Scripts: Rear Window (final draft, 01/Dec/1953) - part 2
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT
The salesman looks toward the bedroom door, hesitates, then
reluctantly walks toward it. For a moment he is hidden by
the wall.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP
Jeff shifts his look more to the right.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT
The man enters the bedroom. We can see a woman lying on the
far bed. Near her, a small table is covered with medicine
bottles, spoons, boxes of pills, a water pitcher and the
other impedimenta of the chronically ill. The woman sits up
as the man enters. She takes a wet cloth off her forehead.
Before the man even reaches her, she begins talking, somewhat
vigorously. Pointing to a wristwatch, she seems to be saying
something such as "You should have been home two hours ago!
I could be lying here dying for all you'd know -- or care!"
The man stops short of the bed, makes gestures of trying to
placate her, but she goes on scolding. His attitude changes
to weary patience, then irritation, then anger.
He shouts back at her, turns and goes out of the room.
Back in the living room, he picks up his hat, throws it
against the wall in anger, and leaves the apartment, slamming
the door behind him.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - MEDIUM SHOT
Jeff's attention is suddenly diverted to himself. His leg,
under the cast, begins itching. He squirms, tries to move
the leg a little. It gives no relief. He scratches the outside
of the cast, but the itch gets worse. He reaches for a long,
Chinese back scratcher lying on the windowsill. Carefully,
and with considerable ingenuity, he works it under the cast.
He scratches, and a look of sublime relief comes over his
face. Satisfied, he takes the scratcher out. As he replaces
it on the windowsill, his attention is drawn back to the
scene outside the window.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT
We see the man who left his apartment in anger come out of
the doorway into the backyard. He is easy to identify through
the color of his garish necktie. In one hand the man carries
a small garden hoe and rake, and in the other a pair of
trimming shears. He goes to a small patch of flowers, perhaps
three feet square.
They are beautiful, multi-colored three foot high zinnias.
He kneels down, inspects them, touches them affectionately
and with some pride. His anger seems to have left him,
replaced by the kind of peace that flowers bring many people.
He stands up, carefully hoes the ground, them rakes it. Then
he snips a few leaves off the lower parts of the plant.
Finally, he waters them.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP
Jeff's attention is turned to something else of interest.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT
Into the next door yard we see emerging from the apartment
below the ballet dancer, the elderly lady.
She wear a broad sun hat, dark glasses, and a sunsuit
consisting of pink shorts and halter. She carries a copy of
the Herald Tribune, and still wears her hearing aid. She
settles into a folding, canvas deck chair.
Her skin is dead white, and her body is thin to the point of
emaciation. No sooner has she settled into her chair, than
she is attracted by the sound of the salesman working in his
garden. She gets up, walks to the fence, and looks over. He
notices her, but doesn't speak.
She begins gesturing to him how to take care of his flowers.
He listens for a moment, then looks directly at her. The
strong movements of his mouth show us that he objects
vigorously to the annoyance of her comments. She moves away
from the fence, started and a little shocked.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - MEDIUM SHOT
Jeff is seated in the foreground, in a waist shot.
Behind him, the entrance door to his apartment opens.
STELLA McGAFFERY comes in. She is a husky, unhandsome, dark-
haired woman who is dressed like a district nurse, with dark
coat, dark felt hat, with a white uniform showing underneath
the coat. She carries a small black bag.
Stella pauses on the landing to watch Jeff. He doesn't appear
to notice her entrance.
STELLA
(Loud)
The New York State sentence for a
peeping Tom is six months in the
workhouse!
He doesn't turn.
JEFF
Hello Stella.
As she comes down the stairs of the landing, holding on the
wrought iron railing with one hand:
STELLA
And there aren't any windows in the
workhouse.
She puts her bag down on a table. It is worn, and looks as
if it belongs more to a fighter than a nurse. She takes off
her hat coat, and hangs them on a chair.
STELLA
Years ago, they used to put out your
eyes with a hot poker. Is one of
those bikini bombshells you always
watch worth a hot poker?
He doesn't answer. She opens the bag, takes out some medical
supplies: a thermometer, a stop watch, a bottle of rubbing
oil, a can of powder, a towel. She talks as she works.
STELLA
We've grown to be a race of peeping
Toms. What people should do is stand
outside their own houses and look in
once in a while.
(She looks up at him)
What do you think of that for homespun
philosophy?
A look at his face shows he doesn't think much of it.
JEFF
Readers' Digest, April, 1939.
STELLA
Well, I only quote from the best.
She takes the thermometer out of its case, shakes it down.
Looks at it. Satisfied, she walks to Jeff.
She swings the wheelchair around abruptly to face her.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - MEDIUM SHOT
Jeff starts to protest.
JEFF
Now look, Stella --
She shoves the thermometer into his mouth.
STELLA
See it you can break a hundred.
As she leaves him holding the thermometer THE CAMERA PULLS
BACK as she crosses to a divan. She takes a sheet from
underneath, and covers the divan with it. Talking, all the
time.
STELLA
I shoulda been a Gypsy fortune teller,
instead of an insurance company nurse.
I got a nose for trouble -- can smell
it ten miles away.
(Stops, looks at him)
You heard of the stock market crash
in '29?
Jeff nods a bored "yes."
STELLA
I predicted it.
JEFF
(Around thermometer)
How?
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP
Stella stops for a moment, and looks at Jeff challengingly.
STELLA
Simple. I was nursing a director of
General Motors. Kidney ailment they
said. Nerves, I said. Then I asked
myself -- what's General Motors got
to be nervous about?
(Snaps her fingers)
Overproduction. Collapse, I answered.
When General Motors has to go to the
bathroom ten times a day -- the whole
country's ready to let go.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP
A patient, suffering look comes over his face. He takes out
the thermometer.
JEFF
Stella -- in economics, a kidney
ailment has no relationship to the
stock market. Absolutely none.
STELLA
It crashed, didn't it?
Jeff has no answer. Defeated, he puts the thermometer back
into his mouth.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP
Stella goes on with her work.
STELLA
I can smell trouble right in this
apartment. You broke your leg. You
look out the window. You see things
you shouldn't. Trouble. I can see
you now, in front of the judge,
flanked by lawyers in blue double-
breasted suits. You're pleading,
"Judge, it was only innocent fun. I
love my neighbors like a father." --
The Judge answers, "Congratulations.
You just gave birth to three years
in Dannemora."
THE CAMERA PANS HER over to him. She takes out the
thermometer, looks at it.
JEFF
Right now I'd even welcome trouble.
STELLA
(Flatly)
You've got a hormone deficiency.
JEFF
How can you tell that from a
thermometer!
STELLA
Those sultry sun-worshipers you watch
haven't raised your temperature one
degree in four weeks.
She gets down the thermometer. Sterilizes it with a piece of
alcohol-soaked cotton in her other hand.
She gets behind the wheelchair the CAMERA PULLS back as she
pushes it over to the divan. She puts the thermometer away
in its case. Then she helps him off with his pajama top. She
helps him stand on one foot.
He hops one step, then she lowers him, face down, on the
divan. She gets a bottle of rubbing oil.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSE SHOT
The CAMERA is very low at one end of the divan. Jeff's head,
half-buried in the sheet, is large in the fore-ground.
Beyond him Stella looms large and powerful-looking.
JEFF
I think you're right. There is going
to be some trouble around here.
Stella takes a handful of oil, slaps it on his back. He
winces.
STELLA
I knew it!
JEFF
Don't you ever heat that stuff up.
STELLA
Gives your circulation something to
fight.
(Begins massaging his
back)
What kind of trouble?
JEFF
Lisa Fremont.
STELLA
You must be kidding. A beautiful
young woman, and you a reasonably
healthy specimen of manhood.
JEFF
She expects me to marry her.
STELLA
That's normal.
JEFF
I don't want to.
STELLA
(Slaps cold oils on
him)
That's abnormal.
JEFF
(Wincing)
I'm not ready for marriage.
STELLA
Nonsense. A man is always ready for
marriage -- with the right girl. And
Lisa Fremont is the right girl for
any man with half a brain, who can
get one eye open.
JEFF
(Indifferent)
She's all right.
She hits him with some more cold oil. He winces again.
STELLA
Behind every ridiculous statement is
always hidden the true cause.
(Peers at him)
What is it? You have a fight?
JEFF
No.
STELLA
(After a pause)
Her father loading up the shotgun?
JEFF
Stella!
STELLA
It's happened before, you know! Some
of the world's happiest marriage
have started 'under the gun' you
might say.
JEFF
She's just not the girl for me.
STELLA
She's only perfect.
JEFF
Too perfect. Too beautiful, too
talented, too sophisticated, too
everything -- but what I want.
STELLA
(Cautiously)
Is what you want something you can
discuss?
Jeff gives an exasperated look.
JEFF
It's very simple. She belongs in
that rarefied atmosphere of Park
Avenue, expensive restaurants, and
literary cocktail parties.
STELLA
People with sense can belong wherever
they're put.
JEFF
Can you see her tramping around the
world with a camera bum who never
has more than a week's salary in the
bank?
(Almost to himself)
If only she was ordinary.
Stella sprinkles powder on his back, spreads it around.
THE CAMERA PULLS BACK as she helps Jeff to a sitting position.
He buttons on his shirt.
STELLA
You're never going to marry?
JEFF
Probably. But when I do, it'll be to
someone who thinks of life as more
than a new dress, a lobster dinner,
and the latest scandal. I need a
woman who'll go anywhere, do anything,
and love it.
THE CAMERA MOVES IN as she helps him into the wheelchair,
listening to him with exaggerated attention. He, stops as he
notice her attitude. Then he goes on with less conviction:
JEFF
The only honest thing to do is call
it off. Let her look for somebody
else.
STELLA
I can just hear you now. "Get out of
here you perfect, wonderful woman!
You're too good for me!"
JEFF
(After pause)
That's the hard part.
She swings him around in front of the window. He starts to
look out.
STELLA
Look, Mr. Jefferies. I'm not educated.
I'm not even sophisticated. But I
can tell you this -- when a man and
a woman see each other, and like
each other -- they should come
together -- wham like two taxies on
Broadway. Not sit around studying
each other like specimens in at
bottle.
JEFF
There's an intelligent way to approach
marriage.
STELLA
(Scoffing)
Intelligence! Nothing has caused the
human race more trouble. Modern
marriage!
Jeff swings his chair back to look at her.
JEFF
We've progressed emotionally in --
STELLA
(Interrupting)
Baloney! Once it was see somebody,
get excited, get married -- Now,
it's read books, fence with four
syllable words, psychoanalyze each
other until you can't tell a petting
party from a civil service exam
JEFF
People have different emotional levels
that --
STELLA
(Interrupting again)
Ask for trouble and you get it. Why
there's a good boy in my neighborhood
who went with a nice girl across the
street for three years. Then he
refused to marry her. Why? -- Because
she only scored sixty-one on a Look
Magazine marriage quiz!
Jeff can't help smiling.
STELLA
When I married Myles, we were both
maladjusted misfits. We still are.
And we've loved every minute of it.
JEFF
That's fine, Stella. Now would you
make me a sandwich?
She relaxes.
STELLA
Okay -- but I'm going to spread some
common sense on the bread. Lisa
Fremont's loaded to her fingertips
with love for you. I'll give you two
words of advice. Marry her.
JEFF
(Smiles)
She pay you much?
Stella leaves for the kitchen in a huff. Jeff turns his chair
to the window.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP
Jeff now looks out to see what has happened to the old lady,
and the man with the flowers.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT
The elderly lady is now asleep in her deck chair, her face
covered with the Herald Tribune. There is no sign of the man
with the flowers.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP
Jeff's eyes travel up to the ballet dancer's window.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT
She is sitting near the window looking into an upright mirror.
Dreamily, and methodically, she is brushing her long copper-
colored hair.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP
His eyes are suddenly turned in another direction, sharply
to his left.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT
He is now looking at the windows of the apartments nearest
to him. A shade has gone up, and a man, obviously a caretaker
is raising a window with some effort. Having accomplished
this, he turns back into the room, and we now see him approach
a young man and woman who are standing just inside the
doorway. He hands a key to the young man, and then obligingly
brings in two suitcases which he places on the floor beside
them. He gives them a studied, but agreeable nod, then
departs.
We now see that the girl has a small hat with a veil, and an
ornate corsage pinned to her light blue tailored suit. The
boy, who like the girl is perhaps twenty years old, wears a
dark blue serge suit and a grey felt hat. He takes off the
hat, and scales it over to a nearby chair. Quickly they are
in each other's arms, kissing passionately, crushing the
girl's corsage and pushing her hat back a little. They part,
the boy laughs nervously, and takes a furtive glance out
toward the corridor. He looks back into the room, and beckons
her to come out. She follows him wonderingly. For a moment,
both are lost from sight. When they reappear, he is carrying
her in his arms, over the threshold. He sets her down, closes
the door, and they kiss again.
They part, still holding hands and looking into each other's
eyes. Then slowly, and significantly, she looks toward the
open window. He releases her hands, goes to the window and
pull down the shade, as she is reaching upward with both
hands to unpin her hat.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP
There is a soft, understanding look on Jeff's face, and he
gives an involuntary sigh. He is unaware that Stella is now
standing behind him.
STELLA
(Quietly)
Window shopper.
He freezes, turns slowly to look up at her.
FADE OUT:
...continue to part 3
