FADE IN:
. BLACK SCREEN
NARRATOR
This story is about Howard Beale
who was the network news anchorman on
UBS-TV --
A BANK OF FOUR COLOR TELEVISION ON MONITORS
It is 7:14 P.M., Monday, September 22, 1975, and we are
watching the network news programs on CBS, NBC, ABC and
UBS-TV, the network of our story. The AUDIO is OFF;
and head shots of WALTER CRONKITE, JOHN CHANCELLOR,
HOWARD K. SMITH and HARRY REASONER, and of course,
the anchorman of our network, HOWARD BEALE, silently
flit and flicker across the four television screens,
interspersed with the news of the day -- President
Ford’s new Energy Program, a hearing on Patty Hearst’s
bail, truce violations in Beirut, busing trouble in
Boston.... NARRATION continues OVER --
NARRATOR
-- in his time, Howard Beale had
been a mandarin of television, the
grand old man of news, with a HUT
rating of 16 and a 28 audience
share --
CAMERA MOVES IN to isolate HOWARD BEALE, who is
everything an anchorman should be -- 58 years old
silver-haired, magisterial, dignified to the point of
divinity. NARRATION continues OVER --
NARRATOR
-- in 1969, however, he fell to a
22 share, and, by 1972, he was
down to a 15 share. In 1973, his
wife died, and he was left a
childless widower with an 8 rating
and a 12 share. He became morose
and isolated, began to drink
heavily, and, on September 22,
1975, he was fired, effective in
two weeks. The news was broken to
him by Max Schumacher --
2. EXT. 5TH AVE. SOUTH OF 57TH STREET - NIGHT
11:30 P.M. The area is deserted except for a few
STROLLERS window-shopping the department stores.
And way down near 55th Street, TWO roaring drunk middle-
aged men, HOWARD BEALE and MAX SCHUMACHER, reeling
along and hooting it up. NARRATION continues OVER --
NARRATOR
-- who was president of the News
Division at UBS and an old friend.
The two men got properly pissed --
CLOSER SHOT of HOWARD and MAX (who is a craggy,
lumbering, rough-hewn, 51-year-old man), thoroughly
plastered and on a drunken laughing jag --
HOWARD
(clutching the corner
mailbox to keep from
falling)
When was this?
MAX
1951 --
HOWARD
I was at CBS with Ed Murrow in
1951. Didn’t you join Murrow
in 1951? --
MAX
Must’ve been 1950 then. I was at
NBC. Morning News. Associate
producer. I was a kid, twenty-six
years old. Anyway, they were
building the lower level on the
George Washington Bridge, and we
were doing a remote there. Except
nobody told me! --
For some reason, this knocks them out. HOWARD, wheezing
with suppressed laughter, clutches the mailbox. MAX has
to shout to get the rest of the story out --
MAX
-- ten after seven in the morning -- I
get a call -- "Where the hell are
you? -- You’re supposed to be on the
George Washington Bridge!" -- I jump
out of bed -- throw my raincoat
over my pajamas -- run down the
stairs -- I get out in the street --
I flag a cab -- I jump in -- I say:
"Take me to the middle of the George
Washington Bridge!" --
It’s too much again. The TWO MEN dissolve into silent
wheezing spasms of laughter --
MAX
(tears streaming down
his cheeks)
-- the driver turns around --
he says -- don’t do it, buddy --
(so weak now he can
barely talk)
-- he says -- you’re a young man --
you got your whole life ahead
of you --
He can’t go on. He stomps around on the sidewalk.
HOWARD clutches the mailbox.
3. INT. A BAR - 3:00 A.M.
Any bar. Mostly empty. MAX and HOWARD in a booth,
so sodden drunk they are sober --
HOWARD
I’m going to kill myself --
MAX
Oh, shit, Howard --
HOWARD
I’m going to blow my brains out
right on the air, right in the
middle of the seven o’clock news.
MAX
You’ll get a hell of a rating,
I’ll tell you that, a fifty
share easy --
HOWARD
You think so?
MAX
We could make a series out of it.
Suicide of the Week. Hell, why
limit ourselves? Execution of the
Week -- the Madame Defarge Show!
Every Sunday night, bring your
knitting and watch somebody get
guillotined, hung, electrocuted,
gassed. For a logo, we’ll have
some brute with a black hood over
his head. Think of the spin-offs
-- Rape of the Week --
HOWARD
(beginning to get
caught up in the idea)
Terrorist of the Week?
MAX
Beautiful!
HOWARD
How about Coliseum ’74? Every
week we throw some Christians
to the lions! --
MAX
Fantastic! The Death Hour! I
love it! Suicides, assassinations,
mad bombers, Mafia hitmen, murder
in the barbershop, human sacrifices
in witches’ covens, automobile
smashups. The Death Hour! A
great Sunday night show for the
whole family. We’ll wipe fucking
Disney right off the air --
They snigger and snort. HOWARD lays his head down on
the booth’s table and verges on sleep --
4. INT. HOWARD’S BEDROOM - 4:30 A.M. - DARK
HOWARD, fully clothed, sprawled asleep on his still-
covered bed in the dark bedroom. Suddenly, he sits bolt
upright, SCREAMING out against unseen terrors --
5. INT. HOWARD’S APARTMENT HOUSE - LANDING OUTSIDE HIS
DOOR - 8:00 A.M. - TUESDAY, SEPT. 24
-- as HOWARD’S HOUSEKEEPER, a middle-aged lady, lets
herself into
INT. HOWARD’S APARTMENT - ENTRANCE FOYER
The HOUSEKEEPER, unbuttoning her coat, is greeted by
the sound of a raucous clock ALARM, relentlessly
BUZZING O.S. She crosses the --
INT. LIVING ROOM
-- and opens the blinds letting in an eruption of
daylight. The shrill BUZZING getting louder, she
proceeds into the --
INT. BACK FOYER
-- where she pauses to look into the bedroom, the door
being ajar; the BUZZING is coming from here --
HOUSEKEEPER’S P.O.V -- HOWARD BEALE,
still wearing the clothes he wore last night, curled
in a position of fetal helplessness on the floor in
the far corner of the room --
HOUSEKEEPER
(after a moment)
Are you all right, Mr. Beale?
HOWARD
(opens one eye)
I’m fine, thank you, Mrs.
Merryman --
With some effort, he contrives to get to his feet as
the HOUSEKEEPER crosses to the alarm clock and turns
it off --
6. CREDITS AND MUSIC ERUPT ONTO THE SCREEN
TITLE:
"N E T W O R K"
UNDER AND INTERSPERSED WITH CREDITS, a montage of
scenes, occasionally audible, on this seemingly
routine day --
7. INT. HOWARD BEALE’S OFFICE - 5TH FLOOR - 9:20 A.M.
A small, unpretentious office, cluttered with books,
magazines, periodicals, photographs and awards on the
walls, various mementos here and there. HOWARD
(necktied and in shirtsleeves), behind his desk,
rattling away his copy for that evening’s broadcast
on his typewriter -- pauses to pour himself a quick
shot of Scotch --
8. INT. THE NIGHTLY NEWS ROOM - ROOM 517 - 10:30 A.M.
The common room off which Howard’s office debouches. A
large room compactly filled with the desks of producers,
associate producers, head writer and writers, production
assistants, etc. The walls are festooned like bulletin
boards with sheaves of newspaper pages and cutouts and
reams of wire releases (there are two wire machines in a
corner). Large blowups of HOWARD BEALE are prominently
displayed. There are small, shelved libraries of books,
directories and magazines here and there. And the
ever-present bank of four television monitors; and,
Since it is 10:30 A.M., Tuesday, September 23, 1975,
and, since the AUDIO is OFF, the screens silently
flicker with whatever was on that day at that time.
HOWARD comes out of his office, crosses through the
general HUM of informal industry, an occasional
TYPEWRITER CLACKING, a more than occasional phone
ringing, as the Nightly News Room PERSONNEL, all in
their 20’s and 30’s, move, MURMUR, confer about their
businesses. HOWARD BEALE makes for a ledge of reference
books to check out some fact. He spread the reference
book out on an unoccupied desk. SOMEONE in b.g. tells
him he’s wanted on the phone. He nods, takes the call
at the desk he is at. Throughout, he belts away at his
glass of booze --
9. INT. OFFICE OF THE EXEC. PRODUCER OF UBS - NETWORK NEWS -
UBS BUILDING - 5TH FLOOR - 1:00 P.M. - TUESDAY
Another smallish office debouching off the main room
like Howard’s, absolutely jammed with nine PEOPLE, a
couple of them standing, the others sitting wherever
they can. The executive producer, HARRY HUNTER (early
40’s), is behind the desk. HOWARD BEALE sits on the
small, Finnish modern couch, flanked by an ASSOCIATE
PRODUCER and a MAN from the Graphics Department. Aside
from BEALE and HUNTER, everybody else is in their 20’s
or early 30’s, and, with the same exceptions, they’re
all casually dressed. This is the daily run-down
meeting at which the schedule for that evening’s
broadcast is roughed out, and it sounds something like
this --
HOWARD
(reaching for the bottle of
booze on HUNTER’S desk to
refill his glass)
-- let’s do the Lennon deportation
at the end of three --
HARRY HUNTER
That strong enough to bump?
HOWARD
(sipping his booze)
In one then, I’ll do a lead on
Sarah Jane Moore to Mayberry in
San Francisco --
ASSOCIATE PRODUCER
The film I saw was the Chief
of Detectives --
GRAPHICS MAN
I think we got maybe ten seconds
on the shooting itself --
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
The whole thing is one-twenty-five --
HOWARD
What does that come out?
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
About four-fifty --
ASSOCIATE PRODUCER
Are we using Squeaky Fromme?
HARRY HUNTER
Let’s do that in two -- Squeaky --
Ford at the airport - bump. Now.
we using a map going into San
Francisco?
GRAPHICS MAN
I prefer a news-pix --
HOWARD pours himself another shot of booze and sips it --
HOWARD
What’ve we got left?
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
Gun control, Patty Hearst affidavit,
guerillas in Chad, OPEC in Vienna --
10. INT. 4TH FLOOR CORRIDOR - UBS BUILDING - 6:28 P.14. -
TUESDAY
LOOKING INTO the small network-news make-up room where
HOWARD BEALE is standing, Kleenex tucked into his shirt
collar, getting a few last whisks from the MAKE-UP
LADY. Finished, HOWARD pulls the Kleenex from his
collar, takes a last sip from a glass of booze on the
make-up shelf, gathers his papers and exits, turns and
enters --
11. INT. NETWORK NEWS STUDIO - 4TH FLOOR.
Typical Newsroom studio -- cameras, cables, wall
maps, flats and propping, etc. HOWARD nods, smiles to
various PERSONNEL -- CAMERAMEN, ASSISTANT DIRECTORS,
ASSOCIATE PRODUCERS -- as he makes his way to his desk
facing Camera One. He sits, prepares his papers, looks
up to the control room, nods --
MUSIC ABRUPTLY OUT:
END OF CREDITS:
12. INT. CONTROL ROOM - 4th FLOOR
The clock wall reads: 6:30. Typical control room. A
room-length double bank of television monitors including
two color monitor screens, the show monitor and the
pre-set monitor. Before this array of TV screens sits
the DIRECTOR, flanked on his left by the PRODUCTION
ASSISTANT (GIRL) who stop-watches the show, and on his
right by the TECHNICAL DIRECTOR who operates a special
board of buttons and knobs. (On the TECHNICAL
DIRECTOR’s right sits the LIGHTING DIRECTOR). At the
moment, the show monitor has the network’s Washington
correspondent, JACK SNOWDEN, doing a follow-up on the
attempted assassination of President Ford in San
Francisco --
SNOWDEN (ON MONITOR)
-- the first attempt on President
Ford’s life was eighteen days ago --
and again yesterday in San Francisco --
DIRECTOR
(murmuring into his mike)
-- Lou, kick that little thing shut
on ground level --
SNOWDEN (ON MONITOR)
-- In spite of two attempts --
The show monitor screen has switched over to show film
of President Ford arriving at the San Francisco airport --
SNOWDEN (V.O. ON MONITOR)
-- Mr. Ford says he will not become --
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
(murmurs)
-- forty seconds --
DIRECTOR
(murmurs into mike)
-- twenty seconds to one --
DIRECTOR
-- one --
HOWARD BEALE’S image suddenly flips on-screen --
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
-- thirty seconds to commercial freeze --
DIRECTOR
-- head roll --
TECHNICAL DIRECTOR
-- rolling--
The DIRECTOR and TECHNICAL DIRECTOR turn in their seats
to join HARRY HUNTER and his SECRETARY in a brief
gossip --
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
Ladies and gentlemen, I would
like at this moment to announce
that I will be retiring from
this program in two weeks’ time
because of poor ratings --
The DIRECTOR has whispered something to HARRY HUNTER’S
SECRETARY which occasions sniggers from the SECRETARY
and from HARRY HUNTER. The TECHNICAL DIRECTOR stands to
get in on the joke --
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
(to DIRECTOR)
-- what’d you say? --
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
-- and since this show was the
only thing I had going for me
in my life, I have decided to
kill myself --
HARRY HUNTER’S SECRETARY murmurs something which causes
HARRY HUNTER to burst into laughter --
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
(to the DIRECTOR)
-- so what’d she say? --
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
-- I’ll tell you what I’m going
to do. I’m going to blow my brains
out right on this program a week
from today --
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
(frowning and very puzzled
indeed by this diversion
from the script)
-- ten seconds to commercial --
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
-- so tune in next Tuesday. That’ll
give the public relations people a
week to promote the show, and we
ought to get a hell of a rating
with that, a fifty share easy --
A bewildered PRODUCTION ASSISTANT nudges the DIRECTOR,
who wheels back to his mike --
DIRECTOR
(into mike)
-- and --
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
(to the DIRECTOR)
Listen, did you hear that? --
DIRECTOR
Take VTA.
The monitor screen erupts into a commercial for cat
food.
AUDIO MAN
(leaning in from his
glassed-in cubicle)
What was that about?
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
(to the DIRECTOR)
Howard just said he was going to
blow his brains out next Tuesday.
DIRECTOR
What’re you talking about?
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
Didn’t you hear him? He just said --
HARRY HUNTER
What’s wrong now?
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
Howard just said he was going to
kill himself next Tuesday.
HARRY HUNTER
What do you mean Howard just
said he was going to kill himself
next Tuesday?
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
(nervously riffling through
her script)
He was supposed to do a tag on
Ron Nesson and into commercial --
AUDIO MAN
(from his doorway)
He said tune in next Tuesday, I’m
going to shoot myself --
Everybody’s attention is now on the double bank of
black-and-white monitor screens showing various parts
of the studio, all of which show agitated behavior.
Several of the screens show HOWARD at his desk in
vehement discussion with a clearly startled FLOOR
MANAGER with headset and no less startled ASSOCIATE
PRODUCER --
DIRECTOR
(on mike to FLOOR MANAGER)
What the hell’s going on?
On the pre-set monitor screen, the FLOOR MANAGER
with headset looks up --
FLOOR MANAGER (ON SCREEN)
(voice booming into
the control room)
I don’t know. He just said he
was going to blow his brains out --
DIRECTOR
(into mike)
What the hell’s this all about,
Howard?
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
(shouting at the floor
PERSONNEL gathering
around him)
Will you get the hell out of here?
We’ll be back on air in a couple
of seconds!
DIRECTOR
(roaring into the mike)
What the fuck’s going on, Howard?
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
I can’t hear you --
DIRECTOR
(bawling at the AUDIO MAN)
Put the studio mike on!
AUDIO MAN
We’re back on in eleven seconds --
SLOCUM (on floor)
They want to know what the fuck is
going on, Howard.
HOWARD (on monitor)
I can’t hear you.
DIRECTOR
(bawling at the Audio man)
Put the studio mike on!
AUDIO MAN
We’re back on in eleven seconds.
ASSOCIATE PRODUCER
Harry, I think we better get him off --
HARRY HUNTER
(roaring at the Audio Man)
Turn his mike off!
AUDIO MAN
(now back in the control room)
What the hell’s going on?
HARRY HUNTER
(raging)
Turn the fucking sound off, you stupid
son of a bitch! This is going out live!
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
(stop-watching)
Three -- two -- one --
DIRECTOR
Take 2 --
At which point, the TECHNICAL DIRECTOR pushes a button;
the jangling cat food commercial flips off the show
monitor to be instantly replaced by a scene of gathering
bedlam around HOWARD’S desk. The AUDIO MAN flees in
panic back to the cubicle to turn off the audio but not
before HARRY HUNTER and the DIRECTOR going out live to
67 affiliates can be heard booming:
HARRY HUNTER
Chrissakes! Black it out! This is
going out live to sixty-seven fucking
affiliates ! Shit!
DIRECTOR
This is the dumbest thing I ever saw! --
13. INT. MAX SCHUMACHER’S OFFICE - FIFTH FLOOR - ROOM 509
MAX SCHUMACHER, behind his desk staring petrified at
his office console on which pandemonium ha broken out.
The FLOOR MANAGER and the ASSOCIATE PRODUCER and
now an ELECTRICIAN are trying to pull HOWARD away from
his desk and HOWARD is trying to hit anybody he can
with an ineffective right hand haymaker --
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
Get the fuck away from me!
OTHER VOICES (ON MONITOR)
(coming from all directions)
-- cut the show! --
-- get him out of there! --
-- go to standby! --
-- for Chrissakes, you stupid --
MAX’S PHONE RINGS --
MAX
(grabs the phone)
How the hell do I know? --
(he hangs up, seizes
another phone, barks:)
Give me the network news
control room!
On the MONITOR SCREEN, hysteria is clearly dominating.
The SCREEN has suddenly leaped into a fragment of the
just-done cat food COMMERCIAL, then a jarring shot of
the bedlam of the studio floor. This particular camera
seems unattended as it begins to PAN dementedly back
and forth showing the confusion on the studio floor.
Then abruptly the SCREEN is filled with Vice President
designate Nelson Rockefeller testifying before the
Senate Rules Committee --
MAX
(shouting into phone)
Black it out!
The SCREEN abruptly goes into BLACK as MAX slashes his
phone back into its cradle. His PHONE promptly RINGS
again, but MAX is already headed for the door. The
SCREEN goes into STANDBY. His SQUAWK BOX suddenly
blares --
SQUAWK BOX
What the hell happened, Max? --
MAX
(shouting as he exits)
How the hell do I know? I’m going
down now!
He strides into --
14. INT. ROOM 509 - COMMON ROOM OF NEWS
EXECUTIVE OFFICES
A large common room where all the SECRETARIES of the
News Division EXECUTIVES have their desks. It is empty
now except for one SECRETARY just now putting the cover
on her typewriter. MAX strides through and exits
into --
15. INT. FIFTH FLOOR CORRIDOR
A long institutional corridor -- part of an endless
maze of similar corridors -- with offices and technical
rooms debouching on both sides. The corridor has
begun to fill up with video-tape OPERATORS and other
News Division PERSONNEL who happen to be working late
-- all of whom are either wondering what happened or
are telling others what happened. MAX yanks an exit
door open and disappears down a flight of steps to
emerge into --
16. INT. FOURTH FLOOR CORRIDOR
-- which leads directly to the doors for the control
room and for the studio. Coming out of the control
room is the TECHNICAL DIRECTOR, who, on spotting MAX
striding down the corridor to him, says --
TECHNICAL DIRECTOR
Jesus Christ, Mr. Schumacher! --
He follows MAX into the --
17. INT. STUDIO
Everything seems to have quieted a bit, the hysteria
down to mumbles and murmurs and occasional sounds of
laughter. TELEPHONES are shrilly and incessantly
RINGING. In the far corner of the studio sits HOWARD
BEALE surrounded by HARRY HUNTER, the DIRECTOR, the
ASSOCIATE PRODUCER, the PRODUCTION ASSISTANT, and the
FLOOR MANAGER. CAMERAMEN, GRIPS and other FLOOR
PERSONNEL are gathered in a FLUX of little clumps around
the studio murmuring and muttering and giggling over the
whole absurd episode MAX heads straight for the GROUP
around HOWARD. They part to let him in --
HARRY HUNTER
(to MAX)
Tom Cabell wants you to call as
soon as you come in --
MAX nods, stares at HOWARD --
VOICE (O.S.)
Harry! Joe Sweeney on the phone! --
HARRY HUNTER
(bawls back)
I’m not taking any more calls!
Tell them Mr. Schumacher’s here!
They can talk to him!
MAX
(staring at HOWARD)
Howard, you have got to be out of
your ever-loving mind. Are you drunk?
(to the others)
How much boozing has he been doing
today?
PHONES O.S. RING and RING. VOICES O.S. SHOUT --
VOICES (O.S.)
-- Mr. Schumacher, Mr. Cabell
on the phone! --
-- Mr. Schumacher! Mr. Zangwill
for you! --
-- Harry! Mr. Thackeray on Three! --
HOWARD slowly looks up to MAX who is still staring at
him. He suddenly smiles broadly at MAX and winks.
VOICES (O.S.)
-- Harry! Thackeray wants to
talk to you right now! --
-- Mr. Schumacher! Mr. Gianini
wants to talk to you! --
MAX
(to HARRY HUNTER)
You better get hold of Mr. Chaney
and Frank Hackett --
18. INT. FIFTH FLOOR - UBS BUILDING - ELEVATOR AREA - 10:47 P.M.
FRANK HACKETT, Executive Senior Vice President of the
network, 41 years old, one of the new cool young breed
of management/merchandising executives, wearing a tuxedo
-- (he had been pulled out of a dinner party in
Westchester by this unfortunate business) -- comes out
of the elevator and turns briskly into --
19. INT. FIFTH FLOOR CORRIDOR
-- which is clotted with network EXECUTIVES of assorted
sizes and ages. HACKETT, en route to Room 509, which
is clearly the humming hub of activity up here, pauses
to comment to one of the EXECUTIVES --
HACKETT
Lou, can’t we clear out that
downstairs lobby? There must be
a hundred people down there, every
TV station and wire service in the
city. I could barely get in --
LOU
How’m I going to clear them out,
Frank?
HACKETT murmurs and peels his way into --
20. INT. ROOM 509 - EXECUTIVES’ OFFICES OF THE NEWS DIVISION
HACKETT enters the common room, off which debouch the
offices of the President of News (MAX SCHUMACHER), the
VP News Division (ROBERT MCDONOUGH), the VP Public
Relations News Division (MILTON STEINMAN), the VP Legal
Affairs News Division (WALTER GIANINI), VP Owned
Stations News (EMIL DUBROVNIK), General Manager News,
Radio (MICHAEL SANDIES) -- all of whom are here and a
number of other network EXECUTIVES. The VP Sales (JOE
DONNELLY) is just taking the phone from the VP News
Sales (RICHMOND KETTERING) who is seated at the desk of
the secretary for VP Public Relations News Division --
DONNELLY (on phone)
-- how many spots were wiped out? --
HACKETT
(to GIANINI, who is seated
at another secretary’s desk
studying a typescript of
the aborted news show)
Anything litigable? --
GIANINI
Not so far --
DONNELLY
(on phone)
-- We had to abort the show. Ed,
what else could we do? We’ll
make good, don’t worry about it --
HACKETT
(to ARTHUR ZANGWILL, VP
Standards and Practices,
now coming out of MAX’s
office)
Is Nelson in there?
ZANGWILL
He’s talking to Wheeler. So far,
over nine hundred fucking phone
calls complaining about the foul
language --
HACKETT
(mutters)
Shit --
P.R. MAN
(in b.g. on phone)
-- come on, Mickey, what page
are you putting it on?! --
HACKETT is already crossing into --
21. INT. MAX’S OFFICE
-- which is pretty well jammed with NELSON CHANEY
(President of the network), 52, a patrician, sitting
behind MAX’s desk and on the phone, looking up to
note HACKETT’s arrival --
CHANEY
(on phone)
Frank Hackett just walked in --
MILTON STEINMAN (VP Public Relations News Division),
early 50’s, a rumpled, ordinarily amiable man, is
standing by the desk on the phone to someone at CBS --
STEINMAN
(on phone)
I can’t release the tape, Marty,
we’re still studying it ourselves --
A P.R. MAN sticks his head into the office
P.R. MAN
(calling to STEINMAN)
ABC again, wants the tape --
STEINMAN
Tell him to go fuck himself
(to phone)
And that goes for you too, Marty --
HACKETT
(to HOWARD BEALE,
sitting on the couch)
You’re off the air as of now.
CHANEY
(extending his phone
to HACKETT)
He wants to talk to you --
HACKETT
(to MAX, leaning
against a wall)
Who’s replacing Beale tomorrow?
MAX
We’re flying up Snowden from
Washington.
STEINMAN
(leaning across HACKETT
to turn up the volume
knob on Max’s desk)
All right, everybody hold it.
Let’s see how the other
networks handled this --
He is referring to the four television monitors --
three on the wall and a large office console monitor
of UBS-TV, now blurting out their respective
commercials --
THACKERAY
(VP Stations Relations,
lounging in the doorway)
The ten o’clock news opened
with it --
HACKETT
(on phone)
Walter’s drafted a statement, I
haven’t seen it yet -- I just got
here, John, I was at a dinner party --
Suddenly, the faces of DAVE MARASH and ROLAND SMITH and
CHUCK SCARBOROUGH and ROGER GRIMSBY and BILL BEUTEL
and the UBS local news anchorman, TIM HALLOWAY, are on
the screen. Affable DAVE MARASH on the CBS monitor
is saying:
MARASH
(affably)
An unusual thing happened at one of
our sister networks, UBS, this evening --
ROGER GRIMSBY
(almost simultaneously)
Howard Beale, one of television’s
most esteemed newscasters --
CHUCK SCARBOROUGH
Howard Beale interrupted his network
news program tonight to announce --
HACKETT
(mutters)
Shit --
TIM HALLOWAY
Secretary of State Henry Kissinger
made a forceful address before the
United Nations General Assembly --
HACKETT
(to MAX)
How are we handling it?
MAX
Halloway’s going to make a brief
statement at the end of the show
to the effect Howard’s been under
great personal stress, et cetera
HACKETT reaches to click off the bank of monitor
screens. They abruptly go black.
HACKETT
(on phone)
I’ll call you back, John.
(returns the phone to
its cradle, regards the
gathered EXECUTIVES)
All right. We’ve got a stockholders’
meeting tomorrow at which we’re going
to announce the restructuring of
management plan, and I don’t want
this grotesque incident to interfere
with that. I’ll suggest Mr. Ruddy
open with a short statement washing
this whole thing off, and, you,
Max, better have some answers in
case some of those nuts that always
come to stockholders’ meetings --
MAX
(back to leaning
against the wall)
Mr. Beale has been under great
personal and professional pressures --
HACKETT
(exploding)
I’ve got some goddam surprises for
you too, Schumacher! I’ve had it
up to here with your cruddy division
and its annual thirty-three million
dollar deficit! --
MAX
Keep your hands off my news division
Frank. We’re responsible to
corporate level, not to you.
HACKETT
We’ll goddam well see about that!
CHANEY
All right, take it easy. Right now,
how’ re we going to get Beale out of
here? I understand there’s at least
a hundred reporters and camera crews
ings --
HERRON
(buzzing the projectionist)
Diana asked if she could sit in on
this --
MAX
Fine --
(sits, calls to DIANA)
How’s it going?
DIANA shrugs, smiles. The lights in the room go down.
A shaft of light shoots out from the projection room.
The PHONE at MAX’s elbow BUZZES. HE picks it up --
MAX
(murmurs into phone)
Max Schumacher -- I’m glad I got
you, John. Listen, I got into a
hassle with Frank Hackett last
night over the Howard Beale thing,
and he made a crack about the
stockholders’ meeting this afternoon.
He said something about having
some surprises for me. Is there
something going on, John, I don’t
know about? ... John, I’m counting
on you and Mr. Ruddy to back me up
against that son of a bitch
Okay, see you this afternoon --
He hangs up, leans back, watches the documentary film
which has just begun. ON SCREEN, a handsome black
woman in her early 30’s --
MAX
Who’s that, Laureen Hobbs?
HERRON
Yeah.
-- is sitting in a typical panel discussion grouping,
flanked by three MEN and a WOMAN, two white, two
black, all very urban guerilla, in fatigues, sun
glasses and combat boots. MISS HOBBS looks calmly
into camera and says:
LAUREEN HOBBS (ON SCREEN)
The Communist Party believes that
the most pressing political necessity
today is the consolidation of the
revolutionary, radical and democratic
movements into a United Front --
The PHONE BUZZES softly. MAX picks it up --
MAX
(murmurs into phone)
Yeah? ... Oh, goddamit, when, Louise?
Well, did he say anything? ...
All right, thanks.
(hangs up, promptly
picks up again)
Four-eight-oh-seven --
LAUREEN HOBBS (ON SCREEN) (in b.g.)
Repression is the response of an
increasingly desperate, imperialist
ruling clique. Indeed, the entire
apparatus of the bourgeois-democratic
state especially its judicial systems
and its prisons is disintegrating --
MAX (on phone)
Harry, Howard left my house about
ten minutes ago presumably headed here.
Let me know as soon as he gets here.
LAUREEN HOBBS (ON SCREEN) (in b.g.)
The fascist thrust must be resisted
in its incipient stages by the
broadest possible coalition --
25. INT. SCREENING ROOM 7 - TWENTY MINUTES LATER
Room still dark. ON SCREEN, NUMBERED WHITE LEADER is
rolling down --
HERRON
What we’re going to see now is
something really sensational.
The Flagstaff Independent Bank
in Arizona was ripped off last
week by a terrorist group called
the Ecumenical Liberation Army,
and they themselves actually took
movies of the rip-off while they
were ripping it off. It’s in
black and white, but wait’ll
you see it --
The SCREEN suddenly erupts into film of the interior
of a bank being entered in the wake of THREE MEN, two
of them black, and TWO WOMEN, one black and one white.
They disperse to various parts of the bank as if they
were here on legitimate business --
DIANA
The Ecumenical Liberation Army
-- is that the one that
kidnapped Patty Hearst?
HERRON
No, that’s the Symbionese
Liberation Army. This is the
Ecumenical Liberation Army.
They’re the ones who kidnapped
Mary Ann Gifford three weeks ago.
There’s a hell of a lot of
liberation armies in the
revolutionary underground and
a lot of kidnapped heiresses.
That’s Mary Ann Gifford --
This last in reference to the young white woman on
screen who is lugging a shopping bag as she joins a
line at a teller’s window --
DIANA
You mean, they actually shot
this film while they were ripping
off the bank?
HERRON
Yeah, wait’ll you see it. I
don’t know whether to edit or
leave it raw like this. That’s the
Great Ahmed Khan; he’s the leader --
ON SCREEN, the film has gone out of focus a couple of
times and bounced meaninglessly around the bank and
finally settled on a large, powerful black man at one
of the desks, presumably writing out a series of
deposit slips --
DIANA
This is terrific stuff. Where
did you get it?
HERRON
I got everything through Laureen
Hobbs. She’s my contact for
all this stuff.
DIANA
I thought she was straight
Communist Party.
HERRON
Right. But she’s trying to unify
all the factions in the
underground, so she knows
everybody.
ON SCREEN, the CAMERA has whooshed amateurishly about,
unfocuses and focuses again to pick up MARY ANN GIFFORD
bending over her shopping bag and pulling out a Czech
service submachine gun 9 Parabellum which she points to
the ceiling and apparently fires; the FILM is silent,
but the reactions of everyone around suggest clearly
something was fired. The FILM gets fragmented and
panicky about here, as does the activity in the bank.
The PHONE at MAX’s elbow BUZZES. MAX picks it up.
MAX
(on the phone, while
in b.g. a bank hold-
up goes on screen)
Yeah? ... All right, put him on --
26. INT. THE NIGHTLY NEWS ROOM - ROOM 517
HARRY HUNTER, on phone, is using an empty desk in the
main room. Normal news room activity in b.g. --
HARRY HUNTER
(on phone, leans back
to call into HOWARD’S
office)
Howard -- I’ve got Max on four,
would you pick up? --
27. INT. HOWARD’S OFFICE
HOWARD
(picking up phone)
Listen, Max, I’d like another
shot --
28. INT. SCREENING ROOM 7
The silent footage of the frenetic bank robbery is
still going on in b.g.
MAX
(on phone)
Oh, come on, Howard --
29. INT. HOWARD’S OFFICE
HOWARD
(on phone)
I don’t mean the whole show.
I’d just like to come on, make
some kind of brief farewell
statement and then turn the
show over to Jack Snowden. I
have eleven years at this
network, Max. I have some
standing in this industry.
I don’t want to go out like a
clown. It’ll be simple and
dignified. You and Harry
can check the copy
30. 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 --
31. 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 --
32. 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 --
33. 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.
34. 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 --
35. INT. PROGRAMMING DEPARTMENT - RECEPTION AREA
(Needless to say, there is no one at the receptionist’s
desk.) DIANA and HERRON head down --
36. 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 --
37. 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 --
38. INT. DIANA’S SECRETARY’S OFFICE
The SECRETARY hands a sheaf of telephone messages to
DIANA which she carries with her into --
39. 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.
40. 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 --
41. 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 --
42. 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 --
43. INT. UBS BUILDING - 5TH FLOOR CORRIDOR
MAX, steaming, strides down the corridor to --
44. INT. ROOM 509 - NEWS DIV. EXECUTIVE OFFICES
Empty except for perhaps one SECRETARY pecking away
at her typewriter. MAX strides across and into --
45. 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 --
46. 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 --
HARRY HUNTER
All right, cut him off.
The MONITOR SCREEN goes black.
MAX
(from the back wall)
Leave him on --
HOWARD’s image promptly flicks back on --
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
(looking O.S.)
Am I still on the air?
Everybody in the control room looks to MAX --
MAX
If this is how he wants to go out,
this is how he goes out.
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
I don’t know any other way to say
it except I just ran out of bull-
shit ...
The PHONE RINGS. HUNTER picks it up. ANOTHER PHONE
RINGS. HUNTER’S SECRETARY picks it up.
HUNTER
(on first phone)
Look, Mr. Schumacher’s right here,
do you want to talk to him?
(extends the phone to MAX)
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
Bullshit is all the reasons we give
for living, and, if we can’t think
up any reasons of our own, we always
have the God bullshit --
HUNTER’S SECRETARY
(awe)
Holy Mary Mother of Christ --
MAX
(on phone)
Yeah, what is it, Tom? --
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
We don’t know why the hell we’re
going through all this pointless
pain, humiliation and decay, so
there better be someone somewhere
who does know; that’s the God
bullshit --
MAX
(on phone)
He’s saying life is bullshit,
and it is, so what’re you
screaming about? --
He hangs up. The PHONE promptly RINGS again. HUNTER’S
SECRETARY picks it up. (HUNTER is on the phone that
rang before.)
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
If you don’t like the God bullshit,
how about the man bullshit? Man
is a noble creature who can order
his own world, who needs God?
HUNTER’S SECRETARY
(to MAX)
Mr. Amundsen for you, Mr. Schumacher.
MAX
I’m not taking calls.
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
Well, if there’s anybody out there
who can look around this demented
slaughterhouse of a world we live
in and tell me man is a noble
creature, that man is full of
bullshit --
DIRECTOR
(staring in awe at
HOWARD on the screen)
I know he’s sober, so he’s got to
be just plain nuts --
(starts to giggle)
HARRY HUNTER
(screaming)
What’s so goddam funny?
DIRECTOR
I can’t help it, Harry, it’s funny --
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
I don’t have any kids --
A PHONE RINGS. HUNTER’S SECRETARY picks it up.
HARRY HUNTER
Max, this is going out live to
sixty-seven affiliates --
MAX
Leave him on.
HOWARD (ON MONITOR)
-- and I was married for thirty-
three years of shrill, shrieking
fraud --
A breathless and distraught YOUNG WOMAN bursts into
the control room.
YOUNG WOMAN
Mr. Hackett’s trying to get through
to you --
MAX
Tell Mr. Hackett to go fuck himself --
47. INT. DIANA’S OFFICE
DIANA, sitting alone in her office, watching HOWARD
BEALE on her office console --
HOWARD (ON CONSOLE)
I don’t have any bullshit left.
I just ran out of it, you see --
48. INT. CONTROL ROOM - NETWORK NEWS SHOW
-- as FRANK HACKETT and his assistant, TOM CABELL,
wrench the door open and stride in --
HACKETT
(roaring)
Get him off! Are you people nuts?!
The TECHNICAL DIRECTOR taps a button, and the SCREEN
mercifully goes black.
49. INT. LOBBY - UBS BUILDING .
White-haired, patrician EDWARD RUDDY, Chairman of
the Board, impeccably groomed, fastidious in a light
topcoat, making his way through the absolute CRUSH
of NEWSPAPER PEOPLE, WIRE SERVICE PEOPLE, CAMERA CREWS
from CBS, NBC, ABC, from the local stations, WPIX,
WOR-TV, METROMEDIA, and from Channel 13, the educa-
tional channel. A half dozen SECURITY GUARDS protect
the elevators, and three more help RUDDY get through
the GLARING CAMERA LIGHTS and the horde of REPORTERS
thrusting mikes at him --
RUDDY
(moving through the crowd)
-- I’m sorry, I don’t have all the
facts yet --
50. INT. 20TH FLOOR - LOBBY, LOUNGE, CORRIDOR
MAX, standing by the deserted reception desk, in the
empty, silent lounge. This is the top-management floor,
and the decor, which is posh-austere, reflects the
eminence of the top executives who have their offices
here. It is all silent and empty now, cathedral,
hushed, echoing. Way down at the far end of the
corridor, the double doors of the corner office open,
and NELSON CHANEY leans out and beckons to MAX, who
starts down the plush carpeting in response --
51. INT. MR. RUDDY’S OFFICE
Large, regal. Impressionist originals on those walls
which are not glass through which the crepuscular
grandeur of New York at night can be seen. RUDDY sits
behind his desk. JOHN WHEELER, 59, silent, forceful,
lounges in one of the several leather chairs. The
door opens, and NELSON CHANEY and MAX SCHUMACHER come
in. Everybody nods at everybody else. MAX slumps
into a leather chair.
RUDDY
(murmurs to CHANEY)
I’ll want to see Mr. Beale after
this.
CHANEY promptly picks up a corner phone and calls down
to the Fourteenth Floor.
RUDDY
(regards MAX briefly,
murmurs)
The way I hear it, Max, you’re
primarily responsible for this
colossally stupid prank. Is
that the fact, Max?
MAX
That’s the fact.
RUDDY
It was unconscionable. There
doesn’t seem to be anything more
to say.
MAX
I have something to say, Ed.
I’d like to know why that whole
debasement of the News Division
announced at the stockholders’
meeting today was kept secret from
me. You and I go back twenty
years, Ed. I took this job with
your personal assurance that you
would back my autonomy against
any encroachment. But ever since
CCA acquired control of the UBS
Systems ten months ago, Hackett’s
been taking over everything. Who
the hell’s running this network,
you or some conglomerate called
CCA? I mean, you’re the Chairman
of the Systems Group, and Frank
Hackett’s just CCA’s hatchet man.
Nelson here -- for Pete’s sake, he’s
the president of the network -- he
hasn’t got anything to say about
anything anymore. Who the hell’s
running this company, you or CCA?
RUDDY
(murmurs)
I told you at the stockholders’
meeting, Max, that we would discuss
all that at our regular meeting
tomorrow morning. If you had been
patient, I would’ve explained to
you that I too thought Frank Hackett
precipitate and that the reorgani-
zation of the News Division would
not be executed until everyone,
specifically you, Max, had been
consulted and satisfied. Instead,
you sulked off like a child and
engaged this network in a shocking
and disgraceful episode. Your
position here is no longer tenable
regardless of how management is
restructured. I expect you to
bring in your resignation at ten
o’clock tomorrow morning, and we
will coordinate our statements to
the least detriment of everyone.
(to WHEELER)
Bob McDonough will take over the
News Division till we sort all
this out.
(WHEELER nods. RUDDY turns
to CHANEY still in the corner
of the room on the phone)
I’d like to see Mr. Beale now --
CHANEY
(on phone)
They’re looking for him, Ed. They
don’t know where he is --
52. INT. LOBBY - UBS BUILDING
HOWARD BEALE, bleached almost white by the GLARE of
the CAMERA LIGHTS, and almost totally obscured by the
tidal CRUSH of cameras, REPORTERS, SECURITY GUARDS
around him --
HOWARD
-- every day, five days a week,
for fifteen years, I’ve been
sitting behind that desk -- the
dispassionate pundit --
53. INT. DIANA’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM
DIANA, naked, sitting on the edge of her bed in a
dark bedroom, watching HOWARD BEALE’s impromptu press
conference on television --
HOWARD
(on TV screen)
-- reporting with seemly detachment
the daily parade of lunacies that
constitute the news -- and --
Also on the bed is a naked young STUD, who isn’t really
that interested in the 11:00 News. He is fondling,
fingering, noodling and nuzzling DIANA with the clear
intention of mounting her --
HOWARD
(on TV screen)
-- just once I wanted to say what
I really felt --
The young STUD is getting around to nibbling at DIANA’s
breasts --
DIANA
(watching the TV set
with single-minded
intensity)
Knock it off, Arthur --
54. EXT. UBS BUILDING - 9:00 A.M., THURSDAY, SEPT. 25 - DAY
Bright morning sunshine. DIANA, in a pants suit and
carrying half a dozen scripts, enters the building --
55. INT. UBS BUILDING - LOBBY
DIANA, pausing at the newsstand to pick up the morning
papers, which she reads en route to the elevators --
56. INT. UBS BUILDING - 14TH FLOOR - 9:15 A.M.
DIANA briskly enters through the door marked:
DEPARTMENT OF PROGRAMMING, and whisks off down the
corridor --
57. INT. PROGRAMMING DEPARTMENT - COMMON ROOM
DIANA crosses to her own office. THREE SECRETARIES,
including DIANA’s, are abuzz in a corner over last
night’s Howard Beale show. DIANA’S SECRETARY scurries
to follow DIANA as, in b.g., BARBARA SCHLESINGER comes
out of her office carrying four scripts --
58. INT. DIANA’S OUTER OFFICE
DIANA, rummaging through the papers on top of the
SECRETARY’s desk as the SECRETARY enters --
DIANA
Did the overnight ratings come
in yet?
SECRETARY
They’re on your desk.
DIANA
Have you still got yesterday’s
overnights around?
SECRETARY
Shall I bring them in?
DIANA
Yeah --
She exits into --
59. INT. DIANA’S OFFICE
Morning SUNLIGHT blasting in. DIANA moves to her
desk, stands behind it, scanning the front pages of
the newspapers piled on her desk, then sits and studies
the overnight ratings also on her desk. The SECRETARY
enters with yesterday’s overnights, a sheet of paper,
which she extends to DIANA, who promptly studies them.
The SECRETARY exits as BARBARA SCHLESINGER enters,
sinks onto a chair with a sigh --
SCHLESINGER
These are those four outlines
submitted by Universal for an hour
series. You needn’t bother to
read them. I’ll tell them to
you. The first one is set in a
large Eastern law school, pre-
sumably Harvard. The series is
irresistibly entitled The Young
Lawyers. The running characters
are a crusty but benign ex-Supreme
Court Justice, presumably Oliver
Wendell Holmes by way of Dr. Zorba.
There is a beautiful girl graduate
student and the local district
attorney who is brilliant and
sometimes cuts corners --
DIANA
(studying the overnights)
Next one --
SCHLESINGER
The second one is called The Amazon
Squad --
DIANA
(studying the overnights)
Lady cops?
SCHLESINGER
The running characters are a crusty
but benign police lieutenant who’s
always getting heat from the
Commissioner, a hard-nosed, hard-
drinking detective who thinks
women belong in the kitchen, and
a brilliant and beautiful young
girl cop fighting the feminist
battle on the force --
DIANA
(now studying the front
page of the Daily News)
We’re up to our ears in lady cop
shows.
SCHLESINGER
The next one is another investi-
gative reporter show. A crusty
but benign managing editor who’s
always getting heat from the
publisher --
DIANA
The Arabs have decided to jack up
the price of oil another twenty
per cent, and the C.I.A. has been
caught opening Senator Humphrey’s
mail, there’s a civil war in Angola,
another one in Beirut, New York City’s
facing default, they’ve finally caught
up with Patricia Hearst, and --
(she flips the Daily News over
so BARBARA can read it)
-- the whole front page of the Daily
News is Howard Beale.
ACROSS BARBARA SCHLESINGER, half-standing so she can
read the newspaper and showing the front page of the
Daily News -- which consists of a 3/4 page blowup of
HOWARD BEALE topped by a 52 point black banner headline:
-- BEALE FIRED --
DIANA
-- it was also a two-column story
on page one of the Times --
(calls to her SECRETARY)
Helen, call Mr. Hackett’s office,
see if he can give me a few minutes
this morning --
60. INT. ROOM 520 - THE NETWORK NEWS ROOM - 9:30 A.M.
MAX SCHUMACHER and BOB McDONOUGH (mid-40’s) enter.
The Network News Room is something less than Front
Page, but, nevertheless, a news room. It’s a long,
large, windowless room, some 40 desks, mostly
unoccupied, a wire room, typewriters and banks of
television monitors on the wall. At the moment,
work has stopped, and the ENTIRE PERSONNEL of the news
room, some 60 PEOPLE -- EXECUTIVES and SECRETARIES,
PRODUCERS, ASSISTANT PRODUCERS, HEAD WRITERS, WRITERS,
DUTY AND ASSIGNMENT EDITORS, and DESK ASSISTANTS,
ARTISTS, and FILM AND TAPE EDITORS, REPORTERS,
NEWSCASTERS and CAMERA AND AUDIO MEN -- are all
gathered, standing and sitting about to hear MAX say --
MAX
Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve been
at this network twelve years, and
it’s been on the whole a ball --
VOICE (in b.g.)
Louder --
MAX
(louder)
-- and I want to thank you all.
Bob McDonough here will be taking
over for me for the time being,
and, much as I hate to admit it,
I’m sure everything will go along
just fine without me --
61. INT. UBS BUILDING - 15TH FLOOR - 10:00 A.M.
DIANA turning into --
62. INT. HACKETT’S OUTER OFFICE
The SECRETARY waves DIANA straight into --
63. INT. HACKETT’S OFFICE
where HACKETT sits unhappily at his desk poring over
memos from his Stations Relations Department and
reports from his Sales Department.
HACKETT
(not bothering to
look up)
KTNS Kansas City refuses to carry
our network news any more unless
Beale is taken off the air --
DIANA
(drops the sheet of
paper on HACKETT’s
desk)
Did you see the overnights on the
Network News? It has an 8 in New
York and a 9 in L.A. and a 27 share
in both cities. Last night, Howard
Beale went on the air and yelled
bullshit for two minutes, and I
can tell you right now that tonight’s
show will get a 30 share at least.
I think we’ve lucked into something.
HACKETT
Oh, for God’s sakes, are you
suggesting we put that lunatic
back on the air yelling bullshit?
DIANA
Yes, I think we should put Beale
back on the air tonight and keep
him On. Did you see the Times
this morning? Did you see the
News? We’ve got press coverage
on this you couldn’t buy for a
million dollars. Frank, that dumb
show jumped five rating points in
one night! Tonight’s show has got
to be at least fifteen! We just
increased our audience by twenty
or thirty million people in one
night. You’re not going to get
something like this dumped in your
lap for the rest of your days, and
you just can’t piss it away!
Howard Beale got up there last
night and said what every American
feels -- that he’s tired of all the
bullshit. He’s articulating the
popular rage. I want that show,
Frank. I can turn that show into
the biggest smash in television.
HACKETT
What do you mean, you want that
show? It’s a news show. It’s not
your department.
DIANA
I see Howard Beale as a latter-day
prophet, a magnificent messianic
figure, inveighing against the
hypocrisies of our times, a strip
Savonarola, Monday through Friday.
I tell you, Frank, that could just
go through the roof. And I’m talking
about a six dollar cost per thousand
show! I’m talking about a hundred,
a hundred thirty thousand dollar
minutes! Do you want to figure out
the revenues of a strip show that
sells for a hundred thousand bucks
a minute? One show like that could
pull this whole network right out
of the hole! Now, Frank, it’s being
handed to us on a plate; let’s not
blow it!
HACKETT’s intercom BUZZES.
HACKETT
(on intercom)
Yes? ... Tell him I’ll be a few
minutes.
(clicks off, regards DIANA)
Let me think it over.
DIANA
Frank, let’s not go to committee
about this. It’s twenty after ten,
and we want Beale in that studio
by half-past six. We don’t want
to lose the momentum --
HACKETT
For God’s sakes, Diana, we’re
talking about putting a manifestly
irresponsible man on national
television. I’d like to talk to
Legal Affairs at least. And Herb
Thackeray and certainly Joe Donnelly
and Standards and Practices. And
you know I’m going to be eyeball
to eyeball with Mr. Ruddy on this.
If I’m going to the mat with Ruddy,
I want to make sure of some of my
ground. I’m the one whose ass is
going on the line. I’ll get back
to you, Diana.
64. INT. EXECUTIVE DINING ROOM - 12:20 P.M.
A large room of white-linened tables, almost empty
save for the five men at one of the window tables,
with the spectacular view of midtown Manhattan.
The five are FRANK HACKETT, NELSON CHANEY, WALTER
AMUNDSEN (General Counsel Network,) ARTHUR ZANGWILL
(VP Standards and Practices,) and JOE DONNELLY (VP
Sales).
CHANEY
(who is standing)
I don’t believe this! I don’t
believe the top brass of a national
television network are sitting
around their Caesar salads --
HACKETT
The top brass of a bankrupt national
television network, with projected
losses of close to a hundred and
fifty million dollars this year.
CHANEY
I don’t care how bankrupt! You
can’t seriously be proposing and
the rest of us seriously consider-
ing putting on a pornographic
network news show! The FCC will
kill us!
HACKETT
Sit down, Nelson. The FCC can’t
do anything except rap our knuckles.
CHANEY sits.
AMUNDSEN
I don’t even want to think about
the litigious possibilities, Frank.
We could be up to our ears in
lawsuits.
CHANEY
The affiliates won’t carry it --
HACKETT
The affiliates will kiss your ass
if you can hand them a hit show.
CHANEY
The popular reaction --
HACKETT
We don’t know the popular reaction.
That’s what we have to find out.
CHANEY
The New York Times --
HACKETT
The New York Times doesn’t advertise
on our network.
CHANEY
(stands)
All I know is that this violates
every canon of respectable broad-
casting.
HACKETT
We’re not a respectable network.
We’re a whorehouse network, and we
have to take whatever we can get.
CHANEY
Well, I don’t want any part of it.
I don’t fancy myself the president
of a whorehouse.
HACKETT
That’s very commendable of you,
Nelson. Now, sit down. Your
indignation has been duly recorded,
you can always resign tomorrow.
CHANEY sits.
HACKETT
Look, what in substance are we
proposing? -- merely to add
editorial comment to our network
news show. Brinkley, Sevareid,
and Reasoner all have their comments.
So now Howard Beale will have his.
I think we ought to give it a shot.
Let’s see what happens tonight.
DONNELLY
Well, I don’t want to be the
Babylonian messenger who has to
tell Max Schumacher about this.
HACKETT
(flagging a WAITER)
Max Schumacher doesn’t work at
this network any more. Mr. Ruddy
fired him last night.
(to the WAITER)
A telephone, please --
(to his COLLEAGUES)
Bob McDonoguh’s running the News
Division now --
A phone is placed before HACKETT, who promptly picks
it up and murmurs:
HACKETT
(on phone)
Bob McDonough in News, please --
65. INT. MAX’S OFFICE - 1:40 P.M.
MAX is on the phone and cleaning out his desk and
office at the same time. There are empty cartons
everywhere into which MAX is dumping his files. There
are piles of files on his desk, which he is skimming
through even as he talks on the phone --
MAX
(on phone)
-- I’m just fine financially,
Fred. I cashed in my stock
options back in April when CC
and A took over the network
(his other phone BUZZES)
That’s my other phone, Fred, thanks
for calling --
(hangs up, picks up
the other phone)
Max Schumacher . .. Hi, Dick,
how’s everything at NBC? --
HOWARD BEALE walks in, carrying an 8 x 12 photograph --
MAX
I don’t know, Dick. I might teach,
I might write a book, whatever the
hell one does when one approaches
the autumn of one’s years --
HOWARD puts the photograph on the desk in front of MAX.
MAX
(studying the photograph)
My God, is that me? Was I ever
that young?
(on phone)
Howard just showed me a picture
of the whole Ed Murrow gang when
I was at CBS. My God, Bob Trout,
Harry Reasoner, Cronkite, Hollenbeck,
and that’s you, Howard, right? --
I’ll see you, Dick --
Hangs up.
HOWARD
(points to the photo)
You remember this kid? He’s the
kid I think you once sent out to
interview Cleveland Amory on
vivisection --
MAX
(beginning to shake
with laughter)
That’s him -- that’s him --
They both begin wheezing with laughter. MILTON STEINMAN
pokes his head in --
STEINMAN
What the hell’s so funny?
66. INT. ROOM 509 - EXECUTIVE OFFICES, NEWS DIVISION
BOB McDONOUGH (VP Network News and interim head of the
division) enters, frowning. There is a clot of PEOPLE
spilling out from MAX SCHUMACHER’s office from whence
sounds of LAUGHTER and SHOUTING emanate. Even the
SECRETARIES have left their desks to share the fun.
McDONOUGH, wondering what the hell it’s all about,
makes his way through the CRUSH at the door, murmuring:
"Excuse me ... sorry, honey ... etc." When he finally
gets through the outer office and into --
67. INT. MAX’S OFFICE
-- what he sees is a room filled with News Executives
-- MAX, HOWARD, HARRY HUNTER, WALTER GIANINI (Legal
Affairs), MICHAEL SANDIES, MILTON STEINMAN, and a
COUPLE of younger PRODUCERS, delightedly listening to
this gang of middle-aged men remembering their maverick
days --
MAX
-- I jump out of bed in my pajamas!
I grab my raincoat, run down the
stairs, run out into the middle of
the street, flag a cab. I jump in,
I yell: "Take me to the middle of
the George Washington Bridge!" --
HOWL of LAUGHTER --
MAX
-- The driver turns around, he
says: "Don’t do it, kid, you
got your whole life ahead of you!"
The room ROCKS with LAUGHTER. When it subsides, BOB
McDONOUGH, standing in the doorway, says:
McDONOUGH
Well, if you think that’s funny,
wait’ll you hear this. I’ve
just come down from Frank
Hackett’s office, and he wants
to put Howard back on the air
tonight. Apparently, the ratings
jumped five points last night,
and he wants Howard to go back
on and do his angry-man thing.
STEINMAN
What’re you talking about?
McDONOUGH
I’m telling you -- they want
Howard to go on yelling bullshit.
They want Howard to go on
spontaneously letting out his
anger, a latter-day prophet,
denouncing the hypocrisies
of our times --
HOWARD
Hey, that sounds pretty good --
MAX
Who’s this they?
McDONOUGH
Hackett. Chaney was there, the
Legal Affairs guy, and that
girl from Programming.
MAX
Christenson? What’s she got to
do with it?
GIANINI (in b.g.)
You’re kidding, aren’t you, Bob?
McDONOUGH
I’m not kidding. I told them:
"We’re running a news department
down there, not a circus. And
Howard Beale isn’t a bearded lady.
And if you think I’ll go along
with this bastardization of the
news, you can have my resignation
along with Max Schumacher’s right
now. And I think I’m speaking
for Howard Beale and everybody
else down there in News.
HOWARD
Hold it, McDonough, that’s my
job you’re turning down. I’ll go
nuts without some kind of work.
What’s wrong with being an angry
prophet denouncing the hypocrisies
of our times? What do you think,
Max?
MAX
Do you want to be an angry prophet
denouncing the hypocrisies of
our times?
HOWARD
Yeah, I think I’d like to be
an angry prophet denouncing
the hypocrisies of our times.
MAX
Then grab it.
68. INT. 5TH FLOOR CORRIDOR - 3:00 P.M.
MR. RUDDY, slim, slight, white-haired, imperially
elegant in banker’s gray, comes down the corridor
towards Room 509. A VIDEOTAPE MAN, popping out of one
of the rooms that debouch off this corridor, quickly
stops, stands still --
VIDEOTAPE MAN
(murmurs)
Afternoon, Mr. Ruddy --
RUDDY
(murmurs)
Good afternoon.
He passes on towards --
69. INT. ROOM 509
as RUDDY enters. The SIX SECRETARIES pecking away at
their typewriters all pause to murmur awed --
SECRETARIES
Good afternoon, Mr. Ruddy --
Good afternoon, Mr. Ruddy -- etc.
-- as RUDDY passes through to --
70. INT. MAX’S OUTER OFFICE
where MITZI (MAX’S SECRETARY), at her desk, murmurs:
MITZI
He’s waiting for you, Mr. Ruddy --
RUDDY
(murmurs)
Thank you.
He goes into --
71. INT. MAX’S OFFICE
-- and closes the door.
RUDDY
Nelson Chaney tells me Beale may
actually go on the air this evening.
MAX
As far as I know, Howard’s going
to do it. Are you going to sit
still for this, Ed?
RUDDY
(takes a folded piece
of paper from his
inside jacket pocket)
Yes. I think Hackett’s overstepped
himself. There’s some kind of
corporate maneuvering going on,
Max. Hackett is clearly forcing
a confrontation. That would
account for his behavior at the
stockholders’ meeting. However,
I think he’s making a serious
mistake with this Beale business.
C. C. and A. would never make such
an open act of brigandage,
especially against the News
Division. They are specifically
enjoined against any manipulation
of the News Division in the
consent decree. I suspect C. C.
and A. will be upset by Hackett’s
presumptuousness, certainly Mr.
Jensen will. So I’m going to let
Hackett have his head for awhile.
He just might lose it over this
Beale business.
(places the paper
on MAX’s desk)
I’d like you to reconsider your
resignation.
(moves to the couch,
sits, crosses his legs,
murmurs)
I have to assume Hackett wouldn’t
take such steps without some
support on the C. C. and A. board.
I’ll have to go directly to Mr.
Jensen. When that happens, I’m
going to need every friend I’ve
got. And I certainly don’t want
Hackett’s people in all the
divisional positions. So I’d
like you to stay on, Max.
MAX
Of course, Ed.
RUDDY
(stands)
Thank you, Max.
He opens the door and leaves.
72. INT. MAX’S OFFICE - WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 1 - 7:00 P.M.
MAX sitting alone behind his desk in a dark office lit
only by his desk lamp, watching the Network News Show
starring HOWARD BEALE on his office console --
NARRATOR
The initial response to the new
Howard Beale was not auspicatory.
The press was without exception
hostile and industry reaction
negative. The ratings for the
Thursday and Friday show were
both 14 and with a 37 share,
but Monday’s rating dropped
two points, clearly suggesting
the novelty had worn off --
On the office console, HOWARD BEALE doesn’t seem too
much different than he had always been. He scowls,
frowns, seems to be muttering --
NARRATOR
-- Indeed, Howard Beale played
his new role of latter-day
prophet poorly. He was, after
all, a newsman, not an actor.
He was uncertain, uncomfortable,
sometimes inaudible. The general
feeling around the network was
that this new Howard Beale would
be aborted in a matter of days --
73. INT. MAX’S OFFICE - LATER
On the office console, the Network News Show has come
to an end; the CLOSING THEME MUSIC emerges into
SOUND, and the show’s CREDITS begin to roll. MAX
clicks off the set, folds his hands on the desk and
sits glumly regarding his folded hands. After a
moment, he becomes aware of another presence in the
room and looks to the doorway where DIANA CHRISTENSON
is standing, wearing a white blouse and dark slacks
and carrying her jacket and purse. If we haven’t
already noticed how attractive she is, we do now --
standing as she is, framed in the doorway, backlit
by the lights of the deserted common room, suddenly
sensuous, even voluptuous.
DIANA
(entering the office)
Did you know there are a number
of psychics working as licensed
brokers on Wall Street?
(she sits across from
MAX, fishes a cigarette
out of her purse)
Some of them counsel their clients
by use of Tarot cards. They’re
all pretty successful, even in a
bear market and selling short.
I met one of them a couple of
weeks ago and thought of doing
a show around her -- The Wayward
Witch of Wall Street, something
like that. But, of course, if
her tips were any good, she
could wreck the market. So I
called her this morning and
asked her how she was on
predicting the future. She said
she was occasionally prescient.
"For example", she said, "I
just had a fleeting vision of
you sitting in an office with
a craggy middle-aged man with
whom you are or will be
emotionally involved."
And here I am.
MAX
She does all this with Tarot cards?
DIANA
No, this one operates on
parapsychology. She has trance-
like episodes and feels things
in her energy field. I think
this lady can be very useful
to you, Max.
MAX
In what way?
DIANA
Well, you put on news shows,
and here’s someone who can
predict tomorrow’s news for you.
Her name, aptly enough, is Sibyl.
Sybil the Soothsayer. You could
give her two minutes of trance
at the end of a Howard Beale show,
say once a week, Friday, which is
suggestively occult, and she
could oraculate. Then next week,
everyone tunes in to see how
good her predictions were.
MAX
Maybe she could do the weather.
DIANA
(smiles)
Your network news show is going
to need some help, Max, if it’s
going to hold. Beale doesn’t
do the angry man thing well at
all. He’s too kvetchy. He’s
being irascible. We want a
prophet, not a curmudgeon. He
should do more apocalyptic doom.
I think you should take on a
couple of writers to write some
jeremiads for him. I see you
don’t fancy my suggestions.
MAX
Hell, you’re not being serious,
are you?
DIANA
Oh, I’m serious. The fact is,
I could make your Beale show the
highest-rated news show in
television, if you’d let me
have a crack at it.
MAX
What do you mean, have a crack
at it?
DIANA
I’d like to program it for you,
develop it. I wouldn’t interfere
with the actual news. But teevee
is show biz, Max, and even the
News has to have a little
showmanship.
MAX
My God, you are serious.
DIANA
I watched your six o’clock news
today -- it’s straight tabloid.
You had a minute and a half on
that lady riding a bike naked in
Central Park. On the other hand,
you had less than a minute of
hard national and international
news. It was all sex, scandal,
brutal crimes, sports, children
with incurable diseases and
lost puppies. So I don’t think
I’ll lis