats!
MARION
You and that freak Disney, in love with the damn
rats!
Laughter, even from Hearst
HEARST
They really are sweet little things
Meanwhile, across the table Welles is rapaciously devouring his dinner
as:
WELLES
Sigmund Freud?
MANK
Kid, you just got your ass kicked on Joseph Conrad
and now you’re gonna go to Schaefer and tell him you
wanna do the id and the superego? Stop being so
goddamn smart.
Mank surreptitiously pours a huge shot of vodka from his flask into his
glass as:
WELLES
(suddenly inspired)
Manolete?!
MANK
Who the hell’s Manolete?
WELLES
The great Spanish bullfighter
MANK
I don’t wanna write about no spic.
WELLES
No, it’s perfect! When in doubt, put on a cape!
False noses and faux beards and flowing capes have
been the life-blood of the actor’s craft since the
days of lrving and Booth. (He flourishes his napkin
like a bullfighter’s cape.) Imagine me in a
glittering suit of lights on the dusky Andalusian
plains--
MARION
Why Mr. Welles is attempting semaphore
Welles smiles across the table.
Laughter.
WELLES
Bullfighting, Miss Davies!
MARION
And is dear Mank your b-b-bull?
WELLES
My factotum, ally and comrade-in-arms
MANK
Writer, flunkie, pimp--
CAROLE LOMBARD
(wry)
You fight many bulls there in New York, Orson?
WELLES
Ever met Walter Winchell?
WELLES
(expansively, warming into a story)
No, when I was but a tender lad--
CAROLE LOMBARD
Last week would this be?
Laughter. As Welles speaks the whole table gradually stops eating and
listens to his tale:
WELLES
My father and I made a tour of the grand boulevards
of antique Europe. And when we were in Iberia I had
the chance to face the bulls. At the knee of the
great Manolete I took up the cape and sword -
(he uses his napkin and knife to
demonstrate)
-- across from me stood a mammoth bull reputed to
have gored a full seven men to a grisly demise! So -
- with Manolete shouting encouragement I flourished
. . . I flourished again . . . and the bull charged!
Across the golden dust it came, thundering like the
great minotaur of legend, closer, ever closer, its
calamitous hooves pounding into the dirt, shaking
the earth as I held the crimson eye of the bull with
my own, defying it -- it was almost upon me and I
flourished one last time! -- the monster swept past!
-
(he spins his napkin in the air and his
knife is now gone, a magic trick)
-- and my sword was gone -- buried in the bloody
eye of the beast!
Applause and laughter from around the table. Then:
HEARST
(quietly)
You are evidently a man who knows a great deal
about bull.
Some nervous titters. A beat as Welles’ smile fades and he stares at
Hearst.
HEARST
Of all man’s malignity -- of all his sadism -- none
is more depraved than cruelty to animals.
Silence
Mank gives Welles a desperate warning look to keep quiet Welles cannot
resist speaking:
WELLES
In Spain the cruelty would be in denying the beast
a fighting end.
A beat as Hearst rivets Welles with a cold, bland stare Deafening
silence around the table.
Then:
HEARST
Who are you, sir?
WELLES
My name is Orson Welles
HEARST
The actor
WELLES
And director.
HEARST
I see. And you are in California for what reason?
WELLES
To make pictures.
HEARST
And what pictures have you made?
A beat.
WELLES
None.
A beat. Hearst smiles
HEARST
Well, I wish you luck. It is a treacherous
business.
WELLES
So I’ve been told.
HEARST
In Hollywood the fiercest bulls are the most
brutally killed.
WELLES
I’ll remember that.
A tense beat. Marion quickly diffuses the situation;
MARION
Enough Hollywood talk! Can’t anyone talk about
anything else?
MANX
Heard some juicy gossip from Metro.
MARION
(eagerly)
Ooh, dish.
Laughter. Even from Hearst. Then the dinner chatter continues.
Welles cannot keep his eyes off Hearst, the press baron draws Welles in
like a siren.
Marion gives Hearst a little kiss and grabs Carole Lombard and they
leave the table. Hearst leans into Clark Gable to continue talking.
Welles sits back and reaches for a cigar. Mank takes his arm and
indicates he should stop, nodding his head in Hearst’s direction.
WELLES
(quietly)
The man doesn’t allow drinking or cigars? This is
monstrous.
MANK
The old man has his own way of doing things
WELLES
He’s nothing but a hypocrite. He preaches morality
every day in his sordid little papers for everyone
else in the world but he lives openly with his
mistress.
Mank sneaks another shot from his flask
MANK
Buddy, when you own the largest publishing empire
in the universe you can do whatever the hell you
want. Think about it, pal. Every day one out of five
Americans picks up a Hearst publication. 30
newspapers, a dozen magazines, a bunch of radio
stations and the grand dragon of them all. Little
Miss Louella Parsons. Tends to give you some of that
ol’ noblesse oblige.
Welles studies Hearst across the table.
WELLES
Look at those hands. Those are the hands of an
artist. A modern Caravaggio.
MANK
No, baby, those are the hands of a killer
Hearst leans down and feeds his favorite pet dachshund, Helen, table
scraps. He talks to her gently.
HEARST
There you are, honey. Aren’t you a wonderful girl?
INT_SAN SIMEON. LADIES LOUNGE_FOLLOWING
Marion and Carole Lombard escape into an ornate ladies bathroom.
Marion immediately goes to a cabinet and retrieves a bottle of Scotch
hidden under some towels. She takes a swig and then hands the bottle to
Carole Lombard. She drinks.
Marion lights a cigarette.
MARION
God, these parties are the worst
CAROLE LOMBARD
You need to get outta here, Rapunzel
MARION
That’s why he has the parties, he says it’s like
bringing the world to me.
CAROLE LOMBARD
Why don’t you come down to LA? Stay with us for a
while.
MARION
With about twenty of his spies on my tail. No
thanks.
Marion hands the cigarette to Carole Lombard A beat.
A beat.
MARION
(somewhat ruefully)
It’s not so bad here. After all, what girl doesn’t
want to live in a castle?
MARION
Mr. Welles certainly is a caution
CAROLE LOMBARD
(smiles)
Yeah, Orson’s a real piece of work. But deep down,
he’s a good kid. Real deep down.
MARION
And attractive in a hammy sort of way.
CAROLE LOMBARD
Mm.
A beat. Carole Lombard hands the cigarette back to Marion
CAROLE LOMBARD
Listen, you come down and stay with us for a few
days. Just tell the old man that--
MARION
I can’t
CAROLE LOMBARD
Sure you can, just--
MARION
He needs me here.
A beat. Carole Lombard does not respond.
INT_SAN SIMEON. BALLROOM_FOLLOWING
In the cavernous ballroom, a dance band is playing "I’LL BE SEEING
YOU."
The guests mingle and dance
Welles and Mank wander as Welles takes in the impressive surroundings.
WELLES
"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome
decree. . . "How big is it, all told? The estate?
MANK
The whole joint is half the size of Rhode Island.
WELLES
Jesus
MANK
Yeah, it’s the place God would have built, if he’d
had the money.
Carole Lombard and Marion return, rather giggly
MARION
Mankie, Mankie d-d-dance with me
MANK
You’ve been naughty, haven’t you, honey?
MARION
Shit, can you smell it? You got any sen-sen?
MANK
Sorry.
MARION
Mr. Welles, you got any--? Oh fuck it.
She goes off in search of Hearst.
CAROLE LOMBARD
Meanwhile, Orson, I thought your bullfighting story
was nifty. Let’s cut a rug.
She pulls Welles to the dance floor Mank wanders away and takes another
swig from his flask.
As Welles and Carole Lombard dance, Welles keeps an eye on Hearst and
Marion who are dancing nearby.
CAROLE LOMBARD
So you ever gonna do a picture?
WELLES
Not you too
CAROLE LOMBARD
(smiles)
It’s gonna be fine, Orson. You’re gonna do great.
WELLES
I wonder sometimes.
CAROLE LOMBARD
You’re just scared.
WELLES
Am I?
CAROLS LOMBARD
Sure
WELLES
And what am I scared of?
CAROLE LOMBARD
Of being found out. Of not being a genius
WELLES
(smiles)
Oh, but haven’t you heard? I’m the Boy Wonder.
I’ve been a genius since the moment I was born.
CAROLE LOMBARD
We’ve known each other too long, Orson. Sling the
bullshit elsewhere.
WELLES
Carole, you wound me! As if I could hope to pacify
you with evasions of--
CAROLE LOMBARD
Don’t insult me with your cute press quotes Save it
for Louella.
She stops and looks at him firmly
CAROLE LOMBARD
You make your mark, Orson.
Nearby Marion pulls away from Hearst sharply, drawing Welles’
attention. He overhears:
MARION
Goddamn it. I gotta have some kinda life!
HEARST
There’s no call for that language-
MARION
There certainly is I There certainly is! Aw, to
hell with you!
She storms off. Welles and Carole Lombard watch her go
WELLES
That poor woman.
CAROLE LOMBARD
(sadly)
She knew what she was signing on for After all,
she took the money.
Welles watches as Hearst stands alone on the dance floor We hear the
sound of a lion roaring in the distance
INT_SAN SIMEON. WELLES’ SUITE_NIGHT
Welles, again dressed in a tuxedo, lies on his bed
Through the open balcony doors he can hear the eerie sound of lions
roaring and elephants trumpeting in the night.
He stand and wanders to the balcony. Below him he can see bits and
pieces of Hearst’s private zoo in the moonlight: a lion pacing
relentlessly back and forth; an alligator slipping into the water; a
monkey slamming into the bars of its cage.
The disquieting sounds of the menagerie float through the midnight air.
Welles leaves his suite
INT_SAN SIMEON. HALLWAYS_FOLLOWING
Welles roams the seemingly endless hallways of San Simeon. In the half-
light they begin to resemble his own cinematic dream-palace, Xanadu.
He hears the ghostly echo of a song, "WHERE OR WHEN".
He curiously follows the sound, taking in the fabulous castle
everywhere around him.
He passes by the door to the Assembly Room. Inside, shafts of light
illuminate portions of huge, uncompleted jigsaw puzzles.
INT_SAN SIMEON. BALLROOM_FOLLOWING
"WHERE OR WHEN" is now clear.
Welles stands in the shadows of a balcony overlooking the great
ballroom.
Below him a phonograph record spins lazily on a turntable standing of
the floor of the deserted ballroom.
And Hearst and Marion are enjoying a quiet dance together, her head
nestled on his shoulder.
Welles stares and stares at them And slowly smiles. We linger on Hearst
and Marion as they dance
EXT_WELLES’ HOUSE. POOL_DAY
Welles, wrapped in a bathrobe, is pacing quickly around the perimeter
of his backyard pool. He is puffing on a cigar and grunting to himself
as he scribbles down notes.
Mank, wearing sunglasses and a battered fedora and looking decidedly
hung-over, comes from the house to the pool.
Welles roars up to him:
WELLES
Mank! You scoundrel! What took you so long?!
MANK
(pained)
Orson, please ... it’s too bright
Welles takes Mank’s fedora and flings it away.
WELLES
Here you are, up with the birds for once, you
vampire!
MANK
(settling into a deck chair)
Okay, boy wonder, what?
WELLES
Listen ... I’ve got it! It came to me like a thief
in the night! Pure inspiration! Total magnificence!
Mank takes a glass from a tray of orange juice and pours vodka from a
flask into his juice as:
MANK
Oh for Christ’s sake-
WELLES
I know who we’re going to get I The great American
biography! A journey into the soul of the beast.
MANK
This better be good
WELLES
Image a man that has shaped his time. A titanic
figure of limitless influence. Think about empire. A
man with an empire at his feet. A man, like a baron,
living in a palace, a glorious palace on a hill, and
controlling the permutations of everyone beneath
him. Feudal.
MANK
(realizing)
Oh Christ...
WELLES
Image the possibilities as this man controls the
public perception of the nation through his--
MANK
Oh Christ
A beat as Welles stands in triumph before Mank.
WELLES
Yes.
MANK
(quietly)
Please don’t say this.
WELLES
Mank-
MANK
Don’t whisper it. Don’t even think it
WELLES
How long have we spent casting our minds about the
world when the answer to our prayers was right here
under our noses -- every single day in the
newspapers and on the radio -- waiting for us in
that ridiculous castle! Waiting for--!
MANK
Orson. Stop. Just stop
Welles quickly sits in a deck chair next to Mank as:
Beat
WELLES
Now remember he’s a public figure who sought out
that publicity so legally he can’t stop us from--
MANK
(laughs coldly) Listen to you. You
child! Men like him don’t bother with
things like legality. They don’t have to.
You know why, boy-o? Power. Power
like you couldn’t even begin to imagine.
MANK
Howard Hughes, he would just kill us. Hearst he
would kill us and fuck everything we ever loved.
WELLES
We’re doing Hearst.
A beat. Mank slowly removes his sunglasses and leans forward, dead
serious.
A beat.
MANK
You may think you know what you’re talking about,
kid, but believe me, you don’t. You’re talking about
going into a battle you can never win on a
battlefield so far above things like movies and
Hollywood that Hearst won’t even have to glance down
when he crushes you. When he flicks you away with
one finger. I’m talking about money and influence
and evil beyond your capacity to imagine Hell.
WELLES
So speaks the court jester.
MANK
Fuck you
WELLES
I expected more from you.
MANK
Sorry to disappoint.
WELLES
(with building venom)
How does it feel, Mank? Going up to the palace and
making all the lords and ladies laugh as you tell
your little stories and beg for crumbs at the table?
How does it feel being the ugly little monkey they
keep to amuse themselves--?!
Mank leaps to his feet
MANK
It feels just fine, you pompous fuck-
Welles blocks Mank’s way. Mank retreats. Welles pursues him around the
pool as:
WELLES
I remember a man who wrote I He was a brilliant
writer who dazzled me time and time again with his
wit and insight--
MANK
Don’t do this
WELLES
Where did he go? He hasn’t had a screen credit in
four years--
MANK
Don’t do this
WELLES
(savagely)
--Because he has been so furiously busy wasting
himself. Amusing his keepers. Because he is a
sycophant! Because he has been thrown out of every
studio in Hollywood and no one will hire him because
he’s a drunk- -!
Mank spins on him:
MANK
AND YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A GODDAMN PHONY! What is all
this "Orson Welles" bullshit?! This boy genius
crap?! What the fuck did you ever CREATE? You’re
just another goddamn ACTOR!
Welles shoves Mank violently. Mank goes sailing into the pool.
Mank splashes to the surface and stands for a shocked moment and then
wades to the edge of the pool. Miraculously, and like the true drinker
he is, Mank is still holding his glass of juice and vodka, now
supplemented with pool water.
Welles stands above him, blocking his exit from the pool. From this low
angle Welles suddenly looks startlingly Kane- like.
A pause
MANK
Let me out.
WELLES
Listen to me-
MANK
Fuck you--
WELLES
I am giving you the last chance you will ever have to be yourself
again!
MANK
(suddenly)
I don’t have it anymore?!
MANK
When I was a kid I wanted to scorch the world too -
- I had all kinda dreams about making great pictures
and telling great stories. But all that’s finished
for me--
WELLES
It doesn’t have to be
MANK
And yeah, sure, Hearst’s a great subject. Been
keeping notes on him for years for my ...
(he laughs bitterly)
great American novel. But I can’t do it anymore. No
studio’s gonna hire me and I - -
WELLES
I’ll hire you -- right now-
MANK
I can’t do it. okay?! I drink too much -- I drink
all the fucking time and I don’t have it anymore.
All that is over for me--
WELLES
(roars)
NOT UNLESS I. TELL YOU IT IS
A tense pause
Welles kneels by the edge of the pool, effortlessly switching gears.
WELLES
(deeply)
Look, Mank, this is our only chance
I know this is the story. And now is the time. And I cannot do it
without you. Everything in my life -- all the promise and potential and
dreams -- have led to this moment right now. To you and me. Right here.
A pause. Welles gazes at Mank, imploring
MANK
He’ll destroy us.
WELLES
Then let him. What have we got to lose, you and I?
A long beat Welles leans close to him.
WELLES
Take my hand, Mank. And we’ll dance one last time.
We’ll dance to the music of the angels. We’ll make
history. We’ll scorch the earth. We will ...
astonish them all.
Silence as Welles offers his hand to Mank.
Mank takes a sip from his glass of juice, vodka and pool water.
MANK
Thank God you don’t write dialogue
INT_WELLES’ LIVING ROOM_DAY
Mank is slowly sharpening a series of pencils with a pocket knife,
blank pads waiting. Welles is standing across the room from him.
WELLES
So, who is he? We have to know him.
MANK
Everyone sees someone different. That’s what we
show.
WELLES
How?
MANK
Like a jewel. Turn it in the light and a different
facet is illuminated.
Mank finishes sharpening his last pencil and picks up a pad He smiles
to Welles
MANK
Go
And we leap into MONTAGE -- WELLES AND MANK BRAINSTORM
A rush of jazzy. Gene Krupa percussion as Welles and Mank develop their
story.
We see images of feverish creativity. Welles raging, pleading, arguing,
pushing. Mank responding, laughing, drinking, writing.
It is a passionate dance of creation Welles’ tennis court Mank and
Welles are on the tennis court, but hard at work.
Mank waits for Welles to serve. Welles bounces the tennis ball, but is
too preoccupied to serve as:
WELLES
The key -- the key -- the clue -- what does this
man recall on his death bed? Okay, Mank, you’re
dying. What’s the last image that comes to you?
Right now.
MANK
This girl on a dock. White dress. Never said a word
to her.
WELLES
Why her?
MANK
She was . . . innocent
A beat, Welles deep in thought. Mank watches Welles closely.
MANK
So when was our man innocent? Was there a moment
early on -- of innocence and bliss? There must have
been. Okay, you’re dying - what do you think?
Welles does not answer. He continues to bounce the tennis ball, deep in
thought.
A beat
MANK
(probing)
Something you lost maybe?
MANK
Something you can never get back?
Mank watches as Welles lets the tennis ball drop. It bounces and rolls
-- for a fleeting moment in Welles’ mind it seems to become the rolling
snow globe from KANE -- we hear the sound of sleigh bells and a child’s
happy voice -- in the snow globe we seem to see a boy laughing and
pelting his father with snowballs. . .
Then more images, mad and outlandish and sedate and solemn; in the
kitchen, in a car, around the pool, in a bar.
Welles and Mank act out scenes and argue. They leap from character to
character fearlessly. Emoting and laughing and writing. We see the twin
joy and terror of walking the tightrope, of sheer creation.
We see them having a ferocious argument. They scream back and forth
angrily and then Mank storms out and slams the door. Welles stands
alone in his living room, he catches a glimpse of his own reflection in
a mirror and we hear:
MANK’S VOICE
Men like Hearst don’t love..
Welles’ living room: Welles is slowly advancing on Mank.
Mank sits, watching Welles approach. The living room is now filthy.
Papers and sketches and gin bottles are discarded everywhere around
them, a thick cloud of cigar smoke. It is very late at night and the
room is in semi-darkness.
WELLES
All men love. But men like Hearst -- they don’t
bother with convention because--
MANK
They don’t have to.
WELLES
He loves in his own way. On his conditions. Because
those are the only conditions he has ever known.
Welles is now standing over Mank, a dark figure in silhouette. Mank
soaks in this somewhat ominous image.
More music and images: eating and working; swimming and working;
playing and working simultaneously.
Then: Beach:
Sunset. We see them walking along a deserted beach Welles is walking in
the surf, his trousers rolled.
WELLES
(quietly)
Hearst looks down at the world at his feet
Everything has always been beneath him.
MANK
And what does he see?
WELLES
The people. When they pay him homage, he adores
them. But when they have the ... audacity to
question him. To doubt him. To embarrass him. Then
he despises them.
MANK
And when he looks up? What does he dream about?
31
Welles stops and looks up. A thousand stars twinkle above him. They are
reflected in his eyes.
A long pause as he does not answer Mank Then
MANK
I’m ready to write it, Orson
Welles turns to him. You’re sure?
Yeah. Mank gazes at Welles.
WELLES
MANK
I know him The clatter of an old typewriter is heard. EXT/INT +
BUNGALOW. VICTORVILLE_DAY
Victorville is a rural desert community in San Bernadino County about
90 miles from LA.
Mank and John Houseman are ensconced in a bungalow at Campbell’s Guest
Ranch, writing the movie.
Mank, smoking a cigar, paces around the cacti and shrubs in the
backyard reciting to their secretary. She pounds away on a typewriter
as he orates. A huge stack of papers lies neatly by her typewriter.
This is clearly the longest screenplay in the history of the world.
MANK
Leiand: "You talk about the people as if you owned
them. As though they belonged to you. But you don’t
really care about anything except you." Craig: "A
toast then, Jedediah, to all those people who didn’t
vote for me today and to love on my own terms. Those
are the only terms anybody ever knows. . . "
We float into the house as we continue to hear Mank’s recitation...
Inside, John Houseman is busy rifling through Mank’s room as he
listens: