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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