{"id":13883,"date":"2017-04-03T07:33:43","date_gmt":"2017-04-03T16:33:43","guid":{"rendered":""},"modified":"-0001-11-30T00:00:00","modified_gmt":"-0001-11-29T15:00:00","slug":"","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/?p=13883","title":{"rendered":"[Movie Script]O Brother Where Art Thou"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><title>O Brother Where Art Thou? Script at IMSDb.<\/title><\/p>\n<p><meta name=\"description\" content=\"O Brother Where Art Thou? script\"><\/p>\n<p><meta name=\"keywords\" content=\"O Brother Where Art Thou? script, O Brother Where Art Thou? movie script, O Brother Where Art Thou? film script\"><\/p>\n<link href=\"\/style.css\" rel=\"stylesheet\" type=\"text\/css\">\n<table width=\"99%\" border=\"0\" cellspacing=\"0\" cellpadding=\"0\" class=\"body\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td valign=\"bottom\" bgcolor=\"#FF0000\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.imsdb.com\" title=\"The Internet Movie Script Database\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"\/images\/logo_top.gif\" border=\"0\"><\/a><\/td>\n<td bgcolor=\"#FF0000\">\n<center><br \/>\n<font color=\"#FFFFFF\"><\/p>\n<h1>The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)<\/h1>\n<p><\/font><br \/>\n<\/center> <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td background=\"\/images\/reel.gif\" height=\"13\" colspan=\"2\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.imsdb.com\" title=\"The Internet Movie Script Database\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"\/images\/logo_middle.gif\" border=\"0\"><\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td width=\"170\" valign=\"top\" class=\"smalltxt\"> <a href=\"http:\/\/www.imsdb.com\" title=\"The Internet Movie Script Database\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"\/images\/logo_bottom.gif\" width=\"170\" border=\"0\"><\/a> <br \/>\n<center><br \/>\n<span class=\"smalltxt\">The web&#8217;s largest <br \/>movie script resource!<\/span><br \/>\n<\/center> <\/td>\n<td> <script type=\"text\/javascript\"><!--\ngoogle_ad_client = \"pub-9108429103930209\";\n\/\/google_alternate_ad_url = \"http:\/\/www.filemania.com\/ad_fc728.html\";\ngoogle_ad_width = 728;\ngoogle_ad_height = 90;\ngoogle_ad_format = \"728x90_as\";\ngoogle_ad_channel =\"\";\ngoogle_ad_type = \"text\";\ngoogle_color_border = \"FFFFFF\";\ngoogle_color_bg = \"FFFFFF\";\ngoogle_color_link = \"0000FF\";\ngoogle_color_url = \"000000\";\ngoogle_color_text = \"000000\";\n\/\/--><\/script> <script type=\"text\/javascript\" src=\"http:\/\/pagead2.googlesyndication.com\/pagead\/show_ads.js\">\n<\/script> <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<p><\/p>\n<table width=\"99%\" cellpadding=\"2\" cellspacing=\"0\" class=\"\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td width=\"110\" valign=\"top\"> <\/td>\n<td>\n<table width=\"100%\" border=\"0\" cellpadding=\"5\" class=\"scrtext\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td class=\"scrtext\">   <script type=\"text\/javascript\" src=\"http:\/\/pagead2.googlesyndication.com\/pagead\/show_ads.js\">\n<\/script> <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<p><\/p>\n<table width=\"99%\" cellpadding=\"2\" cellspacing=\"0\" class=\"\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td width=\"110\" valign=\"top\"> <\/td>\n<td>\n<table width=\"100%\" border=\"0\" cellpadding=\"5\" class=\"scrtext\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td class=\"scrtext\">   <script type=\"text\/javascript\" src=\"http:\/\/pagead2.googlesyndication.com\/pagead\/show_ads.js\">\n<\/script> <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<p><\/p>\n<table width=\"99%\" cellpadding=\"2\" cellspacing=\"0\" class=\"\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td width=\"110\" valign=\"top\"> <\/td>\n<td>\n<table width=\"100%\" border=\"0\" cellpadding=\"5\" class=\"scrtext\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td class=\"scrtext\">   <script type=\"text\/javascript\" src=\"http:\/\/pagead2.googlesyndication.com\/pagead\/show_ads.js\">\n<\/script> <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<p><\/p>\n<table width=\"99%\" cellpadding=\"2\" cellspacing=\"0\" class=\"\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td width=\"110\" valign=\"top\"> <\/td>\n<td>\n<table width=\"100%\" border=\"0\" cellpadding=\"5\" class=\"scrtext\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td class=\"scrtext\">  <script>\n<!--\nif (window!= top)\ntop.location.href=location.href\n\/\/ -->\n<\/script> <title>&#8220;O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/title>  <\/p>\n<pre>\n\n\"O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU\"\n\nBy\n\nEthan Coen and Joel Coen\n\nBLACK\n\nIn black, we hear a chain-gang chant, many voices together,\nspaced around the unison strike of picks against rock. A\ntitle burns in:\n\nO muse!\nSing in me, and through me tell the story\nOf that man skilled in all the ways of contending...\nA wanderer, harried for years on end...\n\nOn the sound of an impact we cut to:\n\nA PICK\n\nsplitting a rock.\n\nAs the chant continues, wider angles show the chain-gang at\nwork. They are black men in bleached and faded stripes,\nchained together, working under a brutal midday sun.\n\nIt is flat delta countryside; the straight-ruled road\nstretches to infinity. Mounted guards with shotguns lazily\npatrol the line.\n\nThe chain-gang chant is regular and, it seems, timeless.\n\nWe slowly fade out, returning to\n\nBLACK\n\nThe last of the voices fades.\n\nAfter a long beat we hear the guitar introduction to Harry\nMcClintock's 'The Big Rock Candy Mountain.'\n\nA WHEAT FIELD\n\nA road cuts across the middle background. Noonday sun beats\ndown.\n\nWe hear the distant picks and shovels of men at work and\nsee, rising above ground level, the occasional upraised pick\nand spade heaving dirt. Men are digging a ditch alongside\nthe road.\n\nAfter a long beat, three men pop up in the wheat field in\nthe middle foreground. They wear faded stripes and grey duck-\nbilled caps. They scurry abreast toward the camera, throwing\nan occasional glance back at the ditch-diggers. A clanking\nsound accompanies their run. Oddly, the wheat between them\nsweeps down as they run. After a brief sprint they drop back\ndown into the wheat.\n\nIn the background a man enters frame left, strolling along\nthe road, wearing a khaki uniform and sunglasses, a shotgun\nresting against one shoulder. He glances idly down into the\nditch and strolls on out of frame right.\n\nThe three men rise back up from the wheat and, clanking,\nresume their sprint.\n\nTHREE PAIRS OF EYES\n\nThey are topped by three cap bills, and peer out from behind\na blind of greenery. We hear distant whistling.\n\nThe men are looking at a weathered barn. A young boy,\nwhistling, is heading down the road that leads away from the\nbarn, jiggling the traces of the old plough horse that leads\nhim. He turns a corner and is gone.\n\nBARNYARD\n\nThe three clanking men (we can now see their leg irons) are\nawkwardly chasing a chicken around the yard. The squawking\nyardbird doesn't need to move much to elude the three bunched\nmen.\n\nCOUNTRY LANE\n\nIt curves in a gentle S into the background. It is sun-\ndappled, pretty.\n\nWe hear clanking footsteps approaching at a trot.\n\nThe three men enter in the foreground and trot on down the\nlane. The leftmost has a flapping chicken tucked under one\narm.\n\nAFTERNOON CAMPFIRE\n\nThe three men sit in a side-by-side arc around a dying fire,\none of them contentedly picking his teeth with a small chicken\nbone, another wiping grease off his chin with a sleeve, the\nthird idly poking at the fire with a spit.\n\nEach of them, still bound by chains, clinks as he moves.\n\nOne of them abruptly cocks his head, listening.\n\nThe others notice his attitude and also freeze, listening.\n\nWe hear the distant baying of hounds.\n\nROLLING HILLS\n\nFrom high on a ridge we see the three chained men running\ntoward us.\n\nIn addition to their clanks we hear a distant chugging sound.\n\nTRACKING\n\nLaterally with the clanking, running feet.\n\nThe chugging sound is very loud.\n\nRUNNING\n\nNext to a freight train. A boxcar door is open.\n\nINSIDE THE BOXCAR\n\nThe lead convict hooks an elbow in and starts hauling himself\nup, his two clanking friends keeping pace outside.\n\nSix hobos sit in the boxcar, lounging against sacks of\nO'Daniel's Flour. They impassively watch the convict clamber\nin as his two confederates run to keep up.\n\nThe convict hauls himself to his feet. In spite of his stubble\nhe has carefully tended hair and a pencil mustache. He is\nEverett.\n\nAs he dusts himself off:\n\nEVERETT\nSay, uh, any a you boys smithies?\n\nThe hobos stare.\n\nEverett gives an ingratiating smile as, behind him, the second\nconvict starts to haul himself into the boxcar, the third\nconvict still keeping pace outside.\n\nEVERETT\nOr, if not smithies per se, were you\notherwise trained in the metallurgic\narts before straitened circumstances\nforced you into a life of aimless\nwanderin'?\n\nThe convict running outside the boxcar door stumbles and\ndisappears and the middle convict is yanked out immediately\nafter. Everett, just finishing his speech, flips forward in\nturn, smashes his chin onto the floor and is sucked out the\nopen doorway, his clawing fingernails leaving parallel grooves\non the boxcar floorboards.\n\nThe hobos impassively watch.\n\nOUTSIDE\n\nThe three men tumble, clanking, down the track embankment.\n\nSquush - they come to a rest in swampland at the bottom.\n\nThey shake their heads clear, then rise to their feet in the\nmuck and watch the train recede.\n\nIts fading clatter leaves the baying of hounds.\n\nEVERETT\nJesus - can't I count on you people?\n\nThe second con is Delmar.\n\nDELMAR\nSorry, Everett.\n\nEverett looks desperately about.\n\nEVERETT\nAll right - if we take off through\nthat bayou-\n\nThe third con, Pete, bald but also with beard stubble, angrily\ncuts in.\n\nPETE\nWait a minute! Who elected you leader\na this outfit?\n\nEVERETT\nWell, Pete, I just figured it should\nbe the one with capacity for abstract\nthought. But if that ain't the\nconsensus view, hell, let's put her\nto a vote!\n\nPETE\nSuits me! I'm votin' for yours truly!\n\nEVERETT\nWell I'm votin' for yours truly too!\n\nBoth men look interrogatively to Delmar.\n\nHe looks from Pete to Everett, and nods agreeably.\n\nDELMAR\nOkay - I'm with you fellas.\n\nEverett makes a sudden hushing gesture and all listen.\n\nThe baying of hounds is louder now, but through it we hear a\ndistant scrape of metal against metal, like the workings of\na rusty pump. The men turn in unison to look up the track.\n\nA small, distant form is moving slowly up the track toward\nthem.\n\nAs it draws closer it resolves into a human-propelled flatcar.\nAn ancient black man rhythmically pumps its long seesaw\nhandle.\n\nThe three convicts look out at the swampland which begins to\nshow movement, the bowing grass trampled by men and dogs.\n\nThe flatcar draws even and slows.\n\nEVERETT\nMind if we join you, ol' timer?\n\nOLD MAN\nJoin me, my sons.\n\nThe three men clamber aboard and the old man resumes pumping.\n\nThe three men exchange glances; Delmar waves a clanking hand\nbefore the old man's milky eyes. No reaction.\n\nDELMAR\nYou work for the railroad, grandpa?\n\nOLD MAN\nI work for no man.\n\nPETE\nGot a name, do ya?\n\nOLD MAN\nI have no name.\n\nEVERETT\nWell, that right there may be why\nyou've had difficulty finding gainful\nemployment. Ya see, in the mart of\ncompetitive commerce, the-\n\nOLD MAN\nYou seek a great fortune, you three\nwho are now in chains...\n\nThe men fall silent.\n\nOLD MAN\nAnd you will find a fortune - though\nit will not be the fortune you seek...\n\nThe three convicts, faces upturned, listen raptly to the\nblind prophet.\n\nOLD MAN\n...But first, first you must travel\na long and difficult road - a road\nfraught with peril, uh-huh, and\npregnant with adventure. You shall\nsee things wonderful to tell. You\nshall see a cow on the roof of a\ncottonhouse, uh-huh, and oh, so many\nstartlements...\n\nThe cloudy eyes of the old man stare sightlessly down the\ntrack as the seesaw handle rises and falls through frame.\n\nOLD MAN\n...I cannot say how long this road\nshall be. But fear not the obstacles\nin your path, for Fate has vouchsafed\nyour reward.  And though the road\nmay wind, and yea, your hearts grow\nweary, still shall ye foller the\nway, even unto your salvation.\n\nThe old man pumps - reek-a reek-a reek-a - as all contemplate\nhis words.\n\nLoud and sudden:\n\nOLD MAN\nIZZAT CLEAR?\n\nThe men start, then mumble polite acknowledgement.\n\nThe railroad tracks wind to the setting sun. Reek-a reek-a\nreek-a - the flatcar rolls, in wide shot, toward the golden\nhorizon.\n\nFADE OUT\n\nDAY\n\nA hot dusty road leading up to a lone farmhouse.\n\nThe three men walk, clanking and abreast.\n\nDELMAR\nHow'd he know about the treasure?\n\nEVERETT\nDon't know, Delmar-though the blind\nare reputed to possess sensitivities\ncompensatin' for their lack of sight,\neven to the point of developing para-\nnormal psychic powers. Now clearly,\nseein' the future would fall neatly\ninto that ka-taggery. It's not so\nsurprising, then, if an organism\ndeprived of earthly vision-\n\nPETE\nHe said we wouldn't get it! He said\nwe wouldn't get the treasure we seek!\n\nEverett grows testy:\n\nEVERETT\nWell what does he know - he's an\nignorant old man! Jesus, Pete, I'm\ntelling you I buried it myself, and\nif your cousin still runs this-here\nhorse farm and has a forge and some\nshoein' impediments to restore our\nliberty of movement-\n\nBang! A rifle shot kicks up dust in front of the men.\n\nCHILD'S VOICE\nHold it rah chair!\n\nThe front of the farm house shows only a harshly shaded front\nporch and a dark screen door.\n\nThe screen door swings open and a child emerges on to the\nporch and steps down into the sunlight, holding a gun almost\nbigger than he is. The grimy-faced boy, about eight years\nold, wears tattered overalls.\n\nCHILD\nYou men from the bank?\n\nPETE\nYou Wash's boy?\n\nCHILD\nYassir! And Daddy tolt me I'm to\nshoot whosoever from the bank!\n\nHe pokes his rifle at the three men, who raise their hands.\n\nDELMAR\nWell, we ain't from no bank, young\nfeller.\n\nCHILD\nYassir! I'm also suppose to shoot\nfolks servin' papers!\n\nDELMAR\nWell we ain't got no papers.\n\nCHILD\nYassir! I nicked the census man!\n\nDELMAR\nThere's a good boy. Is your daddy\nabout?\n\nTHE BACK OF THE HOUSE\n\nWash Hogwallop, a sour-looking bald man, sits near a rusted\nbathtub in a yard littered with ancient car parts and farm\nimplements overgrown with weeds. He is whittling artlessly\nat a stick.\n\nHe glances up as the three convicts clank around the corner,\nthen returns to his whittling.\n\nWASH\n'Lo, Pete. Hooor yer friends?\n\nEVERETT\nPleased to make your acquaintance,\nMister Hogwallop. M'name's Ulysses\nEverett McGill.\n\nDELMAR\n'N I'm Delmar O'Donnell.\n\nPETE\nHow ya been, Wash? Been what, twelve,\nthirteen year'n?\n\nStill looking sourly at his whittling:\n\nWASH\nYou've grown chatty.\n\nHe tosses the stick aside and sighs.\n\nWASH\nI expect you'll want them chains\nknocked off.\n\nTHE HOGWALLOP KITCHEN\n\nThe four men and little boy sit around the kitchen table\neating stew. A Sears Roebuck catalogue on the boy's chair\nbrings him to table height. The cons are now rid of their\nchains and are dressed in ill-fitting farmer's wear.\n\nWASH\n\nThey foreclosed on Cousin Vester. He hanged himself a year\ncome May.\n\nPETE\nAnd Uncle Ratliff?\n\nWASH\nThe anthrax took most of his cows.\nThe rest don't milk, and he lost a\nboy to mumps.\n\nPETE\nWhere's Cora, Cousin Wash?\n\nWash glances at the little boy.\n\nWASH\nCouldn't say. Mrs. Hogwallop up and\nR-U-N-N-O-F-T.\n\nEVERETT\nMm. Must've been lookin' for answers.\n\nWASH\nPossibly. Good riddance, far as I'm\nconcerned...\n\nThe three men slurp their stew.\n\nWASH\nI do miss her cookin' though.\n\nDELMAR\nThis stew's awful good.\n\nWASH\nThink so?\n\nHe sniffs dubiously at his spoon.\n\nWASH\nI slaughtered this horse last Tuesday;\n'm afraid she's startin' to turn.\n\nLIVING ROOM\n\nLater. The four men sit about listening to a big box radio.\nWash is whittling once again; Everett dips his comb into a\npomade jar and carefully works on his hair; Pete is digging\naround with a toothpick; Delmar dreamily waves one hand in\ntime to the music.\n\nThe music ends.\n\nANNOUNCER\nWell, that's the last number for\ntonight's 'Pass the Biscuits Pappy\nO'Daniel Flour Hour.' This is Pappy\nO'Daniel, hopin' you folks been\nenjoyin' that good old-timey music,\nand remember, when you're fixin' to\nfry up some flapjacks or bake a mess\na biscuits, use cool clear water and\ngood pure Pappy O'Daniel flour for\nthat 'Pass the Biscuits, Pappy'\nflavor.  So tune in next week folks,\nand till then whyncha turn to your\nbetter half and sing along with Pappy:\n'You are my sunshine, my only\nsunshine...'\n\nEverett clears his throat.\n\nEVERETT\nWell, guess I'll be turning in...\n\nHe screws the lid back on the pomade.\n\nEVERETT\nSay, Cousin Wash, I guess it'd be\nthe acme of foolishness to inquire\nif you had a hairnet.\n\nWASH\nGot a bunch in yon byurra.  Mrs.\nHogwallop's, matter of fact.\nHepyaseff; I won't be needin' 'em.\n\nTHE THREE MEN\n\nSleeping in a hayloft. Everett wears a hairnet over his\npainstakingly arranged hair.\n\nPete snores on the inhale. Delmar whistles on the exhale.\n\nA spotlight plays over the hayloft ceiling and a voice booms:\n\nBULLHORN VOICE\nAll right boys, itsy authorities.\n\nThe three men rouse themselves.\n\nBULLHORN VOICE\nWe gotcha surrounded. Just come on\nout grabbin' air!\n\nEverett shrugs his shoulders and peeks down into the barnyard.\n\nEVERETT\nDamn! We're in a tight spot!\n\nFrom high we see a foreshortened lawman holding a bullhorn\nsurrounded by armed deputies.\n\nNext to the man with the bullhorn, a tin-starred sheriff\nwatches impassively through mirrored sunglasses, a bloodhound\ndrooling at his side.\n\nMAN WITH BULLHORN\nAnd don't try nothin' fancy - your\nsitchy-ation is purt nigh hopeless.\n\nDELMAR\nWhat inna Sam Hill...?\n\nEVERETT\nPete's cousin turned us in for the\nbounty!\n\nPETE\nThe hell you say! Wash is kin!\n\nAn unamplified voice echoes up from the yard:\n\nVOICE\nSorry Pete! I know we're kin! But\nthey got this Depression on, and I\ngotta do fer me and mine!\n\nPete screams down from the hayport:\n\nPETE\nI'M GONNA KILL YOU, JUDAS ISCARIOT\nHOGWALLOP! YOU MIS'ABLE HOSS-EATIN'\nSONOFABITCH! YOU-\n\nRAT-A-TAT-A-TAT- Everett pulls Pete down as a tommy gun spits\nlead into the hayloft.\n\nEVERETT\nDamn! We're in a tight spot!\n\nPete is enraged:\n\nPETE\nDamn his eyes! Pa always said never\ntrust a Hogwallop-COME'N GET US,\nCOPPERS!\n\nBULLHORN VOICE\nSo be it! You boys're leavin' us no\nchoice but to smoke you out.\n\nEVERETT\nOh no! Lord have mercy!\n\nMen approach the barn with torches.\n\nDELMAR\nWhat do we do now, Everett?\n\nEVERETT\nFire! I hate fire!\n\nPETE\nYOU LOUSY TIN-WEARIN' MOTHERLESS\nBARNBURNIN' COCKROACHES-\n\nEverett cuts in, his voice breaking:\n\nEVERETT\nNOW HOLD ON, BOYS-AINTCHA EVER HEARD\nOF A NEGOTIATION? MAYBE WE CAN TALK\nTHIS THING OUT!\n\nDELMAR\nYeah, let's negotiate 'em, Everett.\n\nThe hayloft is filling with smoke. Flames lick downstairs.\n\nPETE\nYOU LOUSY YELLA-BELLIED LOW-DOWN\nSKUNKS-\n\nEVERETT\nNow hold on, Pete, we gotta speak\nwith one voice here - CAREFUL WITH\nTHAT FIRE NOW, BOYS!\n\nPete grabs a flaming faggot and hurls it down at the deputized\ncongregation.\n\nIt lands harmlessly in some scattered straw.\n\nBULLHORN VOICE\nYou choose it, boys - the prison\nfarm or the pearly gates!\n\nThe straw curls, lights, and the fire scuttles over to a\nparked Black Maria.\n\nWith a loud airy WHOOOF! the undercarriage of the police van\npops into flame.\n\nThe man with the bullhorn sees it.\n\nMAN WITH BULLHORN\nHoly Saint Christopher - OUTA THAT\nVEHICLE, CHAMP, SHE'S LICKIN' FAR!\n\nTommy guns are stored in the back of the van. The drum of\none starts spinning.\n\nFlames lick up the outside of the van as - chinka-chinka-\nchinka - bullet holes walk across the body.\n\nMAN WITH BULLHORN\nTake cover, boys, THAT AIN'T POPCORN!\n\nYelling men scurry away.\n\nThe vehicle rocks and chatters under the force of the many\ntommy guns now firing inside. Tires pop, hiss and settle;\ndoors pop open; glass shatters.\n\nVOICES\nWho's that?\n\nAn oncoming car is bouncing crazily across the yard, horn\nblaring. Deputies leap out of its path.\n\nThe car shoots past the chattering van which still bucks and\nbounces on its shocks, its interior strobing and flashing as\nif filled with trapped lightning.\n\nThe speeding car heads directly for the flaming barn door\nand crashes through in a shower of sparks.\n\nThe car brakes inside the barn and the driver's door flies\nopen. The little Hogwallop boy yells over the roar of the\nflames:\n\nBOY\nCome on, boys! I'm gonna R-U-N-N-O-F-\nT!\n\nPete, Everett and Delmar pile in.\n\nDELMAR\nYou should be in bed, little fella.\n\nThe doors slam shut and the boy grinds into gear. He has\nwood blocks strapped to his feet so that he can reach\naccelerator, brake and clutch. He sits on a Sears Roebuck\ncatalogue to give him a view over the dash.\n\nBOY\nYou ain't the boss a me!\n\nThe car speeds for the far wall, sheeted in flame, and bursts\nthrough.\n\nCOUNTRY ROAD - DAY\n\nThe little Hogwallop boy walks away in long shot down the\nmiddle of the empty road. His walk is unsteady, the wood\nblocks still strapped to his feet.\n\nHe turns to face us and hollers:\n\nBOY\nYou candy-butted car-thievin' so's\n'n so's! I curse yer names!\n\nPete enters in the foreground and throws a dirt clod at the\nboy. It lands shy as Pete yells:\n\nPETE\nGo back home'n mind yer pa!\n\nWe pan Pete over to the shoulder where the car is stopped,\nits hood propped open. Everett and Delmar are looking at the\nengine.\n\nPETE\nWhat's the damn problem?\n\nDRYGOODS STORE\n\nThe proprietor is a bespectacled middle-aged man wearing\nsleeve garters and a visor. Behind him are stacked, among\nother necessaries, sacks of O'Daniel Flour. He pushes a small\ntin across the counter.\n\nPROPRIETOR\nI can get the part from Bristol;\nit'll take two weeks. Here's your\npomade.\n\nEverett is stunned.\n\nEVERETT\nTwo weeks! That don't do me no good!\n\nPROPRIETOR\nNearest Ford auto man's Bristol.\n\nEverett picks up the tin.\n\nEVERETT\nHold on there - I don't want this\npomade, I want Dapper Dan.\n\nPROPRIETOR\nI don't carry Dapper Dan. I carry\nFop.\n\nEVERETT\nNo! I don't want Fop! Goddamnit - I\nuse Dapper Dan!\n\nPROPRIETOR\nWatch your language, young fellow,\nthis is a public market. Now, if you\nwant Dapper Dan I can order it for\nyou, have it in a couple of weeks.\n\nEVERETT\nWell, ain't this place a geographical\noddity-two weeks from everywhere!\nForget it! Just the dozen hairnets!\n\nPETE AND DELMAR\n\nOn a wooded hillside. They sit at a twig fire, roasting a\nsmall creature on a spit.\n\nEVERETT (O.S.)\nIt didn't look like a one-horse\ntown...\n\nHe stalks into frame and plops disgustedly down by the fire.\n\nEVERETT\n...but try getting a decent hair\njelly.\n\nDELMAR\nGopher, Everett?\n\nEVERETT\nAnd no transmission belt for two\nweeks neither.\n\nPETE\nHuh?! They dam that river on the\n21st.  Today's the 17th!\n\nEVERETT\nDon't I know it.\n\nPETE\nWe got but four days to get to that\ntreasure! After that, it'll be at\nthe bottom of a lake!\n\nHe grimly shakes his head.\n\nPETE\nWe ain't gonna make it walkin'.\n\nDELMAR\nGopher, Everett?\n\nEverett has taken out a can of near-empty Dapper Dan. He\nscrapes the last of it onto his comb and starts combing his\nhair.\n\nWe hear distant singing - one lone tenor voice.\n\nEVERETT\nWell, you're right there, but the\nol' tactician's already got a plan-\n\nEverett fishes a gold watch from his pocket and tosses it to\nPete.\n\nEVERETT\n-for the transportation, that is; I\ndon't know how I'm gonna keep my\ncoiffure in order.\n\nPete looks at the watch, puzzled.\n\nPETE\nHow's this a plan? How're we gonna\nget a car?\n\nEVERETT\nSell that. I figured it could only\nhave painful associations for Wash.\n\nPete pops the front and reads the inscription.\n\nPETE\nTo Washington Bartholomew Hogwallop.\nFrom his loving Cora. Ay-More Fie-\ndellis.\n\nEVERETT\nIt was in his bureau.\n\nHe screws the lid back on the pomade.\n\nDelmar whistles appreciatively.\n\nDELMAR\nYou got light fingers, Everett.\nGopher?\n\nPETE\nYou mis'able little sneak thief...\n\nHe lurches threateningly to his feet.\n\nPETE\nYou stole from my kin!\n\nEverett scrambles up.\n\nEVERETT\nWho was fixing to betray us!\n\nPETE\nYou didn't know that at the time!\n\nEVERETT\nSo I borrowed it till I did know!\n\nPETE\nThat don't make no sense!\n\nEVERETT\nPete, it's a fool looks for logic in\nthe chambers of the human heart.\nWhat the hell's that singing?\n\nWe can make out the words now, sung by the lone tenor.\n\nVOICE\nOh Brothers, let's go down, come on\ndown, don't you wanna go down...\n\nPeople in white robes are drifting down the hill, through\nthe woods behind the campsite. They join in with the lead\nvoice:\n\nVOICES\nOh Brothers, let's go down, down to\nthe river to pray...\n\nDelmar gazes wonderingly at the white-robed figures as he\nanswers Everett:\n\nDELMAR\nAppears to be... some kinda... con-\ngur-gation. Care for some gopher?\n\nEverett too watches the white-robed people following in the\nwake of the tenor. He answers absently:\n\nEVERETT\nNo, thank you Delmar - a third of a\ngopher would only rouse my appetite\nwithout beddin' her back down.\n\nThere are more and more white robes drifting through the\nwoods, all of them strangely oblivious to the three men.\n\nDELMAR\nYou can have the whole thing - me'n\nPete already had one...\n\nThere is an endless stream now, drifting through the\nforeground, the background, the campsite itself.\n\nVOICES\nOh, sisters, let's go down, come on\ndown, don't you want to go down...\n\nDELMAR\nWe ran acrost a gopher village...\n\nThe drifting worshipers wear beatific expressions. One only,\na middle-aged woman, notices the three convicts around whom\nthe rest of the flock blindly drifts. She calls to them:\n\nWOMAN\nCome with us, brothers! Join us and\nbe saved!\n\nTHE RIVER\n\nWhite robes stream down the hill, out of the woods, and down\nthe riverbank. The voices swell in a great chorus:\n\nVOICES\nWe went down to the river one day,\nStudying about that good old way,\nAnd who shall wear that robe and\ncrown, Oh Lord, show us the way...\n\nWe are booming down to reveal a minister in the foreground.\nHe stands belly-deep in the river, easing a white-robed man\nback-down into the water. Behind him a line of robed singers\nlengthens steadily as people stream out of the woods.\n\nPete, Delmar and Everett emerge from the woods and gaze down\nat the river. White-robed people continue to drift past them.\n\nEVERETT\nI guess hard times flush the chumps.\nEverybody's lookin' for answers, and\nthere's always-\n\nDelmar wades out into the stream, cutting in line.\n\nEVERETT\nWhere the hell's he goin'?\n\nDelmar has reached the minister and holds his nose as the\nminister incantates over him and lowers him into the water.\n\nPETE\nWell, I'll be a sonofabitch. Delmar's\nbeen saved!\n\nEVERETT\nPete, don't be ignorant-\n\nDelmar is slogging back through the water.\n\nDELMAR\nWell that's it boys, I been redeemed!\nThe preacher warshed away all my\nsins and transgressions. It's the\nstraight-and-narrow from here on out\nand heaven everlasting's my reward!\n\nEVERETT\nDelmar what the hell are you talking\nabout? - We got bigger fish to fry-\n\nDELMAR\nPreacher said my sins are warshed\naway, including that Piggly Wiggly I\nknocked over in Yazoo!\n\nEVERETT\nI thought you said you were innocent\na those charges.\n\nDELMAR\nWell I was lyin' - and I'm proud to\nsay that that sin's been warshed\naway too!  Neither God nor man's got\nnothin' on me now! Come on in, boys,\nthe water's fine!\n\nLATER\n\nThe smoldering twig fire. A bloodhound on a leash circles\ninto frame, its tail fiercely wagging.\n\nWe follow it as, nose to the ground and straining against\nits leash, it waddles over to an empty tin of Dapper Dan\npomade.\n\nA VOICE\nAll tight, boys! We got the scent!\n\nA CAR\n\nEverett drives, shaking his head with a forebearing smile.\nPete, sitting next to him, and Delmar, in back, are both\ndripping wet.\n\nPete is sullen:\n\nPETE\nThe preacher said it absolved us.\n\nEVERETT\nFor him, not for the law! I'm\nsurprised at you, Pete. Hell, I gave\nyou credit for more brains than\nDelmar.\n\nDELMAR\nBut there were witnesses, saw us\nredeemed!\n\nEVERETT\nThat's not the issue, Delmar. Even\nif it did put you square with the\nLord, the State of Mississippi is\nmore hardnosed.\n\nDELMAR\nYou should a joined us, Everett. It\ncouldn't a hurt none.\n\nPETE\nHell, at least it woulda washed away\nthe stink of that pomade.\n\nEVERETT\nJoin you two ignorant fools in a\nridiculous superstition? Thank you\nanyway.  And I like the smell of my\nhair treatment - the pleasing odor\nis half the point.\n\nHe shakes his head and laughs.\n\nEVERETT\nBaptism. You two are just dumber'n a\nbag of hammers. Well, I guess you're\nmy cross to bear-\n\nDELMAR\nPull over, Everett - let's give that\ncolored boy a lift.\n\nA thirtyish black man in worn go-to-meetin' clothes stands\non the shoulder, waggling his thumb at the passing car. He\ngrabs his battered guitar case as the car pulls over and\ntrots up to the open window.\n\nHITCHHIKER\nYou folks goin' through Tishamingo?\n\nDelmar pushes open the back door.\n\nDELMAR\nSure, hop in.\n\nEverett looks at the man in the rearview mirror as he pulls\nout.\n\nEVERETT\nHow ya doin', boy? Name's Everett,\nand these two soggy sonsabitches are\nPete and Delmar. Keep your fingers\naway from Pete's mouth-he ain't had\nnothin' to eat for the last thirteen\nyears but prison food, gopher, and a\nlittle greasy horse.\n\nHITCHHIKER\nThank you fuh the lif', suh. M'names\nTommy. Tommy Johnson.\n\nDelmar is genuinely friendly:\n\nDELMAR\nHow ya doin', Tommy. I haven't seen\na house in miles. What're you doin'\nout in the middle of nowhere?\n\nTommy is matter-of-fact:\n\nTOMMY\nI had to be at that crossroads las'\nmidnight to sell mah soul to the\ndevil.\n\nEVERETT\nWell ain't it a small world,\nspiritually speakin'! Pete and Delmar\njust been baptized and saved! I guess\nI'm the only one here who remains\nunaffiliated!\n\nDELMAR\nThis ain't no laughin' matter,\nEverett.\n\nEVERETT\nWhat'd the devil give you for your\nsoul, Tommy?\n\nTOMMY\nHe taught me to play this guitar\nreal good.\n\nDelmar is horrified:\n\nDELMAR\nOh, son! For that you traded your\neverlastin' soul?!\n\nTommy shrugs.\n\nTOMMY\nI wudden usin' it.\n\nPETE\nI always wondered-what's the devil\nlook like?\n\nEVERETT\nWell, of course there's all manner\nof lesser imps'n demons, Pete, but\nthe Great Satan hisself is red and\nscaly with a bifurcated tail and\ncarries a hayfork.\n\nTOMMY\nOh no! No suh! He's white-white as\nyou folks, with mirrors for eyes an'\na big hollow voice an' allus travels\nwith a mean old hound.\n\nPETE\nAnd he told you to go to Tishamingo?\n\nTOMMY\nNo suh, that was mah idea. I heard\nthey's a man there pays folks money\nto sing into a can. They say he pays\nextra effen you play real good.\n\nEverett's eyes narrow as he studies the man in the rearview.\n\nEVERETT\nHow much does he pay?\n\nTISHAMINGO\n\nThe car is pulling into the parking lot of a single-story\ncement-block building with a hundred-foot antenna and a\nhandpainted sign:\n\nWEZY\nLISTENING AIN'T NEVER BEEN\nSO EASY NOR\nSO FINE\n\nAs the men get out of the car, Everett snaps his suspenders.\n\nEVERETT\nAll right boys, just follow my lead.\n\nINSIDE\n\nEverett strides up to a portly middle-aged man who wears\ndark glasses and holds a white cane.\n\nEVERETT\nWho's the honcho around here?\n\nMAN\nI am. Hur you?\n\nEVERETT\nWell sir, my name is Jordan Rivers\nand these here are the Soggy Bottom\nBoys outta Cottonelia Mississippi-\nSongs of Salvation to Salve the Soul.\nWe hear you pay good money to sing\ninto a can.\n\nMAN\nWell that all depends. You boys do\nNegro songs?\n\nEverett grimaces, thinking.\n\nEVERETT\nSir, we are Negroes. All except our\na-cump- uh, company-accompluh- uh,\nthe fella that plays the gui-tar.\n\nMAN\nWell, I don't record Negro songs.\nI'm lookin' for some ol'-timey\nmaterial.  Why, people just can't\nget enough of it since we started\nbroadcastin' the 'Pappy O'Daniel\nFlour Hour', so thanks for stoppin'\nby, but-\n\nEVERETT\nSir, the Soggy Bottom Boys been\nsteeped in ol'-timey material. Heck,\nyou're silly with it, aintcha boys?\n\nPETE\nThat's right!\n\nDELMAR\nThat's right! We ain't really Negroes!\n\nPETE\nAll except fer our a-cump-uh-nust!\n\nTHE STUDIO\n\nThe three singing convicts form a semi-circle behind Tommy,\nwho plays his guitar into a can microphone. They are\nperforming a hot and harmonized version of 'Man of Constant\nSorrow'.\n\nWhen they finish Everett whoops and slaps Tommy on the back.\n\nEVERETT\nHot damn, boy, I almost believe you\ndid sell your soul to the devil!\n\nMAN\nBoys, that was some mighty fine\npickin' and singin'. You just sign\nthese papers and I'll give you ten\ndollars apiece.\n\nEVERETT\nOkay sir, but Mert and Aloysius'll\nhave to scratch Xes - only four of\nus can write.\n\nTHE LOT\n\nA caravan of two oversize cars is pulling into the lot just\nas Tommy and the three convicts burst out of the station\ndoor, whooping it up.\n\nA sixty-year-old man in enormous seersucker pants held up by\nsuspenders and the outward pressure of a blooming belly is\ngetting out of the first car. His face is familiar from\ncountless sacks of Pass the Biscuits Pappy O'Daniel Flour.\n\nDelmar waves a fistful of money at him.\n\nDELMAR\nHey mister! I don't mean to be tellin'\ntales out a school, but there's a\nman in there hands out ten dollars\nto anyone sings into his can!\n\nPAPPY\nI'm not here to make a record, ya\ndumb cracker, they broadcast me out\non the radio.\n\nA big shambling man of about thirty has followed him out of\nthe car. He has the sloping shoulders, the pasty skin, and\nthe aimlessly bobbing head of an intellectual flyweight.\n\nJUNIOR\nThat's Governor Menelaus 'Pass the\nBiscuits, Pappy' O'Daniel, and he'd\nsure 'preciate it if you ate his\nfarina and voted him a second term.\n\nTwo other members of the retinue, older men whose girth rivals\nthe governor's, are Eckard and Spivey.\n\nECKARD\nFinest governor we've ever had in\nM'sippi.\n\nSPIVEY\nIn any state.\n\nECKARD\nOh Lord yes, any parish'r precinct;\nI was makin' the larger point.\n\nAs Pappy brushes by them, Junior wheedles:\n\nJUNIOR\nAintcha gonna press the flesh, Pappy,\ndo a little politickin'?\n\nPappy slaps at the young man with his hat.\n\nPAPPY\nI'll press your flesh, you dimwitted\nsonofabitch - you don't tell your\npappy how to cawt the elect 'rate!\n\nPappy waves his hat at the radio building as singers in faux\nhillbilly outfits with various musical instrument cases get\nout of the second car.\n\nPAPPY\nWe ain't one-at-a-timin' here, we\nmass communicatin'!\n\nECKARD\nOh, yes, assa parful new force.\n\nSPIVEY\nMm-mm.\n\nThe men head for the station, with Junior lagging.\n\nPAPPY\nShake a leg, Junior! Thank God your\nmama died givin' birth-if she'd a\nseen ya she'd a died of shame...\n\nA CAMPFIRE\n\nIt is night.\n\nTommy sits in the background, playing and singing a slow\nblues. The three convicts, holding coffee cups, gaze into\nthe fire.\n\nOver the dreamy song:\n\nDELMAR\nWhy don't we bed down out here\ntonight?\n\nPETE\nYeah, it stinks in that ol' barn.\n\nEVERETT\nSuits me...\n\nHe stretches out.\n\nEVERETT\nPretty soon it'll be nothin' but\nfeather beds'n silk sheets.\n\nPete swishes his coffee as he stares into the blaze.\n\nPETE\nA million dollars.\n\nEVERETT\nMillion point two.\n\nDELMAR\nFive... hunnert... thousand... each.\n\nEVERETT\nFour hundred, Delmar.\n\nDELMAR\nIzzat right?\n\nEVERETT\nWhat're you gonna do with your share\nof the treasure, Pete?\n\nPETE\nGo out west somewhere, open a fine\nrestaurant. I'm gonna be the maider\ndee.  Greet all the swells, go to\nwork ever' day in a bowtie and tuxedo,\nan' all the staff'll all say Yassir\nand Nawsir and in a Jiffy Pete...\n\nHe gives his coffee a thoughtful swish and murmurs:\n\nPETE\nAn' all my meals for free...\n\nEVERETT\nWhat about you, Delmar? What're you\ngonna do with your share a that dough?\n\nDELMAR\nVisit those foreclosin' sonofaguns\ndown at the Indianola Savings and\nLoan and slap that cash down on the\nbarrelhead and buy back the family\nfarm. Hell, you ain't no kind of man\nif you ain't got land.\n\nPETE\nWhat about you, Everett? What'd you\nhave in mind when you stoled it in\nthe first place?\n\nEVERETT\nMe? Oh, I didn't have no plan. Still\ndon't, really.\n\nPETE\nWell that hardly sounds like you...\n\nA distant Voice:\n\nVOICE\nAll right, boys, itsy authorities!\n\nThe three men tense up. Tommy stops singing.\n\nVOICE\nYour sitchy-ation is purt nigh\nhopeless!\n\nPete shovels dirt onto the fire as Delmar and Everett scramble\nto peek over a low ridge.\n\nTheir point-of-view shows a lone barn with their car parked\nto one side. Various police vehicles have pulled up facing\nthe barn, and armed men, their backs to us, train guns on\nit, some taking cover on the near side of their parked cars.\n\nEVERETT\nDamn! They found our car!\n\nThe man with the bullhorn continues, directing his comments\nat the distant barn:\n\nMAN\nWe ain't got the time-and nary\ninclination-to gentle you boys no\nfurther!\n\nThe three convicts notice the sheriff who once again stands\nimpassively next to the man with the bullhorn, holding a\nleash against which a bloodhound strains.\n\nMAN\nIt's either the penal farm or the\nfires of damnation-makes no nevermind\nto me!\n\nThe sheriff makes a signal to a man holding a torch, who\nskitters up to the barn and lights it.\n\nDELMAR\nDamn! We gotta skedaddle!\n\nEVERETT\nI left my pomade in that car! Maybe\nI can creep up!\n\nDELMAR\nDon't be a fool, Everett, we gotta R-\nU-N-O-F-F-T, but pronto!\n\nEVERETT\nWhere's Tommy?\n\nPETE\nAlready lit out, scared out of his\nwits. Let's go!\n\nDAYTIME ROAD\n\nThe three men shuffle down the dusty road.\n\nPETE\nThe hell it ain't square one! Ain't\nno one gonna pick up three filthy\nunshaved hitchhikers, and one of 'em\na know-it-all that can't keep his\ntrap shut!\n\nEVERETT\nPete, the personal rancor reflected\nin that remark I don't intend to\ndignify with comment, but I would\nlike to address your general attitude\nof hopeless negativism. Consider the\nlilies a the goddamn field, or-hell!-\ntake a look at Delmar here as your\nparadigm a hope.\n\nDELMAR\nYeah, look at me.\n\nEVERETT\nNow you may call it an unreasoning\noptimism. You may call it obtuse.\nBut the plain fact is we still have...\nclose to... close to...\n\nHe loses his drift as all three men turn, reacting to the\nsound of an approaching speeding car.\n\nEVERETT\n...close to... three days... before\nthey dam that river...\n\nThe car comes into view cornering on two wheels. It crashes\nback onto all four and, as it speeds along, dollar bills\nsnap and flutter out its windows. The car roars up to the\nthree men as Delmar waggles a hopeful thumb. It screeches to\na halt.\n\nThe driver, a young man in a sharp suit with a round, babylike\nface, leans over to call through the passenger window.\n\nDRIVER\nIs this the road to Itta Bena?\n\nPETE\nUh... Itta Bena...\n\nDelmar plucks a fluttering dollar bill out of the air and\nlooks at it wonderingly. He holds it stretched between two\nhands, brings the two sides together, then gives it an\nappraising pop.\n\nEVERETT\nItta Bena, now, uh, that would be...\n\nPETE\nIsn't it, uh...\n\nLike a child gazing at soap bubbles, Delmar looks around at\nthe wafting currency, and yanks another fluttering bill out\nof the air.\n\nEVERETT\nI'm thinkin' it's uh, you could take\nthis road to, uh...\n\nThere is the sound of a distant siren.\n\nThe driver, still patiently leaning over to hear out the two\nbrainwrackers, shoots a quick look in his rearview mirror.\n\nPETE\n...Nah, that ain't right... I'm\nthinkin' of...\n\nEVERETT\n...I believe, unless I'm very much\nmistaken - see, we've been away for\nseveral years, uh...\n\nThe driver pushes open the passenger door.\n\nDRIVER\nHop on in while you give it a think.\n\nThe three men climb in and the car squeals out.\n\nINT. CAR\n\nThe driver shoots a glance up to the rearview mirror as the\nsirens grow louder, then gropes inside his coat.\n\nDRIVER\nAny a you boys know your way around\na Walther PPK?\n\nDELMAR\nWell now, that's where we cain't\nhelp ya. I don't believe it's in\nMississippi.\n\nThe man stops withdrawing the gun and appraises his\npassengers. Delmar reacts to the paper currency fluttering\ninside the car:\n\nDELMAR\nFriend, some of your folding money\nhas come unstowed.\n\nDRIVER\nJust stuff it down that sack there.\nYou boys aren't badmen, I take it?\n\nDELMAR\nWell, funny you should ask-I was\nbad, till yesterday, but me'n Pete\nhere been saved. My name's Delmar,\nand that there's Everett.\n\nDRIVER\nGeorge Nelson. It's a pleasure.\n\nHe opens his door and steps onto the running board, giving\nEverett a casual:\n\nNELSON\nGrab the tiller, will ya buddy?\n\nEverett slides over, startled. George Nelson, now fully\noutside and facing the pursuit vehicles, has one hand clamped\non the car roof and waves to Delmar with the other.\n\nNELSON\nHand up that Thompson, Jack.\n\nDelmar gropes in the footwell.\n\nDELMAR\nSay, what line of work are you in,\nGeorge?\n\nEXT. CAR\n\nNelson sends a spray of bullets back at the pursuit car.\n\nNELSON\nCOME AND GET ME, COPPERS! YOU\nFLATFOOTED LAMEBRAINED SOFT-ASSED\nSONOFABITCHES! NO ONE CAN CATCH ME!\nI'M GEORGE NELSON! I'M BIGGER THAN\nANY JOHN LAW EVER LIVED! HA-HA-HA-HA-\nHA! I'M TEN-AND-A-HALF FEET TALL AND\nAIN'T YET FULLY GROWED!\n\nNelson fires wildly as the pursuit cars gain on him, returning\nfire. He suddenly notices a herd of cattle grazing at the\nroadside and murmurs:\n\nNELSON\n...cows...\n\nHe swings the tommy gun over with a whoop.\n\nNELSON\nI hate cows worse than coppers!\n\nHe lets loose a spray. One of the cows drops and the rest\nstampede toward the road.\n\nDELMAR\nAww, George, not the livestock.\n\nEnergized, Nelson resumes bellowing:\n\nNELSON\nHA-HA! COME ON YOU MISERABLE SALARIED\nSONSABITCHES! COME AND GET ME!\n\nIn bovine ignorance of the conventions of high-speed police\npursuit, some of the cows have wandered up onto the road.\nThe lead police car broadsides one. George Nelson, cackling\nwildly, fires into the air as his car recedes.\n\nSMALL TOWN\n\nThe car is speeding into town, dodging and weaving through\nlight traffic as George fires into the air - perhaps a means\nof clearing a path, perhaps an expression of high spirits.\n\nThe car screeches to a halt and George hops out, and the\nthree convicts emerge to follow him.\n\nNELSON\nCOME ON BOYS! WE'RE GOIN' FOR THE\nRECORD-THREE BANKS IN TWO HOURS!\n\nJowls shaking in a full run, George Nelson bursts through\nthe door of the bank, followed by the three men.\n\nHe fires into the ceiling and leaps up onto a table.\n\nNELSON\nOKAY FOLKS! HOLD THE APPLAUSE AND\nDROP YER DRAWERS - I'M GEORGE NELSON\nAND I'M HERE TO SACK THE CITY A ITTA\nBENA!\n\nHe leaps down, fires into the air again, and sweeps a young\nwoman standing in line into a full V-J dip, kissing her on\nthe lips.\n\nDelmar nudges Everett.\n\nDELMAR\nHe's a live wire though, ain't he?\n\nNELSON\nThanky dear! All the money in the\nbag, and you can tell your grandkids\nyou were done by the best! I'M GEORGE\nNELSON AND I'M FEELIN' TEN FEET TALL!\n\nHe winks at the three men who obediently wait.\n\nNELSON\nIt's a kick and a quarter, ain't it\nboys?\n\nDistant sirens again.\n\nEVERETT\nPardon me, George, but have you got\na plan for gettin' outa here?\n\nNELSON\nSure boys, here's m'plan!\n\nHe whips open his suitcoat to reveal a half-dozen sticks of\ndynamite.\n\nNELSON\nThey ain't never seen ordnance like\nthis!  WELL, THANK YOU, FOLKS, AND\nREMEMBER: JESUS SAVES, BUT GEORGE\nNELSON WITHDRAWS!  HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-\nHA! GO FETCH THE AUTO-VOITURE, PETE!\n\nHe sends a burst into the ceiling, and heads for the door as\ncustomers murmur.\n\nVOICE\n...it's Babyface Nelson...\n\nGeorge whirls.\n\nNELSON\nWHO SAID THAT?!\n\nThe customers stare mutely back.\n\nNELSON\nWHAT IGNORANT LOWDOWN SLANDERIZING\nSONOFABITCH SAID THAT?! MY NAME IS\nGEORGE NELSON, GET ME?!\n\nThe customers shuffle their feet and glance uncomfortably\nabout. Delmar lays a hand on George's shoulder and tries to\nsteer him toward the door.\n\nDELMAR\nThey didn't mean anything by it,\nGeorge.\n\nNELSON\nGEORGE NELSON! NOT BABYFACE! YOU\nREMEMBER AND YOU TELL YOUR FRIENDS!\nI'M GEORGE NELSON, BORN TO RAISE\nHELL!\n\nOUTSIDE THE BANK\n\nThe siren grows louder as the four men emerge.\n\nEVERETT\nYou gotta be a little tolerant,\nGeorge; all these poor folk know is\nthe legend.  Hell, they can't be\nexpected to appreciate the complex\nindividual underneath-\n\nNELSON\nAww, I'm all right-\n\nHe shrugs off Everett's hand and lights the fuse on a stick\nof dynamite.\n\nNELSON\nThis'll put me right back on top!\n\nThe car squeals up and, as sirens approach once again, the\nthree men pile in.\n\nNELSON\nOR-VOIR, ITTA BENA! GEORGE NELSON\nTHANKS YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!\n\nAs the car peels out - KA-BOOM! - the dynamite blows a crater\nin the street behind.\n\nCAMPFIRE\n\nIt is night.\n\nGeorge Nelson, now strangely quiet, holds a coffee cup and\nstares gloomily into the fire.\n\nAfter a long beat, Delmar, also staring into the fire, slaps\none knee and ejaculates:\n\nDELMAR\nDamn but that was some fun though,\nwon it George?!\n\nGeorge responds, barely audible and without brightening:\n\nGEORGE\n...yeah...\n\nEverett and Pete exchange significant looks. Delmar, however,\nis less sensitive to the Babyface's mood.\n\nDELMAR\nAlmost makes me wish I hadn't been\nsaved! Jackin' up banks - I can see\nhow a fella could derive a lot a\npleasure and satisfaction out of it!\n\nGEORGE\n...it's okay...\n\nDELMAR\nWhoa doggies!\n\nAt length George swishes the coffee around his cup, shrugs,\ntosses the coffee and rises.\n\nGEORGE\n...Well, I'm takin' off.\n\nHe digs into a pocket and tosses his car keys to a dumbfounded\nDelmar.\n\nGEORGE\nYou boys can have the automobile.\n\nGlassy-eyed, he continues to dig in his pockets and lets his\nmoney fall to the ground.\n\nGEORGE\n'N might as well take my share a the\nriches.\n\nDELMAR\nWhat the - where you goin', George?\n\nGeorge has turned woodenly and walks away, leaving the\ncampfire's flickering circle of light.\n\nGEORGE\n...I dunno... who cares...\n\nDelmar stares at Everett, who looks appraisingly at George's\nretreating back. Pete scrambles to pick up the loose money.\n\nDELMAR\nNow wuddya suppose is eatin' George?\n\nEVERETT\nWell ya know, Delmar, they say that\nwith a thrill-seekin' personality,\nwhat goes up must come down. Top of\nthe world one minute, haunted by\nmegrims the next. Yep, it's like our\nfriend George is a alley cat and his\nown damn humors're swingin' him by\nthe tail. But don't worry, Delmar;\nhe'll be back on top again. I don't\nthink we've heard the last of George\nNelson.\n\nDelmar, gazing out at the blackness that has closed over\nGeorge Nelson, hasn't really been listening. He turns sadly\nback.\n\nDELMAR\nDamn! I liked George.\n\nA FIELD\n\nA ploughing farmer has paused to look for the source of\ndistant string-band music, growing closer. There is also an\napproaching amplified voice:\n\nVOICE\nDon't be saps for Pappy; vote for\nStokes and responsible gummint!\n\nA stakebed truck approaches along the road bordering the\nfield. It is festooned with Stokes banners showing the\ncandidate holding high a broom. Pickers perform in the bed\nof the truck, along with a dancer doing a two-step as he\npushes a broom. A midget in overalls waves his arms, as if\nconducting the music.\n\nVOICE\nHe's against the Innarests and for\nthe little man!\n\nThis, the driver's voice, is amplified through a flared\nspeaker mounted on the roof of the cab. As the oncoming truck\ndraws near, the midget bellows out at the farmer, who has\nremoved his hat to scratch his forehead.\n\nMIDGET\nGreetings, brother! Vote for Stokes!\n\nThe voice tails away:\n\nMIDGET\nClean gummint is yours for the askin'!\n\nOur pan with the passing truck comes to rest on the WEZY\nradio building.\n\nINSIDE\n\nWe are pulling back from a close shot of the portly blind\nman.\n\nMAN\nHang on! Lemme slap up a wire.\n\nHe turns away to load a recording as he talks into a\nmicrophone.\n\nMAN\nFolks, here's my cousin Ezzard's\nniece Eudora from out Greenwood doin'\na little number with her cousin Tom-\nTom which I predict you're just gonna\nenjoy thoroughly.\n\nHe switches off the microphone as the song, a duet of 'I'll\nFly Away', scratchily issues from a monitor. He turns his\nattention back to a well-dressed man sitting nearby.\n\nMAN\nNow what can I do you for, Mister\nFrench?\n\nFRENCH\nHow can I lay hold a the Soggy Bottom\nBoys?\n\nMAN\nSoggy Bottom Boys - I don't precisely\nrecollect, uh -\n\nFRENCH\nThey cut a record in here, few days\nago, old-timey harmony thing with a\nguitar Accump-accump-uh-\n\nMAN\nOh I remember 'em, colored fellas I\nbelieve, swell bunch a boys, sung\ninto yon can and skedaddled.\n\nFRENCH\nWell that record has just gone through\nthe goddamn roof! They're playin' it\nas far away as Mobile! The whole\ndamn state's goin' ape!\n\nMAN\nIt was a powerful air.\n\nFRENCH\nHot damn, we gotta find those boys!\nSign 'em to a big fat contract! Hell's\nbells, Mr. Lunn, if we don't the\ngoddamn competition will!\n\nMAN\nOh mercy, yes. You gotta beat that\ncompetition.\n\n'I'll Fly Away' mixes up to play full over the following.\n\nMONTAGE\n\n- The three men walk down a flat delta road, the sun\nshimmering off the rough pavement. Their bank loot, wrapped\nin a bandanna, is knotted to the end of a stick slung over\nDelmar's shoulder.\n\n- A different road under a threatening sky. The three men\nstand in the middle distance, waiting. In the foreground two\nlittle black boys are walking home, each carrying a block of\nice. A horse-drawn cart rumbles in from offscreen and Everett\nwaggles his thumb. Thunder rumbles.\n\n- A spinning 78 on a green felt turntable. The crude black\nlabel identifies it as 'Man of Constant Sorrow' by the Soggy\nBottom Boys.\n\n- A high shot looking down through the rain past the dripping\neave of a barn, under which Everett, Pete and Delmar have\ntaken cover. The three hold their coats pinched shut at the\nneck as they look forlornly up at the weather.\n\n- The three men walk along a red dirt road elevated through\na bayou.\n\n- The three men sit around a campfire. Everett sits on a\nstump, expressively telling a ghost story as Pete and Delmar\ngaze at him from below, wide-eyed and rapt.\n\n- The three men walk past a cotton field dotted with burst\npods.\n\n- A Woolworth's interior. A sad-faced woman in a calico dress\naddresses the clerk:\n\nSAD-FACED WOMAN\nDo you have the Soggy Bottom Boys\nperforming 'Man of Constant Sorrow'?\n\nCLERK\nNo, ma'am, we had a new shipment in\nyesterday but we just can't keep it\non the shelves.\n\nThe sad-faced woman is crestfallen.\n\nSAD-FACED WOMAN\nOh, mercy. Then - just the purple\ntoilet water.\n\n- The three men walk down a road excavated through banks of\nclay, from which gnarled tree roots protrude.\n\n- A pie rests on a windowsill, steam wafting from it. A hand\nenters from below the sill outside and disappears with the\npie. A moment later we see Everett's and Pete's backs as\nthey scamper away across the yard. A short beat, and then\nDelmar peeks over the sill. He ducks back down and then his\nhand reaches up to leave a dollar bill. Moments later we see\nhim scampering away after Pete and Everett.\n\n- Another campfire. The three men sit around it laughing as\nthey enjoy the pie, each with a slab on a plate improvised\nof old newspaper. Everett finishes his piece, licks his thumb\nand tosses the newspaper onto the fire.\n\nWe jump in to look at the soiled newspaper as flame begins\nto curl its edge. A story is headlined 'TVA Finalizing Plans\nfor Flooding of Arktabutta Valley'. The flame curls the page\naway, briefly revealing the page beneath - with a story\nheadlined 'Soggy Bottom Boys a Sensation - But Who Are They?' -\nbefore it too is consumed.\n\n- A little general store. We are very high, looking down at\na foreshortened Everett, Pete, Delmar and store clerk, who\nis wielding a long telescoping pole that stretches toward\nus. Everett is pointing up, directing the man with the pole.\nHe moves it tentatively to and fro until, at a certain point,\nEverett nods vigorously.\n\nA reverse shows the end of the pole - a long stock-pincher -\nas it closes over a tin of Dapper Dan pomade, resting on a\nhigh shelf.\n\nThe exterior of the store shows it to be on a corner of a\nlittle crossroads town. The three men are emerging from the\nstore just as a car pulls up to one of the two bubble-topped\ngas pumps out front. A fancyman in a boater hat gets out of\nthe car and heads for the store, passing the three; Everett\nglances at him and, as the man disappears inside, he dives\ninto his car, waving for Delmar and Pete to follow. Delmar,\ninitially reluctant, is hauled into the car by Pete, and the\nmen take off.\n\n- The spinning 78 recording, as the song enters its last\nverse.\n\n- A spinning car wheel.\n\n- A panoramic boom up as the car toodles away, down a road\nthat winds through scrub grass toward a distant sunset.\n\nTHE CAR\n\nThe three men are driving through the heat of the day. Everett\ndrives; Pete is slouched in the front passenger seat; Delmar,\nin back, picks out 'I'll Fly Away' on a banjo.\n\nPete listens to something, squints, tilts his head.\n\nPETE\n...Shutup, Delmar.\n\nDelmar and Everett exchange glances; Everett shrugs and Delmar\ndesists.\n\nWe can faintly hear a high, unearthly singing. Barely human,\nthe sound seems to agitate Pete. He looks desperately out\nthe window.\n\nHis hinging point-of-view shows, down the declivity from the\nroad and half hidden by trees, three women washing clothes\nin the river.\n\nPete's reaction is enormous. He jams a fist into his mouth,\neyes widening. He yanks the fist out and screams:\n\nPETE\nPULL OVER!\n\nEverett, startled, does so.\n\nEXT.\n\nBefore the car has even come to a stop Pete's door flies\nopen and he is stumbling down the bank to the river.\n\nEverett and Delmar follow more casually, Everett chuckling.\n\nEVERETT\nI guess o' Pete's got the itch.\n\nAT THE RIVER\n\nThe unearthly singing, full volume here, comes from the three\nwomen, beautiful but marked by an otherworldly langor as\nthey dunk clothes in the stream and beat them against rocks.\n\nPete is all awkward smiles and deep, burning eyes:\n\nPETE\nHowdy do, ladies. Name of Pete!\n\nStrangely, the three laundresses do not answer, though they\ndo smile at him as they continue to sing.\n\nPete tries again as he reaches into their laundry basket:\n\nPETE\nMaybe I could help you with the, uh-\n\nHe realizes he is holding ladies' undergarments.\n\nPETE\nAhem. I, uh...\n\nHe drops them back in the basket.\n\nPETE\nI don't believe I've, uh, heard that\nsong before...\n\nEverett and Delmar have arrived; Everett is loud and jovial:\n\nEVERETT\nAintcha gonna innerduce us, Pete?\n\nPete's eyes stay glued on the women as he hisses out of the\ncorner of his mouth:\n\nPETE\nDon't know their names. I seen 'em\nfirst!\n\nEverett laughs lightly.\n\nEVERETT\nLadies, you'll have to pardon my\nfriend here; Pete is dirt-ignorant\nand unschooled in the social arts.\nMy name on the other hand is Ulysses\nEverett McGill and you ladies are\nabout the three prettiest water lilies\nit's ever been my privilege to admire.\n\nNone of the women respond but, as all continue to sing, one\nbrings a jug marked with three Xes to Everett.\n\nEVERETT\nWhy, thank you dear, that's very,\nuh...\n\nHe takes a swig.\n\nEVERETTE\nMm. Corn licker, I guess, uh, the\npreferred local uh...\n\nHe passes the jug to Pete as the woman runs her fingers\nthrough his hair.\n\nThe other two women are approaching to likewise tousle Pete\nand Delmar.\n\nDelmar's woman caresses his face and, by squeezing his cheeks,\nsmushes his mouth into a pucker.\n\nDELMAR\nPleased to meet you, ma'am.\n\nThe singing continues. The stream gurgles. Somewhere, in the\ndistance, flies lazily buzz.\n\nPETE\nDamn!\n\nFADE OUT\n\nFADE IN\n\nCLOSE ON DELMAR\n\nWe are very tight. Delmar's eyes are closed. We hear loud\nsnoring. At length his eyelids flutter open, but the snoring\ncontinues.\n\nDelmar groggily props himself on one elbow.\n\nIt is late afternoon. He is still on the riverbank. Everett\nsnores nearby.\n\nThe ladies are gone. The hamper of laundry is gone. Pete is\ngone.\n\nAfter looking blearily about for a moment, Delmar starts and\nstaggers to his feet.\n\nDELMAR\nHoly Saint Christopher!\n\nHe toes Everett urgently in the ribs.\n\nEVERETT\nWhuhh...\n\nDELMAR\nOh sweet Lord, Everett, looka this!\n\nPete's clothes are laid out on the ground, not in a heap,\nbut mimicking the human shape, as if he had been simply\nvaporized fron within them.\n\nEverett rouses himself and looks at the clothes: He scans\nthe opposite river bank.\n\nEVERETT\nPETE! Where the heck are ya! We ain't\ngot time for your shenanigans!\n\nDelmar stares horrified at the pile of clothes: a spot in\nthe middle of the shirt is rising and falling, rising and\nfalling.\n\nDELMAR\nSweet Jesus, Everett! They left his\nheart!\n\nEverett joins Delmar to look. The rhythmic rising and falling\nnow travels up the shirt. A large yellow toad sticks its\nhead out from under the collar.\n\nDelmar keens. Everett is bewildered.\n\nEVERETT\nWhat on earth is goin' on here! What's\ngot into you, Delmar!\n\nDELMAR\nCaintcha see it Everett! Them sigh-\nreens did this to Pete! They loved\nhim up an' turned him into a horney-\ntoad!\n\nThe toad hops down the river bank.\n\nDELMAR\nPete! Come back!\n\nHe slides down the bank after the toad, Everett watching in\nperturbation.\n\nThe toad plops into the river and Delmar dives in after him.\nHe emerges a moment later with the toad wriggling in his\nhand.\n\nDELMAR\nDon't worry, Pete! It's me, Delmar!\nOh Everett! What're we gonna do?!\n\nDRIVING\n\nWe hear soft whimpering as Everett drives, sneaking worried\nglances over at the passenger seat.\n\nDelmar has the toad in his lap. He whimpers as he pets it.\n\nEverett hesitantly offers:\n\nEVERETT\n...I'm not sure that's Pete.\n\nDELMAR\nCourse it's Pete! Look at 'im!\n\nThe frog croaks.\n\nDELMAR\nWe gotta find some kinda wizard can\nchange 'im back!\n\nA beat. Delmar continues to whimper.\n\nEverett squints and shakes his head.\n\nEVERETT\n...I'm just not sure that's Pete.\n\nFINE RESTAURANT\n\nThe tables are formally laid with linen. Delmar and Everett\nsit at a table, a shoebox between them, deep in conversation.\n\nEVERETT\nYou can't display a toad in a fine\nrestaurant like this! Why, the good\nfolks here'd go right off their feed!\n\nDELMAR\nI just don't think it's right, keepin'\nhim under wraps like we's ashamed of\nhim.\n\nEVERETT\nWell if that is Pete I am ashamed of\nhim.  The way I see it he got what\nhe deserved - fornicating with some\nwhore a Babylon.  These things-\n\nHe points a knife at the shoebox.\n\nEVERETT\n-don't happen for no reason, Delmar.\nObviously it's some kind of judgment\non Pete's character.\n\nANOTHER PATRON\n\nWe are looking over the shoulder of a broad-shouldered man\nin a cream-colored suit and a shirt with powder-blue collar.\nHe is digging into a huge plateful of steak and eggs. Sensing\nsomething, he looks up, cocks his head, and then slowly turns\nto look back.\n\nHe thus reveals a cream-colored eyepatch with powder-blue\ntrim; his good eye is looking intently off - at Everett and\nDelmar, who continue arguing, out of earshot.\n\nBACK TO EVERETT AND DELMAR\n\nStill heatedly discussing.\n\nDELMAR\nThe two of us was fixing to fornicate!\n\nThe waitress has just arrived for their order. Everett gives\nher an ingratiating laugh:\n\nEVERETT\nHeh-heh. You'll have to excuse my\nrusticated friend here, unaccustomed\nas he is to city manners.\n\nHe ostentatiously fans some of his money.\n\nEVERETT\nWell mamzel I guess we'll have a\ncouple a steaks and some gratinated\npotatoes and wash it down with your\nfinest bubbly wine-\n\nBIG MAN\n\nWatching Everett fan his money. The big man stops chewing\nand slowly raises his napkin to his lips to give them a dainty\npat.\n\nBACK TO EVERETT AND DELMAR\n\nAs Everett closes his menu.\n\nEVERETT\n...And I don't suppose the chef'd\nhave any nits or grubs in the pantry,\nor - naw, never mind, just bring me\na couple leafs a raw cabbage.\n\nWAITRESS\nYes sir.\n\nThe big man appears as she leaves.\n\nBIG MAN\nDon't believe I've seen you boys\naround here before! Allow me\nt'innerduce myself: name of Daniel\nTeague, known in these precincts as\nBig Dan Teague or, to those who're\npressed for time, Big Dan toot court.\n\nEVERETT\nHow d'you do, Big Dan. I'm Ulysses\nEverett McGill; this is my associate\nDelmar O'Donnell.  I sense that,\nlike me, you are endowed with the\ngift of gab.\n\nBig Dan chuckles as he draws up a chair.\n\nBIG DAN\nI flatter myself that such is the\ncase; in my line of work it's plumb\nnecessary. The one thing you don't\nwant is air in the conversation.\n\nEVERETT\nOnce again we find ourselves in\nagreement.  What kind of work do you\ndo, Big Dan?\n\nBIG DAN\nSales, Mr. McGill, sales! And what\ndo I sell? The Truth! Ever' blessed\nword of it, from Genesee on down to\nRevelations! That's right, the word\nof God, which let me add there is\ndamn good money in during these days\nof woe and want! Folks're lookin'\nfor answers and Big Dan Teague sells\nthe only book that's got 'em! What\ndo you do - you and your tongue-tied\nfriend?\n\nDELMAR\nUh, we uh-\n\nEVERETT\nWe're adventurers, sir, currently\npursuin' a certain opportunity but\nopen to others as well.\n\nBIG DAN\nI like your style, young man, so I'm\ngonna propose you a proposition. You\ncover my check so I don't have to\nrun back up to my room, have your\nwaitress wrap your dinner picnic-\nstyle, and we'll retire to more\nprivate environs where I will explain\nto you how vast amounts of money can\nbe made in the service of God Amighty.\n\nEverett rises and digs in his pocket.\n\nEVERETT\nWell, why not. If nothing else I\ncould use some civilized conversation.\n\nAs the three men start to move off, Big Dan gives Delmar a\ntilt of the head and a crinkling smile.\n\nBIG DAN\nDon't forget your shoebox, friend.\n\nWe hear bellowing issuing from a curtained private dining-\nroom.\n\nINSIDE THE PRIVATE ROOM\n\nPappy O'Daniel sits smoking a cigar, nursing a glass of\nwhiskey, and soliciting the counsel of his overweight retinue.\n\nPAPPY\nLanguishing! Goddamn campaign is\nlanguishing! We need a shot inna\narm!  Hear me, boys? Inna goddamn\nARM!  Election held tomorra, that\nsonofabitch Stokes would win it in a\nwalk!\n\nJUNIOR\nWell he's the reform candidate, Daddy.\n\nPappy narrows his eyes at him, wondering what he's getting\nat.\n\nPAPPY\n...Yeah?\n\nJUNIOR\nWell people like that reform. Maybe\nwe should get us some.\n\nPappy whips off his hat and slaps at Junior with it.\n\nPAPPY\nI'll reform you, you soft-headed\nsonofabitch! How we gonna run reform\nwhen we're the damn incumbent!\n\nHe glares around the table.\n\nPAPPY\nZat the best idea any you boys can\ncome up with? REEform?! Weepin' Jesus\non the cross! Eckard, you may as\nwell start draftin' my concession\nspeech right now.\n\nEckard grunts as he starts to rise.\n\nECKARD\nOkay, Pappy.\n\nPappy whips him back down with his hat.\n\nPAPPY\nI'm just makin' a point, you stupid\nsonofabitch!\n\nECKARD\nOkay, Pappy.\n\nAs he settles back Eckard looks around the table and helpfully\nrelays:\n\nECKARD\nPappy just makin' a point here, boys.\n\nA MEADOW\n\nThe car boosted from the general store has been pulled off\nthe road and parked a few yards into a field littered with\nbluebonnets and rimmed with moss-dripping oak.\n\nEverett, Delmar and Big Dan sit on a blanket around a large\npicnic hamper. Big Dan is just sucking the last piece of\nchicken off a bone.\n\nHe tosses the bone over his shoulder, belches, and sighs.\n\nBIG DAN\nThankee boys for throwin' in that\nfricasee. I'm a man a large appetite\nand even with lunch under my belt I\nwas feeling a mite peckish.\n\nEVERETT\nOur pleasure, Big Dan.\n\nBIG DAN\nAnd thank you as well for that\nconversational hiatus; I generally\nrefrain from speech while engaged in\ngustation. There are those who attempt\nboth at the same time but I find it\ncourse and vulgar. Now where were\nwe?\n\nDELMAR\nMakin' money in the Lord's service.\n\nBIG DAN\nYou don't say much friend, but when\nyou do it's to the point and I salute\nyou for it.\n\nDelmar is pleased and embarrassed.\n\nDELMAR\nOh, it weren't nothin', I-\n\nBIG DAN\nYes, Bible sales. The trade is not a\ncomplicated one; there're but two\nthings to learn. One bein' where to\nfind your wholesaler - word of God\nin bulk as it were. Two bein' how to\nreckanize your customer - who're you\ndealin' with? - an exercise in\npsychology so to speak.\n\nHe rises to his feet and tosses down his napkin.\n\nBIG DAN\nAnd it is that which I propose to\ngive you a lesson in right now.\n\nHe reaches up and with one hand easily rips a stout limb off\na tree. He casually strips its twigs.\n\nEVERETT\nI like to think that I'm a pretty\nastute observer of the human scene.\n\nBIG DAN\nNo doubt, brother - I figured as\nmuch back there in the restaurant.\nThat's why I invited you out here\nfor this advanced tutorial.\n\nHis club is ready. He swings at Delmar who staggers back\nwith a grunt.\n\nEverett wears a puzzled smile.\n\nEVERETT\n...What's goin' on, Big Dan?\n\nDelmar, though stunned, is faster to size things up. He\ncharges Big Dan and wraps his arms around him.\n\nDelmar roars.\n\nBig Dan rears back and whacks at his head.\n\nEverett is still puzzled, but willing to be instructed:\n\nEVERETT\nBig Dan, what're you doin'?\n\nBig Dan walks awkwardly over to Everett with Delmar still\nattached to him like a hunting dog locked on to a bear. Big\nDan takes a break from whacking at Delmar to deliver a blow\nto Everett.\n\nThe blow catches Everett on the chin and sends him reeling.\n\nBIG DAN\nIt's all about money, boys! Atsy\nanswer! Dough re mi!\n\nBig Dan bear hugs Delmar and tosses him away. He whacks\nEverett into a semi-conscious heap and then paws through his\npockets.\n\nBIG DAN\nDo unto others before they do unto\nyou!\n\nHe pulls out their wad of cash.\n\nBIG DAN\nI'll just take your show cards...\n\nHe walks over to Delmar who is on the ground moaning, and\nkicks him several times.\n\nBIG DAN\n...and whatever you got in the hole.\n\nHe takes Delmar's shoebox and flips off the top.\n\nInside is a bed of straw with the toad resting on it.\n\nBIG DAN\nWhat the...\n\nHe pokes around the straw with his finger; nothing else\ninside.\n\nBIG DAN\nIt's nothin' but a damn toad!\n\nDelmar, moaning, looks blearily up through swollen eyes.\n\nBig Dan has the toad in his enormous fist.\n\nDelmar moans through cracked and bloody lips:\n\nDELMAR\nNo... you don't understand...\n\nBIG DAN\nDon't you boys know these things\ngive ya warts?\n\nHe squeezes the frog, crushing it, and tosses it away against\na tree.\n\nDELMAR\nOh Lord... Pete...\n\nBig Dan is over at the car, cranking it up.\n\nBIG DAN\nEnd of lesson.\n\nHe climbs in.\n\nBIG DAN\nSo long, boys! Hee-hee! See ya in\nthe funny papers!\n\nThe car belches and pops and toodles off down the road.\n\nDelmar staggers to his feet and stumbles over to the carcass\nof the frog, weeping.\n\nDELMAR\nPete... Pete... Pete...\n\nFADE OUT\n\nPAN DOWN FROM BLACK TO BRING IN A TORCH\n\nFlickering in the night. We hear the rumble of distant thunder\nas the continued pan down brings the torch's bearer into\nframe - a man with the slavering grin of the dim-witted\nsadist. He watches as we hear:\n\nVOICE\nWhere are they?!\n\nThere is the sound of a lash and a scream.\n\nVOICE\nTalk, you unreconstructed whelp of a\nwhore! Where they headed?\n\nAnother lash brings another scream.\n\nThe screams come from Pete. His arms, stretched high over\nhis head, are tied to a tree limb. His interrogator wields a\nbullwhip.\n\nINTERROGATOR\nYour screams ain't gonna save your\nflesh! Only your tongue is, boy!\n\nAnother lash, another scream.\n\nINTERROGATOR\nWhere they headed!\n\nA third man walks into the torchlight, a hound drooling at\nhis heels. He is Cooley, the sheriff with mirrored sunglasses\nwhom we remember from previous barn confrontations.\n\nCOOLEY\nLump. I.O.\n\nThe two men acknowledge by backing away from Pete.\n\nWe hear a pat... pat... and then the accelerating pitter-\npatter of arriving rain.\n\nCooley looks up.\n\nCOOLEY\nSweet summer rain. Like God's own\nmercy.\n\nHe looks back down at Pete.\n\nCOOLEY\nYour two friends have abandoned you,\nPete.  They don't seem to care 'bout\nyour hide.\n\nHe shrugs, looks off.\n\nCOOLEY\n...Okay.\n\nLooking up, into black: a rope is tossed up - it recedes out\nof the torchlight into black night - and then drops back\ndown into the light, a noose bouncing at its end.\n\nCOOLEY\nStairway to heaven, Pete.\n\nThe two henchmen fit the noose over Pete's neck. Cooley licks\nhis lips. His dog slobbers.\n\nCOOLEY\nWe shall all meet, by and by.\n\nPETE\nGoddamnit!\n\nCooley holds up one hand. The two men pause in fitting the\nnoose.\n\nPete is sobbing:\n\nPETE\nGodfer gimme!\n\nThunder crashes.\n\nBACK OF A HAYTRUCK\n\nEverett and Delmar sit disconsolately on a haybale as the\nstakebed truck bounces along a rough country road. They are\nboth ill-kempt and heavily bruised.\n\nThough still an undammable river of verbiage, Everett now\nseems to be talking out of weary habit, not conviction:\n\nEVERETT\nBelieve me, Delmar, he would've wanted\nus to press on. Pete, rest his soul,\nwas one sour-assed sonofabitch and\nnot given to acts of pointless\nsentimentality.\n\nDelmar doggedly shakes his head.\n\nDELMAR\nIt just don't seem right, diggin' up\nthat treasure without him.\n\nWe distantly hear picks ringing and male chanting. Hollow-\neyed, Everett tries to convince himself as much as Delmar:\n\nEVERETT\nMaybe it's for the best that Pete\nwas squushed. Why, he was barely a\nsentient bein'. Now, soon as we clean\nourselves up, get a little smell'um\nin our hair, we're just gonna feel a\nhunnert per cent better about\nourselves and about...\n\nHis voice trails away as he looks out at the road.\n\nThey are passing a line of chained men in prison stripes and\nduck-billed caps wielding pickaxes and shovels at the side\nof the road. Guards bearing shotguns amble back and forth.\n\nAs he stares at the line of men Everett tries to pick up his\nthread:\n\nEVERETT\n...and about... life in general...\n\nThe prisoners look like phantoms in the heat and dust.\n\nEVERETT\nJesus. We must be near Parchman Farm.\n\nThe men, giving throat to a dolorous chain-gang chant, do\nnot look up at the passing haytruck.\n\nEverett is haunted:\n\nEVERETT\nSorry sonsabitches... Seems like a\nyear ago we bust off the farm...\n\nThe last man in line swings his pick and, as he grows smaller,\nlooks up. Everett stares.\n\nIt is Pete.\n\nLone and lorn, he returns Everett's slack-jawed stare until\nheat ripples and the truck's dusty wake dissolve him away.\n\nEverett blinks.\n\nEVERETT\nPete have a brother?\n\nDELMAR\nNot that I'm aware.\n\nEverett shakes his head as if to clear it.\n\nEVERETT\nHeat must be gettin' to me.\n\nThe truck rattles on.\n\nTOWN SQUARE\n\nIthaca, Mississippi. On a bunting-covered stage a pencil-\nnecked man with round rimless glasses addresses a crowd of\nrustics.\n\nThe pencil-neck is identified on posters as 'Homer Stokes,\nFriend of the Little Man', and, in life as in the pictures,\nhe shakes a broom over his head. A midget in overalls stands\nnext to him.\n\nSTOKES\nAnd I say to you that the great state\na Mississippi cannot afford four\nmore years a Pappy O'Daniel - four\nmore years a cronyism, nepotism,\nrascalism and service to the\nInnarests!  The choice, she's a clear\n'un: Pappy O'Daniel, slave a the\nInnarests; Homer Stokes, servant a\nthe little man! Ain't that right,\nlittle fella?\n\nThe midget enthusiastically seconds:\n\nMIDGET\nHe ain't lyin'!\n\nSTOKES\nWhen the litle man says jump, Homer\nStokes says how high? And, ladies'n\njettymens, the little man has\nadmonished me to grasp the broom a -\nree-form and sweep this state clean!\n\nThe midget waves his little midget broom in time with Stoke's\nwaves.\n\nSTOKES\nIt's gonna be back to the flour mill,\nPappy! The Innarests can take care a\ntheyselves! Come Tuesday, we gonna\nsweep the rascals out! Clean gummint -\nyours for the askin'!\n\nHe beams amid cheers and then, as three girls in gingham\nfrocks run out to join him:\n\nSTOKES\nAn' now - the little Wharvey gals!\nWhatcha got for us, darlin's?\n\nThe oldest girl is about ten.\n\nLITTLE GIRL\n'In the Highways'!\n\nSTOKES\nThat's fine.\n\nThe haytruck has pulled into the square and Everett and Delmar\nare climbing out.\n\nEverett stares at the stage.\n\nEVERETT\nWharvey gals?! Did he just say the\nlittle Wharvey gals?\n\nDelmar shrugs. For some reason, Everett is enraged:\n\nEVERETT\nGoddamnit all!\n\nOnstage, the three girls are singing in untrained but\nenthusiastic harmony:\n\nGIRLS\nIn the highways, In the hedges...\n\nEverett stomps toward the stage, fighting his way through\nthe crowd. Puzzled, Delmar follows.\n\nDELMAR\nYou know them gals, Everett?\n\nEverett reaches the stage and climbs up into the wings just\nas the song ends. The midget starts buck-dancing to a fiddle\ntune as the three little girls, filing off, notice Everett.\n\nYOUNGEST\nDaddy!\n\nMIDDLE\nHe ain't our daddy!\n\nEVERETT\nHell I ain't! Whatsis 'Wharvey' gals? -\nYour name's McGill!\n\nYOUNGEST\nNo sir! Not since you got hit by a\ntrain!\n\nEVERETT\nWhat're you talkin' about - I wasn't\nhit by a train!\n\nMIDDLE\nMama said you was hit by a train!\n\nYOUNGEST\nBlooey!\n\nOLDEST\nNothin' left!\n\nMIDDLE\nJust a grease spot on the L&amp;N!\n\nEVERETT\nDamnit, I never been hit by any train!\n\nOLDEST\nAt's right! So Mama's got us back to\nWharvey!\n\nMIDDLE\nThat's a maiden name.\n\nYOUNGEST\nYou got a maiden name, Daddy?\n\nEVERETT\nNo, Daddy ain't got a maiden name;\nya see -\n\nMIDDLE\nThat's your misfortune!\n\nYOUNGEST\nAt's right! And now Mama's got a new\nbeau!\n\nOLDEST\nHe's a suitor!\n\nEVERETT\nYeah, I know 'bout that.\n\nMIDDLE\nMama says he's bona fide!\n\nThis worries Everett:\n\nEVERETT\nHm. He give her a ring?\n\nYOUNGEST\nYassir, big'un!\n\nMIDDLE\nGotta gem!\n\nOLDEST\nMama checked it!\n\nYOUNGEST\nIt's bona fide!\n\nMIDDLE\nHe's a suitor!\n\nEVERETT\nHm. What's his name?\n\nMIDDLE\nVernon T. Waldrip.\n\nYOUNGEST\nUncle Vernon.\n\nOLDEST\nTill tomorrow.\n\nYOUNGEST\nThen he's gonna be Daddy!\n\nEVERETT\nI'm the only damn daddy you got! I'm\nthe damn paterfamilias!\n\nOLDEST\nYeah, but you ain't bona fide!\n\nEVERETT\nHm. Where's your mama?\n\nStokes is announcing from the stage:\n\nSTOKES\nAnd now let's fetch back the Wharvey\ngals to sing 'I'll Fly Away'.\n\nThe girls call over their shoulders as they run back onstage:\n\nMIDDLE\nShe's at the five and dime.\n\nYOUNGEST\nBuyin' nipples!\n\nWOOLWORTH'S\n\nThe faces of a six-year-old girl and her four-year-old sister\nlight up.\n\nGIRLS\nDaddy!\n\nNext to them is a two-year-old girl with a string wrapped\naround her waist. The other end of the string is held by a\nwoman in her thirties with a haggard, careworn face. The\nwoman also holds a babe-in-arms.\n\nEverett, entering, goggles at the infant.\n\nEVERETT\nWho the hell is that?!\n\nWOMAN\nStarla Wharvey.\n\nEVERETT\nStarla McGill you mean! How come you\nnever told me about her?\n\nSIX-YEAR-OLD\n'Cause you was hit by a train.\n\nEVERETT\nAnd that's another thing - why're\nyou tellin' our gals I was hit by a\ntrain!\n\nWOMAN\nLotta respectable people been hit by\ntrains. Judge Hobby over in Cookeville\nwas hit by a train. What was I\nsupposed to tell 'em - that you was\nsent to the penal farm and I divorced\nyou from shame?\n\nEVERETT\nWell - I take your point. But it\nleaves me in a damned awkward position\nvis-a-vis my progeny.\n\nA man in a straw boater joins them.\n\nBOATER\n'Lo Penny... This gentleman bothering\nyou?\n\nEVERETT\nYou Waldrip?\n\nBOATER\nThat's right.\n\nEverett sniffs and, catching a scent, squints.\n\nWaldrip's hair, protruding from under his boater, is plastered\nagainst his scalp.\n\nEVERETT\n...Have you been using my hair\ntreatment?\n\nWALDRIP\nYour hair treatment?!\n\nEverett covers his anger with an exaggerated politeness.\n\nEVERETT\nS'cuse me...\n\nHe draws Penny aside.\n\nEVERETT\nWell, I got news for you case you\nhadn't noticed - I wasn't hit by a\ntrain. And I've traveled many a weary\nmile to be back with my wife and six\ndaughters.\n\nSIX-YEAR-OLD\nSeven, Daddy!\n\nPENNY\nThat ain't your daddy, Alvinelle.\nYour daddy was hit by a train.\n\nEVERETT\nNow Penny, stop that!\n\nPENNY\nNo - you stop it! Vernon here's got\na job. Vernon's got prospects. He's\nbona fide! What're you?\n\nEVERETT\nI'll tell you what I am - I'm the\npaterfamilias! You can't marry him!\n\nPENNY\nI can and I am and I will - tomorrow!\nI gotta think about the little Wharvey\ngals! They look to me for answers!\nVernon can s'port 'em and buy 'em\nlessons on the clarinet! The only\ngood thing you ever did for the gals\nwas get his by that train!\n\nEVERETT\n...Why you... lyin,... unconstant...\nsuccubus!\n\nWALDRIP\nYou can't swear at my fiancee!\n\nEVERETT\nOh yeah? Well you can't marry my\nwife!\n\nWith this he takes a wild swing which Waldrip easily eludes.\nWaldrip adapts a Marquess of Queensbury stance and prances\nabout, delivering stinging punches to the nose of a stunned\nand outclassed Everett.\n\nA crowd is gathering and voices murmur:\n\nBYSTANDERS\nWho is that man?\n\nPENNY\nHe's not my husband. Just a drifter,\nI guess... Just some no-account\ndrifter...\n\nEXT. WOOLWORTH'S\n\nIts glass doors swing open and Everett is hurled out and\nbellyflops into the dust of the street.\n\nBRAWNY MANAGER\n...And stay out of Woolworth's!\n\nMOVIE THEATER\n\nRomantic music tinnily plays as Delmar and Everett watch,\nEverett slumped down and angrily hissing:\n\nEVERETT\nDeceitful! Two-faced! She-Woman!\nNever trust a female, Delmar! Remember\nthat one simple precept and your\ntime with me will not have been ill\nspent!\n\nDELMAR\nOkay, Everett.\n\nEVERETT\nHit by a train! Truth means nothin'\nto Woman, Delmar. Triumph a the\nsubjective!  You ever been with a\nwoman?\n\nDELMAR\nWell, uh, I - I gotta get the family\nfarm back before I can start thinkin'\nabout that.\n\nEVERETT\nWell that's right! If then! Believe\nme, Delmar, Woman is the most fiendish\ninstrument of torture ever devised\nto bedevil the days a man!\n\nDELMAR\nEverett, I never figured you for a\npaterfamilias.\n\nEVERETT\nOh-ho-ho yes, I've spread my seed.\nAnd you see what it, uh... what it's\nearned me... Now what in the...\n\nThe screen is flickering down to black as the music slows to\nsludge and stops.\n\nThe theater is dark and quiet.\n\nEverett and Delmar, and the rest of the sparse audience,\nlook restively about.\n\nA man carrying a shotgun enters the auditorium.\n\nHe walks halfway down the aisle and stops several rows behind\nDelmar and Everett. He scans the theater, then brings a\nwhistle to his lips.\n\nAt his whistle the back doors burst open and a line of chained\nmen trot in at double-time. With much clanking they file\ninto one row and then, that row filled, the one behind it.\nThey remain silently on their feet.\n\nThe first guard and two others who escorted in the convicts\nscan the theater. The first guard again blows his whistle.\n\nThe two rows of chained men sit.\n\nAfter another silence:\n\nFIRST GUARD\n...Okay boys! Enjoy yer pickcha show!\n\nOne more whistle cues the movie to grind back up to speed.\n\nA hissing whisper from behind draws Everett and Delmar's\nattention:\n\nVOICE\nDo not seek the treasure! It's a\nbushwhack!\n\nEverett and Delmar turn and stare, saucer-eyed. In the middle\nof the frontmost row of convicts sits Pete - bald, haunted\nPete.\n\nAfter a long, disbelieving stare:\n\nDELMAR\n...Pete?\n\nPete whispers again, urgently:\n\nPETE\nThey're fixin' a ambush! Do not seek\nthe treasure!\n\nEverett, jaw hanging open, can only stare, as if at a ghost.\nDelmar stares also, but finally brings out another:\n\nDELMAR\n...Pete?\n\nPETE\nDo not seek the treasure!\n\nEverett's face remains frozen in horrified disbelief, but\nDelmar finally accepts Pete's corporeal reality.\n\nDELMAR\nWe thought you was a toad!\n\nPete squints and cocks his head as if to say, What was that?\n\nDelmar repeats the whisper slowly and with exaggerated mouth\nmovements:\n\nDELMAR\nWe thought... you was... a toad!\n\nPete shakes his head - didn't catch it - and repeats, also\noverarticulating:\n\nPETE\nDo not... seek... the treasure!\n\nA guard murmurs:\n\nGUARD\nQuiet there. Watcha pickcha.\n\nVERANDA\n\nPappy O'Daniel sits on the veranda of the Governor's Mansion,\nsmoking a cigar and sipping from a glass of bourbon as the\nevening sun goes down.\n\nPAPPY\nI signed that bill! I signed a dozen\na those aggi-culture bills! Everyone\nknows I'm a friend a the fahmuh!\nWhat do I gotta do, start diddlin'\nlivestock?!\n\nJUNIOR\nWe cain't do that, Daddy, we might\noffend our constichency.\n\nPAPPY\nWe ain't got a constichency! Stokes\ngot a constichency!\n\nECKARD\nThem straw polls is ugly.\n\nSPIVEY\nStokes is pullin' ah pants down.\n\nECKARD\nGonna pluck us off the tit.\n\nSPIVEY\nPappy gonna be sittin' there pants\ndown and Stokes at the table soppin'\nup the gravy.\n\nECKARD\nLatch right on to that tit.\n\nSPIVEY\nWipin' little circles with his bread.\n\nECKARD\nSuckin' away.\n\nSPIVEY\nWell, it's a well-run campaign,\nmidget'n broom'n whatnot.\n\nECKARD\nDevil his due.\n\nSPIVEY\nHelluva awgazation.\n\nJUNIOR\nSay, I gotten idee.\n\nECKARD\nWhat sat, Junior?\n\nJUNIOR\nWe could hire us a little fella even\nsmaller'n Stokes's.\n\nPappy whips at him with his hat.\n\nPAPPY\nY'ignorant slope-shouldered sack a\nguts!  Why we'd look like a buncha\nsatchel-ass Johnnie-Come-Latelies\nbraggin' on our own midget! Don't\nmatter how stumpy! And that's the\ngoddamn problem right there - people\nthink this Stokes got fresh ideas,\nhe's oh coorant and we the past.\n\nECKARD\nProblem a p'seption.\n\nSPIVEY\nAss right.\n\nECKARD\nReason why he's pullin' ah pants\ndown.\n\nSPIVEY\nGonna paddle ah little bee-hind.\n\nECKARD\nAin't gonna paddle it; he's gonna\nkick it real hard.\n\nWith his mouth forming an O around his dropping cigar, Pappy\nlooks sadly from one to the other, like a spectator at a\nparticularly boring tennis match.\n\nSPIVEY\nNo, I believe he's a-gonna paddle\nit.\n\nECKARD\nWell now, I don't believe assa\nproperty scription.\n\nSPIVEY\nWell, that's how I characterize it.\n\nECKARD\nWell, I believe it's mawva kickin'\nsichation.\n\nSPIVEY\nPullin' ah pants down...\n\nECKARD\nWipin' little circles with his\nbread...\n\nA NOOSE\n\nIn slow motion it is dropping... dropping... dropping through\nthe night. We hear distant thunder and the howl of a hound.\nThe sounds recede, and the black background dissolves into a\npan down from a raftered ceiling as the noose fades away.\n\nThe continued pan down shows that we are in a barracks-like\ncabin. It is night. Convicts are ranged in bunk-beds. Their\nsnores stand out against the chirp of crickets.\n\nIn the upper berth of the foreground bed is Pete. His hands\nare clasped behind his head. A manacle and chain links one\nwrist to a rail that serves as headboard.\n\nHe stares up, haunted, at the phantom noose.\n\nPETE\nI could not gaze upon that far\nshore...\n\nHe reacts quizically to a whispered:\n\nVOICE\nPete!\n\nA moment later Everett rises over the lip of his bed. His\nface is blacked and he sways as if standing on a boat.\n\nEVERETT\nHold still.\n\nHe is raising a large, long-armed, short-nosed pincering\ntool. He locks the nose onto Pete's chain and levers the\narms. As his hand chinks free, Pete does not react to his\nnewfound liberty.\n\nWe hear an agonized voice from off as Everett continues to\nsway:\n\nDELMAR\n...Cain't stand much longer.\n\nPete's eyes burn into Everett's.\n\nPETE\nIt was a moment a weakness!\n\nEVERETT\nQuitcha babblin' Pete - time to\nskedaddle.\n\nTHE THREE MEN\n\nWe track with them as they walk through the moonlit woods.\nDelmar's and Everett's faces are thoroughly blacked; Pete is\njust finishing blacking his, and he hands the shoe polish\nback to Everett.\n\nPETE\nThey lured me out for a bathe, then\nthey dunked me'n trussed me up like\na hog and turned me in for the bounty.\n\nEVERETT\nI shoulda guessed it - typical womanly\nbehavior. Just lucky we left before\nthey came for us.\n\nDELMAR\nWe didn't abandon you, Pete, we just\nthought you was a toad.\n\nPETE\nNo, they never did turn me into a\ntoad.\n\nDELMAR\nWell that was our mistake then. And\nthen we was beat up by a bible\nsalesman and banished from\nWoolworth's. I don't know if it's\nthe one branch or all of 'em.\n\nPETE\nWell I - I ain't had it easy either,\nboys.  Uh, frankly, I - well I spilled\nmy guts about the treasure.\n\nDELMAR\nHuh?!\n\nPETE\nAwful sorry I betrayed you fellas;\nmust be my Hogwallop blood.\n\nEVERETT\nAw, that's all right, Pete.\n\nPete is shaking his head, miserable.\n\nPETE\nIt's awful white of ya to take it\nlike that, Everett. I feel wretched,\nspoilin' yer play for a million\ndollars'n point two. It's been eatin'\nat my guts.\n\nEVERETT\nAw, that's all right.\n\nPete starts weeping.\n\nPETE\nYou boys're true friends!\n\nHe hugs a stunned Delmar.\n\nPETE\nYou're m'boon companions!\n\nHe hugs Everett, who looks profoundly uncomfortable.\n\nEVERETT\nPete, uh, I don't want ya to beat\nyourself up about this thing...\n\nPETE\nI cain't help it, but that's a\nwonderful thing to say!\n\nEVERETT\nWell, but Pete...\n\nHe clears his throat.\n\nEVERETT\nUh, the fact of the matter is - well,\ndamnit, there ain't no treasure!\n\nNow it is Pete's turn to be stunned. He and Delmar stare at\nEverett.\n\nEVERETT\nFact of the matter - there never\nwas!\n\nPETE\nBut... but...\n\nDELMAR\nSo - where's all the money from your\narmored-car job?\n\nEVERETT\nI never knocked over any armored-\ncar. I was sent up for practicing\nlaw without a license.\n\nPETE\nBut...\n\nEVERETT\nDamnit, I just hadda bust out! My\nwife wrote me she was gettin' married!\nI gotta stop it!\n\nPete stares vacantly off.\n\nPETE\n...No treasure... I had two weeks\nleft on my sentence...\n\nEVERETT\nI couldn't wait two weeks! She's\ngettin' married tomorra!\n\nPETE\n...With my added time for the escape,\nI don't get out now 'til 1987...\nI'll be eighty-four years old.\n\nDelmar, not angry himself, is trying to work it out.\n\nDELMAR\nHuh. I guess they'll tack on fifty\nyears for me too.\n\nEVERETT\nBoys, we was chained together. I\nhadda tell ya somethin'. Bustin' out\nalone was not a option!\n\nPETE\n...Eighty-four years old.\n\nDelmar brightens.\n\nDELMAR\nI'll only be eighty-two.\n\nPete lunges at Everett.\n\nPETE\nYOU RUINED MY LIFE!\n\nHe tackles him and, with his hands wrapped round Everett's\nthroat, the two roll over.\n\nEVERETT\n(strangled)\nPete... I do apologize.\n\nPETE\nEighty-four years old! I'll be gummin'\npab-you-lum!\n\nThey have rolled through some brush and their bodies are now\nhalfway into a clearing. They abruptly stop.\n\nPete, lying on top of Everett, looks up, startled by loud\nchanting. Everett, lying on his back, tries to see as well,\nhis eyes rolling back in his head.\n\nTheir point-of-view shows a great open field where men in\nbedsheets parade in formation before a huge fiery cross.\n\nPete and Everett hastily crabwalk back into the bushes and\nthen push through with Delmar.\n\nThe ranks of hooded men, chanting in a high hillbilly wail,\nintersect and shuffle like a marching band at halftime. At\nlength they stop in perfect formation, still chanting, to\nface the Imperial Wizard, who stands in front of the burning\ncross dressed in a red satin robe and hood trimmed with gold.\n\nAn aisle leads through the middle of the formation to the\nburning cross, before which a gibbet has been erected. The\nbackmost row has stopped, facing away, only a few yards from\nthe bushes that hide Delmar, Pete and Everett.\n\nAs the chanting continues, two Klansmen lead a black man,\nwhom they grasp by either arm, up the aisle toward the gibbet.\n\nBLACK MAN\nI ain't never harmed any you\ngentlemen!\n\nEverett hisses:\n\nEVERETT\nIt's Tommy! They got Tommy!\n\nDELMAR\nOh my God!\n\nIt is indeed Tommy Johnson.\n\nTOMMY\nI ain't never harmed nobody!\n\nPete is staring aghast at the makeshift gibbet.\n\nPETE\nThe noose. Sweet Jesus! We gotta\nsave 'im!\n\nA broad-shouldered man in the middle of the ranks of Klansmen,\nsensing something, slowly turns to look back over his\nshoulder. He thus reveals that his hood has only one eye-\nhole.\n\nHe slowly draws off his hood. It is, of course, Big Dan\nTeague. His one good eye looks about; his other eye, now\nrevealed, is hideously clouded and stares up and off in fixed\nsightlessness.\n\nEverett, still crouched behind the bushes, notices something.\nHe hisses and points.\n\nEVERETT\nThe color guard.\n\nOff to one side is a robed and hooded three-man color guard\ndisplaying a Confederate flag.\n\nIn front of the crowd the Imperial Wizard raises one satin-\ndraped arm, and the chanting stops.\n\nWIZARD\nBrothers! We are foregathered here\nto preserve our hallowed culture'n\nheritage!  From intrusions, inclusions\nand dilutions!  Of culluh! Of creed!\nOf our ol'-time religion!\n\nOver in the bushes Everett, Delmar and Pete are straightening\nup and adjusting their appropriated robes and hoods, having\ndisposed of the color guard.\n\nWIZARD\nWe aim to pull evil up by the root!\nBefore it chokes out the flower of\nour culture'n heritage! And our women!\nLet's not forget those ladies, y'all,\nlookin' to us for p'tection! From\ndarkies! From Jews! From Papists!\nAnd from all those smart-ass folk\nsay we come descended from the\nmonkeys!  That's not my culture'n\nheritage!\n\nA roar from the crowd.\n\nWIZARD\nIzzat your culture'n heritage?\n\nAnother roar.\n\nWIZARD\nAnd so... we gonna hang us a neegra!\n\nA huge roar - and now the ranks resume their chanting.\n\nThe color guard hustles up the aisle to draw up behind the\ntwo men leading Tommy to the gibbet. Everett hisses:\n\nEVERETT\nHey Tommy! It's us!\n\nBehind Everett in the deep background someone emerges from\nthe ranks into the middle aisle. He approaches with a strong,\npurposeful stride - Big Dan Teague, bareheaded, holding his\nhood under his arm.\n\nEverett hisses again:\n\nEVERETT\nHey Tommy!\n\nTommy looks back over his shoulder.\n\nTOMMY\n...Huh?\n\nEverett is oblivious to the big man approaching from behind.\n\nEVERETT\nIt's us! We come to rescue ya!\n\nTOMMY\nThat's mighty kind of ya boys, but I\ndon't think nothin's gonna save me\nnow - the devil's come to collect\nhis due!\n\nPETE\nTommy, you don't wanna get hanged!\n\nTOMMY\nNaw I don't guess I do, but that's\nthe way it seems to be workin' out.\n\nEVERETT\nListen to me, Tommy, I got a plan -\n\nWhoosh - arriving Big Dan whips the hood from Everett's head.\nEverett is exposed - in blackface.\n\nThe chanting abruptly stops. The crowd is stunned.\n\nBig Dan whips off the other two hoods - Delmar and Pete, in\nblackface.\n\nFrom the crowd:\n\nVOICE\nThe color guard is colored!\n\nBig Dan roars.\n\nThe crowd roars.\n\nEverett screams:\n\nEVERETT\nRun, boys!\n\nPandemonium breaks out, and the Imperial Wizard takes off\nhis red satin hood for a better view.\n\nHe is the reform candidate Homer Stokes. Next to him, his\nmidget also pulls of his midget hood.\n\nStokes is peeved.\n\nSTOKES\nWho made them the color guard?\n\nEverett, Pete, Tommy and Delmar, bearing the Confederate\nflag, are retreating across the neutral ground separating\nthe mob of Klansmen from the burning cross. The mob pursues\nin full cry.\n\nWhen the intruders reach the foot of the cross, Delmar turns.\nHe javelins the flagpole up and out toward the pursuing crowd.\n\nHomer Stokes is mortified.\n\nSTOKES\nDamn! Can't let that flag touch the\nground!\n\nThe crowd gasps and watches, heads tilted back, in silence.\n\nThe only sound is the fluttering flag.\n\nHomer Stokes' eyes rise, hesitate and start to fall as the\nflag reaches its zenith and starts to descend.\n\nWe boom down with the hurtling flag toward a sea of upturned\nwhite hoods. Dead in the middle is bareheaded Dan Teague.\n\nHis arms are tensed out at his sides like a waiting kick-off\nreturner. He squints up with his one good eye, judging\ndistance and trajectory.\n\nFrom somewhere we hear a loud BOINK, as of a wire popping.\n\nThe flag flutters.\n\nThe crowd is silent.\n\nBig Dan sets and...\n\nWHAP! He snaps his hands up and together.\n\nHe has caught the flagpole. The flag has not touched the\nground.\n\nThe crowd cheers.\n\nBig Dan looks around, beaming acknowledgement of the cheers.\n\nFrom somewhere, another BOINK.\n\nAs Big Dan's look reaches front again, his smile fades.\n\nHis eye tracks up - up-\n\nCREEEEEEK! The fiery cross is twisting and starting to fall.\n\nAt the foot of the cross Everett snaps its last guy wire\nwith his pincers - BOINK - and the four men sprint off.\n\nWHOOOOSH - As the crowd scatters, the cross descends toward\nBig Dan, frozen, looking up.\n\nIt crashes in a shower of sparks and embers that obliterates\nBig Dan Teague.\n\nA PACKARD\n\nIt is pulling up in front of a town hall from which party\nsounds filter out.\n\nPappy O'Daniel emerges from the car with his retinue - Eckard,\nSpivey and Junior.\n\nPAPPY\nI'm sayin' we har this man away.\n\nECKARD\nAssa good idea, Pappy.\n\nSPIVEY\nHelluva idea.\n\nECKARD\nCain't beat 'em, join 'em.\n\nSPIVEY\nHave him join us, run our campaign\n'stead a that pencil-neck's.\n\nECKARD\nEnticements a power, wealth, settera.\n\nSPIVEY\nNo one says no to Pappy O'Daniel.\n\nECKARD\nOh gracious no. Not with his\nblandishments.\n\nSPIVEY\nPowas p'suasion.\n\nPAPPY\nWhat's his name again?\n\nECKARD\nCampaign manager? Waldrip.\n\nSPIVEY\nVernon Waldrip.\n\nECKARD\nVernon T. Waldrip.\n\nPAPPY\nHmm... His folks from out Tuscarora?\n\nSPIVEY\nTuscarora? Might be. I b'lieve they\nis.\n\nECKARD\nNot a doubt in my mind.\n\nPappy is disgusted:\n\nPAPPY\nYou don't know where his goddamn\nfolks from; you speakin' outcha\nasshole.\n\nECKARD\nWell now Pappy I wouldn't put it\nthat strong...\n\nAs the three men make their way up the steps, Eckard's voice\nis fading:\n\nECKARD\n...but p'haps yaw right...\n\nIn wide shot, they disappear into the building.\n\nA reverse shows the wide shot to have been the point-of-view\nof Everett, Pete, Delmar and Tommy, who peek out from the\nmouth of an alley. Everett hisses his intelligence:\n\nEVERETT\nWell, it's a invitation-only affair;\nwe'll have to sneak in through the\nservice entrance-\n\nPETE\nWait a minute - who elected you leader\na this outfit? Since we been followin'\nyour lead we got nothin' but trouble!\nI gotten this close to bein' strung\nup, n'consumed in a fire, 'n whipped\nno end, 'n sunstroked, 'n soggied -\n\nDELMAR\n'N turned into a frog -\n\nEVERETT\nHe was never turned into a frog!\n\nDelmar sulks:\n\nDELMAR\nAlmost loved up though.\n\nEverett is stunned.\n\nEVERETT\nSo you're against me now, too!... Is\nthat how it is, boys?\n\nSilence. No one wants to meet Everett's eye. He is saddened.\n\nEVERETT\nThe whole world and God Almighty...\nand now you. Well, maybe I deserve\nthis. Boys, I... I know I've made\nsome tactical mistakes. But if you'll\njust stick with me; I need your help.\nAnd I've got a plan.  Believe me,\nboys, we can fix this thing! I can\nget my wife back! We can get outta\nhere!\n\nHeadlights play; the men suck back into the alley as a car\npasses by.\n\nThe car tools up to the banquet hall and Homer Stokes emerges\nwith his midget. The midget tosses his balled-up white hood\ninto the car and both men shrug into their suitcoats.\n\nStokes is angry:\n\nSTOKES\n...goddamn disgrace. Made a travesty\nof the entire evenin'...\n\nThey too start up the stairs. Stokes's pace is brisk and the\nmidget hops awkwardly to keep up.\n\nSTOKES\n...what I wouldn't give to get my\nhands on those agitators. Whoever\nheard a such behavior. Even among\nculluds. Or mulattos, maybe - I\nsuspect some miscegenation in their\nheritage... how else you goin' explain\nit - usin' the Confed'it flag as a\nmissile...\n\nBANQUET HALL KITCHEN\n\nEverett, Pete, Delmar and Tommy are entering through the\nback door. The blackface has been scrubbed off but all four\nnow wear long gray beards as disguise, clumsily affixed with\nspirit gum. Each is carrying a musical-instrument case.\n\nThey elbow past the bustling kitchen help.\n\nEVERETT\nScuse me... scuse me... we're the\nnext act...\n\nDELMAR\nEverett, my beard itches.\n\nPETE\nThis is crazy. No one's ever gonna\nbelieve we're a real band.\n\nEVERETT\nNo, this is gonna work! I just gotta\nget close enough to talk to her.\nTakin' off with us is got a lot more\nfuture in it than marrying a guy\nnamed Waldrip.  I'm goddamn bona\nfide. I've got the answers!\n\nHEAD TABLE\n\nOut in the banquet hall Penny and Waldrip sit side-by-side\nat the head table, surrounded by the Wharvey gals. Penny and\nWaldrip are facing the hall with their backs to the stage as\nthe four bearded band members - Everett, Pete, Delmar and\nTommy - take their places.\n\nPappy O'Daniel stands by Waldrip's chair with an arm draped\nover his shoulder, leaning in to murmur confidentially.\nWaldrip sits stiffly erect as he listens, frowning at a spot\nin space.\n\nSuddenly Waldrip erupts:\n\nWALDRIP\nWell that's a improper suggestion!\nI can't switch sides in the middle\nof a campaign!  Especially to work\nfor a man who lacks moral fibre!\n\nPAPPY\nMoral fibre?!\n\nHe waves his cane, outraged.\n\nPAPPY\nYou pasty-faced sonofabitch, I\ninvented moral fibre!\n\nUp on the stage, the band has launched into a song.\n\nPAPPY\nPappy O'Daniel was displayin'\nrectitude and high-mindedness when\nthat pencil-neck you work for was\nstill messin' his drawers!\n\nA hissed Voice:\n\nVOICE\nPsst! Penny! Hey! Up here!\n\nAs the two men continue to exchange sharp words, penny turns\nher head to look steeply up over her shoulder.\n\nEverett is up onstage just behind her. As the rest of the\nband continues to play, he is parting his beard to hiss down\nat her:\n\nEVERETT\nPenny! It's me!\n\nDismayed, she shakes her head and tries to unobtrusively\nwave him away. He is undeterred:\n\nEVERETT\nNo, Penny, listen! We're leavin' the\nstate! Pusuin' opportunities in\nanother venue! I got big plans! Not\nminstrelsy; this-here's just a dodge -\nI'm gonna be a dentist! I know a guy\nwho'll print me up a license! I wanna\nbe what you want me to be, honey! I\nwant you and the gals to come with\nme!\n\nShe shakes her head vigorously and looks down at her plate\nas Everett continues pleading to her back:\n\nEVERETT\nThey're my daughters, Penny! I'm the\nking a this goddamn castle!\n\nStokes has ambled up to the head table.\n\nSTOKES\nWhat're you doin' here, Pappy? I\nguess someone let on there was free\nliquor, heh-heh.\n\nPAPPY\nYeah, you'll be laughin' out the\nother side your face come November.\n\nECKARD\nPappy O'Daniel be laughing' then.\n\nSPIVEY\nNot out the other side his face,\nthough.\n\nECKARD\nOh no, no, just the reg'la side -\n\nThis byplay is interrupted by a roar from the crowd.\n\nThe band has launched into 'Man of Constant Sorrow',\nprecipitating the huge reaction. Everett, still trying to\nget Penny's attention, looks up, stunned at the ovation.\n\nCry from the crowd:\n\nVOICE\nHot damn! Itsa Soggy Bottom Boys!\n\nEverett and the boys, still singing, exchange bemused looks.\nA shrug, and they lean into the song with a will.\n\nEverett performs an impromptu buck-and-wing, bringing the\ncrowd to new heights of hysteria.\n\nPAPPY\nHoly-moly. These boys're a hit!\n\nJUNIOR\nBut Pappy, they's inter-grated.\n\nPAPPY\nWell I guess folks don't mind they's\nintegrated.\n\nStokes is also staring at the band, frowning. He murmurs to\nhimself:\n\nSTOKES\nWait a minute...\n\nEverett catches Stokes' look. The two men look at each other,\naghast.\n\nStokes raises his voice accusingly:\n\nSTOKES\n...you's miscegenated! All you boys!\nMiscegenated!\n\nEverett raises the volume of his singing. Stokes cries out:\n\nSTOKES\nGet me a mike-a-phone!\n\nA mike is thrust into his hand and he bellows into it,\noverwhelming the music, which the boys eventually abandon.\nStokes continues bellowing into the silence:\n\nSTOKES\nThese boys is not white! These boys\nis not white! Hell, they ain't even\nol'-timey! I happen to know, ladies'n\ngentlemen, this band a miscreants\nhere, this very evening, they\ninterfered with a lynch mob inna\nperformance of its duties!\n\nThe crowd stares at him, stone-faced. Stokes plows on:\n\nSTOKES\nIt's true! I b'long to a certain\nsociety, I don't believe I gotta\nmention its name, heh-heh...\n\nNobody joins in the laugh; Stokes slowly strangles on it.\n\nSTOKES\n...Ahem. And these boys here trampled\nall over our venerated observances\nan' rich'ls!  Now this-here music is\nover! I aim to -\n\nBoos start up among the crowd.\n\nSTOKES\nI aim to hand these boys over to -\nlisten to me, folks!\n\nThe boos are growing in volume. There are cries of 'More\nmusic!' and even one 'Shut up, pencil-neck!'\n\nSTOKES\nListen to me! These boys desecrated\na fiery cross!\n\nMore boos. Waldrip approaches and nudges the microphone away\nto murmur confidentially in Stokes' ear. Stokes excitedly\nretrieves the mike and struggles to be heard:\n\nSTOKES\nAnd they convicts! Fugitives, folks,\nescaped off the farm!\n\nThis cuts no ice; the boos have become overwhelming.\n\nSTOKES\nFolks, these boys gotta be remanded\nthe 'thorities! Criminals! And I\nhappen to have it from the highest\nauthority that that Neegra sold his\nsoul to the devil!\n\nHe is hit by a tomato.\n\nThe boos are deafening; the Soggy Bottom Boys, sensing\nopportunity, launch back into the interrupted verse of 'Man\nof Constant Sorrow'. The boos become wild cheers.\n\nStokes is being pelted by foodstuffs. Shielding himself with\none arm, he bellows into the mike:\n\nSTOKES\nWait a minute! Wait a minute! Is you\nis or is you ain't my constichency?\n\nINT. RUSTIC CABIN\n\nFar up some sleepy holler. An old man in overalls and his\nwife sit hunched before a crystal set, listening to the tinny\nvoice. They look at each other wordlessly, look back at the\ncrystal set.\n\nBACK TO BANQUET HALL\n\nStokes is almost drowned out by the music as his midget looks\napprehensively on.\n\nSTOKES\nIs you is or is you ain't -\n\nA disgruntled audience member yanks out the microphone plug;\nStokes continues to mouth the inaudible words.\n\nPappy is considering the crowd.\n\nPAPPY\nGoddamn! Oppitunity knocks!\n\nHe starts clambering up onto the stage.\n\nTwo men advance through the clapping audience holding high\neither end of an eight-foot rail. When they reach Stokes,\nother audience members help load him onto the rail.\n\nOnstage, Pappy claps along with the audience.\n\nAs they play, the band members fearfully eye Pappy, who\nadvances on them.\n\nPappy joyfully shakes his fat ass in time to the music and\ndoes a little two-step. The audience roars. The band relaxes,\nperforming with even more gusto.\n\nStokes is being through the crowd on the rail, jeered at and\npelted with comestibles until he bangs out the exit.\n\nAs the songs rolls into its big finish the audience roars\napproval, and Pappy elbows in to the microphone, beaming.\n\nPAPPY\nThat's fine, that's fine!...\n\nHe drops one arm around Everett, the other around Delmar.\n\nPAPPY\n...Ladies'n gentlemens here and\nlistenin' at home, the great state\nof Mississippi (Pappy O'Daniel,\nGov'nor) thanks the Soggy Bottom\nBoys for that won-a-ful performance!\n\nCheers.\n\nPAPPY\nNow it looks like the only man in\nour great state who ain't a music\nluvva, is my esteemed opponent in\nthe upcomin', Homer Stokes -\n\nBoos.\n\nPAPPY\nYeah, well, they ain't no accountin'\nf'taste. It sounded t'me like he\nharbored some kind a hateful grudge\nagainst the Soggy Bottom Boys on\naccount a their rough'n rowdy past.\n\nBoos.\n\nPAPPY\nSounds like Homer Stokes is the kinda\nfella gonna cast the first stone!\n\nBoos.\n\nPAPPY\nWell I'm with you folks. I'm a f'give\nand f'get Christian. And I say, well,\nif their rambunctiousness and\nmisdemeanorin' is behind 'em - It\nis, ain't it, boys?\n\nEverett hesitates, not sure where this is going.\n\nEVERETT\nSure is, Governor.\n\nPAPPY\nWhy then I say, by the par vested in\nme, these boys is hereby pardoned!\n\nLoud cheers prod Pappy to another level of inspiration:\n\nPAPPY\nAnd furthermore, in the second Pappy\nO'Daniel administration, why, these\nboys - is gonna be my brain trust!\n\nRaucous cheers.\n\nThe band beams, but Delmar leans into Everett, worried:\n\nDELMAR\nWhat sat mean exactly, Everett?\n\nEVERETT\nWell, you'n me'n Pete'n Tommy are\ngonna be the power behind the throne\nso to speak.\n\nDELMAR\nOh, okay.\n\nPAPPY\nSo now, without further ado, and by\nway of endorsin' my candidacy, the\nSoggy Bottom Boys is gonna lead us\nall in a chorus of 'You Are My\nSunshine' - ain't ya, boys?\n\nHe gives Everett a meaningful look, which Everett holds for\na considering beat.\n\nEVERETT\n...Governor - that's one of our\nfavorites!\n\nPappy returns a considered appraisal:\n\nPAPPY\nSon, you gonna go far.\n\nThe song begins.\n\nLATER\n\nThe steps of the meeting hall. People stream out of the\nconcert into the warm summer night.\n\nEverett, now relieved of his beard, is walking down the steps\nwith Penny.\n\nEVERETT\nI guess Vernon T. Waldrip is gonna\nbe goin' on relief. Maybe I'll be\nable to throw a little patronage his\nway, get the man a job diggin' ditches\nor rounding up stray dogs.\n\nDELMAR\nIs the marriage off then, Miz Wharvey?\n\nPENNY\nMcGill. No, the marriage'll take\nplace as planned.\n\nEVERETT\nJust a little change of cast. Me and\nthe little lady are gonna pick up\nthe pieces'n retie the knot,\nmixaphorically speakin'. You boys're\ninvited, of course. Hell, you're\nbest men! Already got the rings.\n\nHe raises Penny's left hand with his own to display their\nwedding bands - but Penny's finger is bare.\n\nEVERETT\nWhere's your ring, honey?\n\nPENNY\nI ain't worn it since our divorce\ncame through. It must still be in\nthe rolltop in the old cabin. Never\nthought I'd need it; Vernon bought\none encrusted with jewels.\n\nEVERETT\nHell, now's the time to buy it off\nhim cheap.\n\nPENNY\nWe ain't gettin' married with his\nring!  You said you'd changed!\n\nEVERETT\nAw, honey, our ring is just a old\npewter thing -\n\nPENNY\nAin't gonna be no weddin'.\n\nEVERETT\nIt's just a symbol, honey -\n\nPENNY\nNo weddin'.\n\nDELMAR\nWe'll go fetch it with ya, Everett.\n\nEVERETT\nHoney, it's just - Shutup, Delmar -\nit's just -\n\nPENNY\nI have spoken my piece and counted\nto three.\n\nShe walks off.\n\nEVERETT\nOh, goddamnit! She counted to three!\nSonofabitch! You know how far that\ncabin is?!\n\nHis attention, and everyone else's, is drawn by a procession\non the street below. A crowd carrying torches jogs behind a\nman in clanking leg irons and wrist manacles who is being\nescorted by four policemen trotting alongside, their\nnightsticks held across their chests in riot-ready formation.\n\nEverett and the rest of the Soggy Bottom Boys descend the\nlast couple of steps to meet the oncoming criminal. Delmar\ncries out:\n\nDELMAR\nGeorge!\n\nIt is indeed George Nelson, grinning and game despite his\nheavy restraints.\n\nGEORGE\n'Lo, boys! Well, these little men\nfinally caught up with the criminal\na the century! Looks like the chair\nfor George Nelson. Yup! Gonna\nelectrify me!  I'm gonna go off like\na Roman candle!  Twenty thousand\nvolts chasin' the rabbit through\nyours truly! Gonna shoot sparks out\nthe top of my head and lightning\nfrom my fingertips!\n\nAs he passes he turns to call back over his shoulder:\n\nGEORGE\nYessir! Gonna suck all the power\nright outa the state! Goddamn, boys,\nI'm on top of the world! I'M GEORGE\nNELSON AND I'M FEELIN' TEN FEET TALL!\n\nDelmar, smiling, shakes his head as he watches him go.\n\nDELMAR\nLooks like George is right back on\ntop again.\n\nBLACK\n\nIn the black we hear snuffling, growing louder, closer,\nslobberier.\n\nA crack of light. We are inside a cupboard. Its door is being\nnosed open by an eagerly sniffing snout.\n\nAs the door swings wide the inside of the cupboard is washed\nwith light. It contains, next to a tangled bunch of hairnets,\nseveral neatly stacked tins of Dapper Dan pomade.\n\nPINEY WOODS\n\nEverett, Pete, Delmar and Tommy are walking through the woods.\n\nEVERETT\nWell, at least you boys'll get to\nsee the old manse - the home where I\nspent so many happy days in the bosom\nof my family - a refugium, if you\nwill - with a mighty oak tree out\nfront and a happy little tire swing...\n\nThey emerge into a clearing. The cabin stands before them.\nIt is indeed a peaceful-looking haven with a mighty oak tree\nin front. There is, however, no tire swing; instead, three\nnooses hang from one stout limb.\n\nDELMAR\nWhere's the happy little tire swing?\n\nTwo shotgun-wielding goons fall in behind the four men and\npush them forward.\n\nMoving forward reveals, next to the oak tree, three fresh-\ndug graves. Standing at the far lip of each grave is a rough\npine coffin.\n\nThe sheriff with mirrored sunglasses, Cooley, steps off the\nporch, the drooling hound at his heels.\n\nCOOLEY\nEnd of the road, boys. It's had its\ntwists and turns -\n\nEVERETT\nWaitaminute -\n\nCOOLEY\n- but now it deposits you here.\n\nThe goons are shoving them toward the tree. Three\ngravediggers, having just finished their work, emerge from\nthe three graves. They are shirtless black men with bandannas\nround their necks.\n\nEVERETT\nWaitaminute -\n\nCOOLEY\nYou have eluded fate - and eluded me -\nfor the last time. Tie their hands,\nboys.\n\nEVERETT\nYou can't do this -\n\nCOOLEY\nDidn't know you'd be bringin' a\nfriend.  Well, he'll have to wait\nhis turn -\n\nEVERETT\nHang on there -\n\nCOOLEY\n- and share one of your graves.\n\nEVERETT\nYou can't do this - we just been\npardoned!  By the Governer himself!\n\nDELMAR\nIt went out over the radio!\n\nCOOLEY\nIs that right?\n\nThe leering goons, who have been lashing the men's wrists\nbehind their backs, pause, their sadism stymied. They look\nto Cooley for guidance.\n\nSo too does the drooling hound.\n\nSilence.\n\nFinally:\n\nCOOLEY\n...Too bad we don't have a radio.\n\nThe goons recover their leering grins and resume their happy\ntask.\n\nThe gravediggers stand next to the graves, leaning on their\nshovels. They begin to sing a slow and dirgelike 'You've Got\nto Walk That Lonesome Valley'. Sweat glistens on them and\ntrickles down their faces like tears.\n\nPETE\nGod have Mercy!\n\nTOMMY\nIt ain't fittin'!\n\nEVERETT\nIt ain't the law!\n\nCOOLEY\nThe law. Well the law is a human\ninstitution.\n\nCooley gives the faintest smile.\n\nCOOLEY\nPerhaps you should take a moment for\nyour prayers.\n\nPETE\nOh my God! Everett!\n\nDELMAR\nI'm sorry we got you into this, Tommy.\n\nPETE\nGood Lord, what do we do?\n\nPete is in tears. Tommy is terrified. Delmar bows his head\nto silently pray.\n\nEverett bows his head as well. He murmurs:\n\nEVERETT\nOh Lord, please look down and\nrecognize us poor sinners... please\nLord...\n\nThe singing of the gravediggers begins a mournful swell.\n\nEVERETT\n...I just want to see my daughters\nagain.  Oh Lord, I've been separated\nfrom my family for so long...\n\nThe mournfully building song is now supported by a bass more\npalpable than audible - the song, it seems, rising out of\nthe earth itself.\n\nEVERETT\n...I know I've been guilty of pride\nand sharp dealing. I'm sorry that I\nturned my back on you, Lord. Please\nforgive me, and help us, Lord, and I\nswear I'll mend my ways... For the\nsake of my family... For Tommy's\nsake, and Delmar's, and Pete's...\n\nThe rumble is building.\n\nEVERETT\n...Let me see my daughters again.\nPlease, Lord, help us... Please help\nus...\n\nThe rumble erupts into a deafening roar.\n\nA wall of water is crashing through the hollow.\n\nIt engulfs everything and everybody. The cabin itself is\nripped away; the Soggy Bottom Boys are knocked off their\nfeet and all is noise and confusion.\n\nUNDERWATER\n\nA silent world. Everett tumbles in the current in natural\nslow motion.\n\nSuspended around him are scores of tins of Dapper Dan pomade.\n\nOther objects spin slowly by; framed sepia-tinted family\nportraits, tree limbs, a fishing pole, an outhouse door, a\nfrying pan, a noose, an old banjo, the wild-eyed frantically\npaddling bloodhound, a tire with a rope tied around it.\n\nFURTHER DOWNHILL\n\nThe churning torrent opens into a lowland to become a newly\ncreated river, fast-moving but no longer violent.\n\nAfter a beat of hold on the rippling waters, the surface is\nbroken by the up-bob of a pine coffin.\n\nThe coffin floats downstream for a beat and then Everett\npops out of the water next to it, gasping for air, shaking\nhis head clear of water, and moving his shoulders to finish\nfreeing himself from the rope round his wrists.\n\nPete and Delmar emerge nearby, gasping for air.\n\nThe men hang onto the coffin, which bears them downstream.\nDazed, they look around.\n\nThe inundated valley shows only the occasional roof- or\ntreetop poking out of the newly formed river. All is quiet\nexcept for the gurgle of water.\n\nDELMAR\nA miracle! It was a miracle!\n\nEVERETT\nAw, don't be ignorant, Delmar. I\ntold you they was gonna flood this\nvalley.\n\nDELMAR\nThat ain't it!\n\nPETE\nWe prayed to God and he pitied us!\n\nEVERETT\nIt just never fails; once again you\ntwo hayseeds are showin' how much\nyou want for innalect. There's a\nperfectly scientific explanation for\nwhat just happened -\n\nPETE\nThat ain't the tune you were singin'\nback there at the gallows!\n\nEVERETT\nWell any human being will cast about\nin a moment of stress. No, the fact\nis, they're flooding this valley so\nthey can hydro-electric up the whole\ndurned state...\n\nEverett waxes smug:\n\nEVERETT\nYessir, the South is gonna change.\nEverything's gonna be put on\nelectricity and run on a payin' basis.\nOut with the old spiritual mumbo-\njumbo, the superstitions and the\nbackward ways. We're gonna see a\nbrave new world where they run\neveryone a wire and hook us all up\nto a grid. Yessir, a veritable age\nof reason - like the one they had in\nFrance - and not a moment too soon...\n\nHis voice trails off as he notices something.\n\nA cottonhouse in the middle of the river is submerged to its\neaves. A cow has taken refuge on its roof. It stands staring\nat Everett, who returns the stare.\n\nHe shakes off the vision and clears his throat.\n\nEVERETT\nNot a moment too soon. Say, there's\nTommy!\n\nTommy has indeed just surfaced downstream, clinging to a\nhalf-submerged piece of furniture.\n\nEVERETT\nWhat you ridin' there, Tommy?\n\nThe furniture beneath him begins to rotate in the current\nand, to keep his head above water, Tommy climbs in place\nlike a hamster on a wheel. As the chest exposes its ribbed\nupper half:\n\nTOMMY\nRolltop desk...\n\nSTREET\n\nEverett and Penny walk arm in arm, the seven Wharvey gals\nbehind. The girls sing 'Angel Band' as the grown-ups talk.\n\nEVERETT\nAll's well that ends well, as the\npoet says.\n\nPENNY\nThat's right, honey.\n\nEVERETT\nBut I don't mind telling you, I'm\nawful pleased my adventuring days is\nat an end...\n\nHe fumbles in his pocket.\n\nEVERETT\n...Time for this old boy to enjoy\nsome repose.\n\nPENNY\nThat's good, honey.\n\nEVERETT\nAnd you were right about that ring.\nAny other weddin' band would not do.\nBut this-here was foreordained, honey;\nfate was a-smilin' on me, and ya\nhave to have confidence -\n\nHe is slipping it onto her hand.\n\nPENNY\nThat's not my ring.\n\nEVERETT\n- in the gods - Huh?\n\nPENNY\nThat's not my ring.\n\nEVERETT\nNot your...\n\nPENNY\nThat's one of Aunt Hurlene's.\n\nEVERETT\nYou said it was in the rolltop desk!\n\nPENNY\nI said I thought it was in the rolltop\ndesk.\n\nEVERETT\nYou said -\n\nPENNY\nOr, it might a been under the\nmattress.\n\nEVERETT\nYou -\n\nPENNY\nOr in my chiffonier. I don't know.\n\nEverett shakes his head.\n\nEVERETT\nWell, I'm sorry honey -\n\nPENNY\nWell, we need that ring.\n\nEVERETT\nWell now honey, that ring is at the\nbottom of a pretty durned big lake.\n\nPENNY\nUh-huh.\n\nEVERETT\nA 9,000-hectacre lake, honey.\n\nPENNY\nI don't care if it's ninety thousand.\n\nEVERETT\nYes, but honey -\n\nPENNY\nThat wasn't my doing...\n\nIndignation quickens her pace. Everett keeps up, and the two\nare pulling forward out of frame.\n\nEVERETT\nCourse not, honey, but...\n\nWe are now on the Wharvey gals who follow in a ragged bunch,\nstill singing. From somewhere distant, through the song, we\ncan just hear a rhythmic clack of metal on metal.\n\nThe second-to-last girl is the oldest; she holds a piece of\nstring along which we travel, still listening to Penny and\nEverett, off:\n\nPENNY\nI counted to three, honey.\n\nEVERETT\nWell sure, honey, but...\n\nWe reach the end of the piece of string; it is wrapped around\nthe waist of the toddler, who lingers in frame. She gazes\ndown a quiet street at the edge of town that ends in an open\nfield.\n\nEVERETT\n...finding one little ring in the\nmiddle of all that water...\n\nHis voice, and that of the singing girls, recedes.\n\nEVERETT\n...that is one hell of a heroic\ntask...\n\nThe string is given a tug and the little girl waddles out of\nframe.\n\nA train track is thus revealed in the distance. The rhythmic\nclack is from the hand-pumped flatcar.\n\nThe blind seer pumps the car along the distant track, singing\nharmony under the Wharvey gals' receding voices.\n\nTHE END\n\n\n<\/pre>\n<p><a href='\/app\/script.html?data=O Brother Where Art Thou Script.txt' target='_blank'>More&#8230;<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>O Brother Where Art Thou? Script at IMSDb. The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web&#8217;s largest movie script resource! &#8220;O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU&#8221; &#8220;O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU&#8221; By Ethan Coen and Joel Coen BLACK In black, we hear a chain-gang chant, many voices together, spaced around the unison strike of picks against &hellip; <\/p>\n<p class=\"link-more\"><a href=\"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/?p=13883\" class=\"more-link\">\ub354 \ubcf4\uae30<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;[Movie Script]O Brother Where Art Thou&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[10453],"tags":[10454],"class_list":["post-13883","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-movie-script","tag-MovieScript","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13883","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=13883"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13883\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=13883"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=13883"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=13883"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}