FADE IN: INT. TV STUDIO - DAY A Susskind-type MODERATOR is speaking into camera: MODERATOR Tonight we'll discuss a subject most of us seem to consider either bad taste or frivolous or funny. But if our experts are right, we face what might be called a masculinity crisis. Every fourth American man uptight, threatened by the increasing sexual demands of American women... EXT. SIDEWALK INTERVIEW - DAY An IRATE WOMAN speaks into camera: IRATE WOMAN They always put it that way, but well, all it means, you know, is every fourth American woman's never satisfied. That's it. I never am -- have been, you know... EXT. SIDEWALK INTERVIEW - DAY A COOL WOMAN speaks into camera: COOL WOMAN This, this image of the, the man eating woman. It isn't our increasing demands. I think it's the shrinking American male... EXT. SIDEWALK INTERVIEW - DAY A SAD WOMAN speaks into camera: SAD WOMAN No, I never had, well, whatever it is you call it. But the hours he works, I can't blame him... INT. CAFETERIA SCULLERY (TEXAS) - DAY Full frame -- a scandal sheet picture of a sex-starved wife, naked while her husband sleeps, captioned I BUY WHAT MY HUSBAND CAN'T GIVE. SAD WOMAN'S VOICE ... but it's a problem. A big problem. With so many women I know... Camera pulls back to show the picture among other pinups of women -- rich, beautiful or naked, but all blonde -- steam wilted on the wall over a dishwashing machine. JOE BUCK grins at the wall as he scrapes garbage. JOB Just keep your pants on, ladies... MULTIPLE SPLIT SCREEN A LADY COMMENTATOR, gradually surrounded by lonely women... BEAUTY PARLOR FASHION SHOW PSYCHIATRIST'S COUCH COCKTAIL BAR GYMNASIUM STATUE OF LIBERTY LADY COMMENTATOR Before World War One -- American men outnumbered women by over six percent. Today American women not only outnumber men, but live five years longer -- leaving them in control of vast corporate wealth and seventy-five percent of America's purchasing power... The Lady Commentator is replaced by Joe, stacking dishes, surrounded by frustrated ladies. He laughs tolerantly. JOE Y'all,line up and take your turn... INT. TV STUDIO - DAY The Moderator smiles into camera. MODERATOR My question is this -- will American know-how come up with a marketable male to replace all the men who are worrying themselves into an early grave over women's increasing sexual demands? INT. STALL SHOWER - DAY Joe sings as he soaps himself, "Whoopee ti yi yo, git along little dogies, for you know New York will be your new home!" Sound and image freeze on Joe's open mouth. SUPERIMPOSED MAIN TITLE AND CREDITS TITLES follow as indicated, sound and action continuing after each credit. INT. SUNSHINE CAFETERIA - DAY Joe's song continues over a sweating WAITRESS, glancing up. WAITRESS Where's that Joe Buck? INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY Wrapped in a towel, singing in front of his dresser mirror, Joe sprays himself with deodorant, aiming a last playful blast at the unseen crotch -- freezing song and image as CREDITS continue over... ... a calendar girl on the wall blushing orange, mouth frozen in a tiny O, staring wide-eyed. Joe's song continues as... ... Joe rips the wrapping from a new Stetson and sets it on his head, freezing song and image as CREDITS continue. INT. CAFETERIA SCULLERY - DAY RALPH, an aging black man, faces a mountain of dirty dishes. RALPH Where's that Joe Buck? INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY Singing as he buttons his new cowboy shirt, Joe interrupts himself to answer Ralph... JOE Yeah, where's that Joe Buck? ... continuing his song as he pulls up and zips his tight thighed black slacks, freezing song and image for CREDITS. INT. REMEMBERED BEAUTY PARLOR - ANOTHER TIME SALLY BUCK, a pretty middle-aged blonde, smiles down at camera, SALLY BUCK You look real nice, Joe baby... INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY Joe sings as he pulls on his new cowboy boots, arranging his cuffs to show off the yellow sunburst at the ankle, freezing song and image for CREDITS. INT. SUNSHINE CAFETERIA - DAY The pink MANAGER scowls at his pocket watch. MANAGER Where's that Joe Buck? INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY Joe hums as he piles a complete wardrobe of cowboy clothes, still in their wrappers, into a shiny new suitcase of black and white horsehide. JOE Yeah, where's that Joe Buck? INT. SUNSHINE CAFETERIA - DAY Holding his watch, the Manager wags a finger at camera. MANAGER You're due here at four o'clock. Look at those dishes, look! INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY Joe laughs as he locks his suitcase. JOE Know what you can do with those dishes? And if you ain't man enough to do it yourself, I'd be happy to oblige... Joe picks up his suitcase, a portable transistor radio, walks away from the mirror, then pauses to run a comb through his hair, hook a cigarette at the corner of his mouth and strike a match on his thumbnail before he turns back for one admiring glance at himself in the mirror -- proud, exultant, ready -- freezing the image as CREDITS END. EXT. TEXAS TOWN MAIN STREET - DAY Joe leaves the hotel, carrying his suitcase. INT. CAFETERIA SCULLERY - DAY The pink Manager points at his watch angrily. MANAGER Four to midnight, understand? Angle widens to include Joe, holding his suitcase and radio. Ralph stares at him curiously, stacking dishes. JOE Say, look, uh, I gotta have a word with you, if you got a second. MANAGER Later. Later maybe. The Manager hurries away, carrying a basket of dishes. RALPH You ain't coming to work? JOE Don't guess. Just come for my day's pay owing and to tell you I'm heading East. Joe tilts his Stetson as the Waitress appears at the door... WAITRESS Cups! ... but she disappears without noticing Joe. Ralph offers his hand. Joe takes it, holds it. RALPH What you gonna do back there, East? JOE Lotta rich women back there... RALPH Yeah? JOE Men, they mostly faggots. RALPH Must be some mess back there. JOE Well, ain't no use hanging around here. RALPH Ain't gonna collect your pay? JOE I got me two hundred twenty-four bucks of flat folding money... (slaps hip) He know what he can do with that chicken-shit day's pay. And if he ain't man enough to do it for himself, I be happy to oblige! INT. SUNSHINE CAFETERIA - DAY The door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY swings open and Joe appears, measuring his effect on the customers and his fellow employees as he crosses the sterile white dining room, observing the drab details of the life he has left behind - garbage on greasy dishes, limp food in steam table trays, coffee-soaked cigarette butts, caked mustard and ketchup on formica table tops -- two pimply high school girls slurping suggestive noises after Joe through the straws of empty coke glasses. O.S. a Tiomkin-tradition chorus sings, "From this valley they say you are going -- we will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile for they say you are taking the sunshine..." EXT. TOWN MAIN STREET - DAY The song ends as Joe comes from the cafeteria "... that brightened our pathway a while." JOE Tough tiddy, ladies, you had your chance. From a high angle -- Joe starts his long walk toward the bus depot along the street of a small Western town struggling to urbanize itself. The click-clack-click of his boots is loud but somehow lonely The radio at his ear drones grain prices on the Commodity change. Joe's pace slows as he passes... EXT. SALLY BUCK'S BEAUTY SALON - DAY ... a gilt-lettered sign in the window, glittering in the sun, momentarily hiding the fact that the shop is deserted. Joe grins as he hears remembered sounds and voices incomplete flashes, more significant in tone than content a girl giggling sexily -- "Keep your meat hooks off my beauty operators, sugar" -- tinkling noises of a busy beauty parlor - Sally Buck singing "Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Grammaw gonna buy you a mockingbird..." ... a shift of light revealing a row of tarnished driers, a broken mirror, a FOR RENT sign in the window. Joe turns toward the bus depot, radio pressed to his ear. ANNOUNCER'S VOICE Benson and Hedges One Hundreds makes special awards from time to time for anything that's longer than anything... JOE Care to get out your yardstick, gentlemen? At the same moment, a recognizable variant of the "Big Country" theme blares loud. INTERCUT WESTERN FILM CLIP Gary Cooper (or John Wayne) walks a frontier street. EXT. BUS DEPOT - DAY High angle of the departing bus, intercut "Big Country" fashion, alternating high shots with close-ups of the bus wheals. EXT. FREEWAY CLOVERLEAF - DAY Through the bus windshield -- a dizzying montage of traffic lines, arrows and signs as the bus sweeps around and up onto the freeway. INT. BUS - DAY Joe sits at the front, opposite the driver, cracking his gum as he watches the huge billboards streaking by, promising him power, happiness and beautiful women if he chooses the right breakfast food, hair oil or automobile. Joe listens to the humming tires, the roar of the engine, shaking his head. JOE This is a powerful mothah, ain't it? Ignored by the driver, Joe rises and walks back to his empty double seat, glancing around to see what impression he's made on his immediate fellow travelers -- an OLD LADY in front of him -- a hostile young sailor with acne behind him -- two teeny-boppers flirting with Joe hysterically -- a PALE BLONDE directly across the aisle, smiling at Joe weakly. PALE BLONDE Do you have a stick of gum? Joe leans across, snapping his gum as he offers her a stick. He watches her nibble it daintily on her front teeth. PALE BLONDE (CONT'D) Thank you. JOE Plenty more where that came from. PALE BLONDE Thank you, no, it's just till the Dramamine works. I get carsick. JOE I only get carsick on boats. (waits, then) But seems to me that's more the fish smell than the bouncing... Joe realizes that her eyes are closed. Mildly depressed, he stretches himself across both seats and turns on his radio, finds only static and snaps it off. Further depressed, he examines his reflection in the bus window, squeezes a black head and runs the comb through his hair, picks a piece of tobacco off his tooth and lights a cigarette, watching the flame die in reflection, forgetting to discard the burnt-out match as he stares out at a vast lonely prairie, a solitary cowboy in the distance, a row of sharecropper shacks apparently deserted, a barefoot little girl motionless at the roadside, watching the bus pass. Through this, leading into the next scene, Sally Buck sings softly "... if that mocking bird don't sing, Grammaw gonna buy you a golden ring..." INT. REMEMBERED BEAUTY SALON - ANOTHER TIME Sally Buck, relaxing in the middle of a busy day, eyes closed wearily, while little Joe massages her neck. Her song continues over the noises of the busy beauty parlor "... if that golden ring turns brass, Grammaw gonna buy you a looking glass..." SALLY BUCK No, a little lower, sugar, yeah, yeah, that's good. Grammaw's beat. SALESMAN'S VOICE You gotta sell yourself, that's the whole trick... INT. BUS - DAY A seedy TRAVELING SALESMAN with badly-fitted dentures and a frayed collar has taken the aisle seat next to Joe. As he lectures Joe on salesmanship, he figures his expenses in a worn leatherette notebook, nervous fingers and eyes unconsciously revealing the extent of his failure. SALESMAN It ain't the product and it ain't the price, no sir, and it ain't what you sell, it's personality, pure and simple. I ain't shined my own shoes or shaved my own face in forty years, how's that? Not bad for a kid that didn't pass the eighth grade, right? JOE Yeah, hell, yeah. SALESMAN And that's my golden rule. Make 'em love you. Put yourself over and you can sell them anything. If they like you, they'll buy horsemeat for prime beef... INT. REMEMBERED BEAUTY SALON - ANOTHER TIME A gawky, adolescent Joe sits sprawled on the couch, leafing through a magazine while Sally Buck bleaches the roots of a young woman's hair. SALLY BUCK You get him to the church, honey. He ain't gonna find out you ain't a real blonde till after you're married, then's too late. Sally Buck turns, pretending to be stern as Toe laughs. SALLY BUCK (CONT'D) You getting too big for your britches, sugar. EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT The headlights of the bus flash past a huge sign, painted on the slant roof of a barn: JESUS SAVES. INT. BUS - NIGHT Joe is alone again. The Salesman has disappeared. The bus is dark, most-passengers trying to sleep. Only one reading light still burns, over the head of the old-Lady in the seat ahead of Joe. Joe squirms, restless, trying to lull himself to sleep with the music of a revivalist gospel group on the radio. SALLY BUCK'S VOICE Don't forget to say your prayers, honey... Joe leans forward to help the old Lady, irritably struggling with the release button on her seat. She scowls as Joe leans over to release her seat, then pulls her blanket around her and turns away from him. Joe switches off her reading light. OLD LADY I want it on. Joe switches it on again, fakes a good-natured grin, settles back with his radio, aware of an OLD COWHAND seated opposite him, replacing the Pale Blonde. The Old Cowhand is appraising Joe's wardrobe curiously. He looks away when he sees Joe watching him. Joe settles back, unable to think of a way to open a conversation. EVANGELIST'S VOICE Oh, my friends, I say unto you, invest with Jesus, put your dollars to work where they'll pay off at compound interest. The Good Book says money answereth all things... The Old Cowhand has rolled-himself a cigarette. Joe quickly lights a match on his thumb and holds it across the aisle. JOE Light? The Old Cowhand's "thanks" is lost in a fit of coughing as he inhales his first drag. He settles back, wiping his watery eyes on a faded bandana. EVANGELIST'S VOICE ... everyone who sends a dollar to the Evangelical Congregation of the Air will get free gratis a genuine leatherette hymn book so you can sing along with Sister Rosella and the Evangelical Choir... JOE You throw in Sister Rosella and you got a deal, right, old timer? Joe glances across the aisle. The Old Cowhand manages a faint, humorless smile. JOE (CONT'D) Going far? OLD COWHAND Up the line. Not far. JOE I'm bound for New York City. The Old Cowhand reappraises Joe's wardrobe even more curiously. JOE (CONT'D) Ever happen to come across a cowman name of Woodsy Niles? Friend of my grammaw Sally Buck... The Old Cowhand considers, shakes his head. Joe leans back, laughing to himself. INT. REMEMBERED BEDROOM - ANOTHER TIME Little Joe's head is lost in a beat-up cowboy hat, similar to the one worn by the old Cowhand. Sally Buck smiles on WOODSY NILES -- a long-legged cowboy with a shock of black hair -- who stands at her dressing table, admiring himself in a new Stetson. SALLY BUCK Like it, honey? Does it fit? WOODSY You do me good, Sal, you do me real good. You know what I gonna give you for that Stetson? Woodsy grabs Sally Buck, lifting her off her feet, carrying her to the bed. Struggling, they fall across the covers together, Little Joe laughing with them. SALLY BUCK Woodsy Niles! The boy! WOODSY He don't know what makes little apples by now, it's time he found out. INT. BUS - NIGHT Joe shakes his head, grinning, offering the old Cowhand a cigarette. JOE Smoke? The old Cowhand shakes his head, showing the rolled cigarette Joe lit for him. Joe nods, still bemused. INT. REMEMBERED BEDROOM - ANOTHER TIME Little Joe is cuddled in Sally Buck's arms, under the covers, watching Woodsy, sitting cross-legged on the bed, naked except for his Stetson and guitar, singing drunkenly. WOODSY ... git along little dogies! EXT. MIDWEST TOWN - MORNING From a high angle -- the bus slows to a stop. INT. BUS - MORNING Joe awakens, stiff-necked, momentarily confused. He straightens in his seat as he sees the old Cowhand lifting a sweat-stained saddle down from the overhead rack, starting toward the front of the bus. Joe calls after him. JOE Nice talking to you, old timer. Joe stuffs a stick of gum in his mouth, turns to wave at the Old Cowhand through the window as the bus pulls away. WOODSY'S VOICE She-dogs squat, boy. He-dogs stand up and lift their leg... INT. REMEMBERED MEN'S ROOM - ANOTHER TIME Woodsy, in his new Stetson, watches Little Joe in his beat-up cowboy hat, trying to balance on one foot, one leg lifted in front of the trough. Woodsy roars with laughter. WOODSY ... but he-men stand and shoot from the hip. INT. BUS RESTROOM - DAY Joe laughs, flushes, checks his hair in the mirror. EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY The bus streaks past a brightly-colored billboard -- IN NEW YORK, A WELCOME AWAITS YOU AT THE TIMES SQUARE PALACE HOTEL! INT. BUS - DAY Joe is now sitting in the wide rear seat, between two young MARINES and a group of VETERANS wearing campaign caps and convention buttons, passing a bottle, singing "From the Balls of Montezuma to the Shores of Tripoli..." Joe follows the conversation between a VETERAN and a MARINE, participating only because he's sitting beside them, adopting a remembered military stance. VETERAN Ever stationed at Kennedy? Those Florida chicks... MARINE Instant V-goddam-D. VETERAN This Pensacola teeny-bopper -- jail bait -- but built? Ten bucks she wanted. Three of us made a deal for, twenty-five, see, big goddam bargain? MARINE Big peni-goddam-cillin bargain, right? VETERAN You got it. MARINE No. You got it. JOE Jesus goddam Christ, I ain't laughed so hard since I was out at Fort Benning, Georgia. MARINE Did you make the Viet? JOE What? Oh, hell no. Motor pool mostly... (shakes his head) Kee-rist... INT. REMEMBERED WHOREHOUSE - ANOTEER TIME A plump, aging PROSTITUTE laughs up into camera. PROSTITUTE Hey, hey, what you try to do to me? You gonna cost me money, soldier! INT. BUS - DAY Joe laughs as he passes the bottle, trying to sing along without knowing the words as the Veterans segue into "Over hill, over dale, we will hit the dusty trail, as the caissons go rolling along..." INT. REMEMBERED BEAUTY SALON - ANOTHER TIME Sally Buck fondly wipes lipstick from Joe's lips. SALLY BUCK Keep your meat hooks off my operators, sugar, hear? INT. BUS - DAY Joe slaps one of the Veterans on the back, trying to follow the song into "Off we go, into the wild blue yonder..." INT. REMEMBERED MOVIE HOUSE - ANOTHER TIME ANASTASIA clutches a younger Joe, eyes wild, gasping. ANASTASIA You're the only one, Joe, the only, only one ever! INT. BUS - DAY Joe is leaning across the two Marines, staring out of the window as the Veterans switch to "Anchors aweigh, my boys, anchors aweigh..." EXT. MANHATTAN SKYLINE - DAY A stunning view through the bus window past Joe's reflection. JOE'S REFLECTION Gonna swing my lasso and rope that whole goddam island, yeah! EXT. BROADWAY PARADE - DAY Drum majorettes leading the parade -- ticker tape and confetti -- girls at skyscraper windows. INTERCUT NEWSREEL CLIP Charles Lindberg (or James Stewart) waving at the crowd. EXT. NEW YORK HARBOR - DAY Girls lining the piers -- flags, banners, bunting -- ship horns, whistles, bells. INT. BUS - DAY Joe crowded as the veterans prepare to leave the bus, lifting down banners and flags. EXT. LINCOLN TUNNEEL - DAY The bus suddenly surrounded by converging traffic, horns honking, segueing into the noises of Times Square. EXT. MARQUEE - DAY Flag draped, reading: WELCOME VETERANS. EXT. STREET - BANNER - DAY Flapping in the wind -- WELCOME VETERANS! EXT. TIMES SQUARE PALACE HOTEL - DAY The marquee announces TRANSIENTS WELCOME. O.S. a singing radio station break blares "W-I-N-S NEW YORK..." EXT. RADIO TOWER - DAY The sign flashes WINS "... ten-ten on your dial!" A torchy woman's voice sings from a lonely echo chamber -- introducing a love theme which will haunt Joe throughout the film. INT. ROOM 1014 - DAY Joe sets his radio on the dresser, his suitcase on the bed, then turns to examine his new home -- as anonymous as his Texas hotel room -- but boasting a coin-operated television set. Fascinated, Joe inserts a quarter. ... the love song continues over a television talk Show featuring a POODLE WIGMAKER defending his profession against a Joe Pyne-type PANEL HOST, "...well, I perform a real service, there's a need, so many people, you know, really live in their pets, I mean, lonely, I grant you, but their feeling is real. They want to lavish as much love, give them as much, yes, pamper them like they were really human children or whatever..." SALLY BUCK'S VOICE There's a TV dinner in the fridge, lover boy... INT. REMEMBERED PARLOR - ANOTHER TIME Little Joe stares sullenly at an antique TV box while Sally Buck puts her hat on at the fireplace mirror. There is a framed picture of Woodsy Niles on the mantle. SALLY BUCK You be okay, won't you? Maybe I bring you a treat if you're a good boy... INT. ROOM 1014 - DAY Joe watches the Panel Host, "... you're a nut case, fella, a real nut case..." INT. REMEMBERED BEAUTY SALON - ANOTHER TIME Little Joe massaging Sally Buck's neck -- continuing the earlier scene. SALLY BUCK I'm so beat, no point you waiting round, toots, think I'll stop in for a beer or two... INT. ROOM 1014 - DAY Joe sits on the edge of the bed, watching the poodles primp. INT. REMEMBERED PARLOR - ANOTEER TIME Little Joe stares unblinking at the TV screen as Sally Buck kisses him on the forehead, dressed for the street. SALLY BUCK Expect me when you see me. Looks like I got me a new beau, lover boy, how's that for an old grammaw? I'll leave you movie money... Sally Buck tucks a dollar bill under a framed picture of Jesus, who has replaced Woodsy Niles on the mantle. INT. ROOM 1014 - DAY As a fairy godmother's magic wand removes sticky hair spray from a pretty model's head, Joe's quarter runs out and the screen goes blank. At the same moment, the love song is cut off by a singing station break "W-I-N-S NEW YORK" Joe rises, flipping the dial of the radio to a cultured woman's voice reading "...the Dow Jones averages, brought you by Morgan Vandercook. Up your income with sound investment counseling..." JOE Up yours, lady. ... but Joe leaves the lady on, savoring the expensive sound of her voice reading the stock quotations. Joe seats himself at the desk, pleased to find a postcard photograph of the hotel. He picks up a ballpoint pen, counts ten floors up from the street and marks a huge X -- THIS IS ME, then turns the card over, pen poised over the address blank. INT. CAFETERIA SCULLERY - DAY Ralph stares at the card, surrounded by dirty dishes. RALPH Hell, he know I can't read... INT. ROOM 1014 - DAY Joe's pen wavers, starts to write and stops. EXT. SALLY BUCK'S BEAUTY PARLOR - DAY As we saw it last, deserted, a FOR RENT sign in the window. Joe's reflection appears, staring at himself, dressed in his dishwasher's clothes. JOE'S VOICE After all them dishes are washed, what? JOE'S REFLECTION Then they bring some more dishes and I wash them and then I, uh, sleep some and then wash some more dishes and then I... JOE'S VOICE Say it, lover boy! JOE'S REFLECTION Die. INT. ROOM 1014 - DAY Joe stares at the postcard, bemused, JOE'S VOICE Well, you better just shake your tail, lover boy, and root, hog or die. Joe rises abruptly, rips up the postcard and tosses it out the window. JOE Goddam if I came to this town to write postcards. EXT. TIMES SQUARE - DAY The torn fragments flutter down on the crowd -- a woman brushing irritably at her hair -- a man grimacing, glancing up -- a cop removing his hat to examine it. EXT. TIMES SQUARE PALACE HOTEL - DAY From a low angle -- identical with the postcard photograph -- an unseen hand scrawls a huge X--- THIS IS ME. Camera zooms up to a close-up of Joe at the window. EXT. FIFTH AVENUE - DAY From on high -- as though Joe were watching himself -- the Stetson moves through a crowd of Fifth Avenue shoppers... EXT. GLASS BUILDING - DAY ... passing a glass bank, lady tellers counting money... EXT. CAR SHOWROOM - DAY ... passing a display of imported luxury cars... EXT. JEWELRY STORE - DAY ... passing a window which features a single gem -- pausing as horns blast O.S. and a mod blonde in a stalled sports car motions to Joe -- she needs a push. Joe grins, glances at himself in the window, runs a comb through his hair, then turns back to see a cop helping the mod blonde. EXT. PARK AVENUE - DAY Joe's heels drag as he walks a deserted block of luxury apartment houses. O.S. The torchy woman's voice sings Joe's love theme in counterpoint to the blasting horns, a siren, a fire bell, a screech of brakes. Joe's spirits rise as he hears the tic-tac-tic of high heels overtaking the heavy click-clack-click of his boots. He adjusts his pace to arrive at the corner at the same time as a smart and -- in Joe's eyes -- very RICH LADY. Joe grins boyishly, holding his Stetson over his heart. JOE Beg pardon, ma'am, I'm new here in town, just in from Houston, Texas, and looking for the Statue of Liberty. The delicate profile gives no signs of hearing. Joe follows her to the parkway in the middle of the avenue. There she stops and turns, neither friendly nor hostile. RICH LADY Were you looking? About the Statue of Liberty? JOE Joking? No, ma'am. Oh no! I mean business! RICH LADY I'm sorry. I thought you were -- never mind -- I've never actually been there, but let me see, you take the Seventh Avenue subway, I think, to the end of the line... JOE You sure are a pretty lady. The Rich Lady tries to frown, taken aback, blushing. RICH LADY You're not looking for the Statue of Liberty at all. JOE No, ma'am, I'm not. RICH LADY Why, that's perfectly dreadful. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? A twinkle of amusement and sympathy reveals the age lines at the corner of her eyes. Then she continues on quickly, just as the light turns. Joe's view is blocked for a moment by traffic, then he sees... ... the Rich Lady, newly aware of her flanks as she climbs the steps of a brownstone and searches for her key. Still from Joe's viewpoint, he sees himself move into frame and follow the Rich Lady up the steps. The love theme swells O.S. as the Rich Lady leads him into the house and closes the door... ... leaving Joe standing alone on the parkway island, surrounded by towering wealth. The love theme continues over... EXT. LEXINGTON AVENUE - DAY ... a pair of high-heeled pink slippers, walking a miniature poodle -- slowing slightly, reacting to Joe's cowboy boots as they pass, pause and turn back. CASS'S VOICE Hurry up, Baby. Do um goody-goods for Mama. Joe grins, holding his hat over his heart as he approaches CASS TREHUNE, a blonde lady in a tight black dress, with the look of a movie star who wrecked her career with food. JOE Beg pardon, ma'am. I'm brand spanking new to this town, come from Houston, Texas, and hoping to get a look at the Statue of Liberty... CASS You're hoping to get a look at what? JOE The Statue of Liberty. CASS It's up in Central Park, taking a leak. If you hurry, you'll make the supper show. Now get lost. But as she turns, Cass winks, dimpling the corners of her mouth, signaling Joe to follow her. INT. APARTMENT HOUSE ELEVATOR - DAY Cass holds the DOOR OPEN button till Joe enters the elevator, then the doors close with a soft expensive little kllooosh and Cass turns with the smile of a very tiny girl... CASS Hi. ... her lips closing on Joe's as the poodle yaps shrilly at their feet. Superimposed, almost subliminally, a golden dollar sign appears, halating like a star, and the bell of a pinball machine rings O.S. INT. CASS'S APARTMENT - DAY A princess telephone is ringing on a gold and white desk. Cass runs to grab it... CASS Hello? ... as Joe steps from the elevator, which opens directly onto Cass's penthouse. Cass beckons him toward her, hooks a finger into his neckerchief and pulls his mouth toward hers while she talks on the phone. CASS (CONT'D) Morey? Hi-ee, honey... Cass gurgles happily as her free hand unbuckles Joe's garrison belt. CASS (CONT'D) I'm just out of breath, honey, running to catch the phone. As her fingers reach for Joe's zipper, cut to... ... Joe's hand unzipping her dress. CASS (CONT'D) I was walking Baby. Him got to do him goody-goods, right? The poodle tugs at Joe's slacks until they fall. Cass steers her ear to Joe's mouth, shuddering deliciously. CASS (CONT'D) Oh God, oh stop. I can't stand that. I just die... (quickly into phone) It's Baby, Morey. Him trying to say hello. Say hello to Morey, Baby. Cass holds the phone toward the yapping poodle, twisting herself against Joe as she wriggles out of her dress, passing the phone from one hand to the other. CASS (CONT'D) Okay, old goosie? Now lookie, when do you want me to meet you? Whatever you say. I'll take a nap, watch TV, you know, kill time. Okay, but just one, a big wet one. Cass hangs up. The poodle yaps hysterically, disentangling himself from her tumbling dress -- hops onto the couch glances off and flees again as an overturned lamp crashes O.S. INT. CASS'S BEDROOM - DAY The poodle bounces onto the bed -- remaining long enough to establish a TV REMOTE CONTROL TUNER lying on the satin coverlet -- then leaps down in panic as he hears Joe and Cass explode into the bedroom, laughing lustily... ... the remote control tuner buried suddenly under the full flesh of Cass's hip, activating... ... a twenty-five-inch television screen, blasting at full volume... ... Cass's eyes widening, profoundly impressed... CASS Ye gods... ... the images and sound of the television set flicking joyfully from channel to channel... ... Joe laughing, engulfed by Cass's abundance... ... Cass wild-eyed, overflowing the frame... ... a gleaming slot machine -- three Sahara cowgirls clicking into line for jackpot -- silver dollars overflowing the frame... EXT. MANHATTAN SKYLINE - DAY ... the Mutual of New York tower flashes MONY! JOE'S VOICE Holy shee-it, this is a goddam penthouse you got here, Cass, a real goddam penthouse. INT. CASS'S BEDROOM - DAY Joe turns away from a small terrace, buckling his belt, glancing off toward the sound of Cass in the shower. He flicks the TV remote control, enjoying his power, ignoring the silent images on the screen -- battle casualties, a pretty girl recommending aspirin, a man's stomach flashing animated pain, starving war refugees, a dog eating pzazz -- flicking it off to concentrate on the costume jewelry and perfume bottles on Cass's dressing table. CASS'S VOICE Don't look, baby... Joe turns to look as Cass comes from the bathroom, holding a towel around her as she runs behind the closet door. JOE Say, Cass, I, uh, sure have enjoyed being here. Believe it's as fine a time as I've had in my life! CASS'S VOICE Me, too, lover. JOE That's good, it is, cause, well I guess I didn't tell you why I came to New York, did I? A tower of black bugle beads emerges from the closet door. CASS Zip this thing, will you, Tex? Joe zips her dress, follows her to the dressing table, where she sprays her hair with lacquer. JOB Truth is, Cass, I'm, well, I'm in business. CASS Oh, poor you. Morey's got terrible ulcers. Cass stretches her upper lip across her teeth and she smears it with, orange lipstick. JOE Don't know what line Morey's in, but myself now, fact is -- I'm a hustler. CASS (lips stretched) Hers'n zodda meg a livig. JOE Beg pardon, ma'am? CASS Said, a person's gotta make a living. JOE You sure you heard what I said? CASS Scuse me, hon, fraid I'm only half here. Maybe you oughta run on along. But why don't you take this phone number? Joe grins, relieved as she takes out a gold lame purse and opens it. He frowns as she folds; it upside down, empty. CASS (CONT'D) Darn! I didn't get to the bank -- Tex -- could you let me have a little coin for the taxi-waxi? Joe stands mute as she cups his chin in her hand, seductively. CASS (CONT'D) You're such a doll. I hate money, don't you? God, it's been fun. JOE Funny thing, you mentioning money. I was just about to ask your for some... Joe tries to laugh but it sticks in his throat as Cass speaks -- an impassioned whisper -- still holding Joe's chin. CASS You bastard! You son of a bitch! You think you're dealing with some old slut? Look at me! You think just cause you're a longhorn bull you can get away with this crap? Well, you're out of your mind. I am a gorgeous chick, thirty-one, that's right, you said it! Sobbing suddenly, she throws herself on the bed. Joe stands bewildered by the vastness of her grief. JOE Hey. Hey, Cass. Did you think I meant that? Christ, would I be asking you for money with a wad like that riding on my hip? Joe waves his wallet at her, but she only cries louder. He hands her a kleenex. She clutches it to her face, wailing. Joe leans over the bed, whispering in her ear: JOE (CONT'D) Hey. You are a gorgeous-looking piece, Cass. Guy gets horny, just looking at you. It's a fact. How much you need for that taxi? Ten? Twenty? There you go. Joe tucks a twenty-dollar bill into her bosom, tilts his Stetson and starts out. Cass blows her nose, looking after him. O.S. chorus sings, "From this valley they say you are going -- we will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile..." EXT. LEXINGTON AVENUE - DAY From a high angle, Joe walks away from the apartment house, chorus continuing O.S. "... they say you are taking the sunshine that brightened our pathway a while." INT. EVERETT'S BAR - DAY Joe sits at the bar, staring morosely at his image in the mirror, already quite drunk, oblivious to the assorted types hiding from daylight in the barn-like saloon, waiting for night to fall. RATSO'S VOICE Excuse me, I'm just admiring that colossal shirt... RATSO studies Joe across the corner of the bar -- a sickly, child-size old man of twenty-one -- hopefully nursing an empty beer glass, contemplating the money on the bar in front of Joe. RATSO That is one hell of a shirt. I bet you paid a pretty price for it, am I right? JOE Oh, it ain't cheap. I mean, yeah, I'd say this was an all right shirt. Don't like to, uh, you know, have a lot of cheap stuff on my back. Ratso spits as JACKIE leans on the bar next to Joe -- a feminine young person, heavily made-up, hair teased, wearing earrings and a lace-trimmed blouse over shocking pink levis. JACKIE Got a cigarette, cowboy? RATSO (a stage whisper) More goddam faggots in this town. Reaching for a cigarette, Joe glances at Jackie, startled as Jackie twitches his pink levis angrily and turns away. JOE Shee-it... (shakes his head) Kee-rist, you really know the ropes. Wish to hell I bumped into you before. I'm Joe Buck from Texas and I'm gonna buy you a drink, what do you say to that? RATSO Enrico Rizzo from the Bronx. Don't mind if I do. JOE (slaps bar) Same all around! For my friend, too! The TV screen over the bar features a mating game program as Jackie cruises down to join a tall farm boy with plucked eyebrows. The TV HOST points to three young men, visible only from the shoulders up, from whom a pretty DATE GIRL in blindfold must choose an escort. TV HOST ... and for the losers, who don't get the girl, we'll give as consolation prices -- a six month supply of underarm deodorant... In a booth now -- the TV screen in the background, continuing the game -- Joe is refilling Ratso's beer glass as he speaks, loud over the laughter of the TV audience. JOE ... you see what I'm getting at here? She got a penthouse up there with color TV and more goddam diamonds than an archbishop and she busts out bawling when I ask for money! RATSO For what? JOE For money. RATSO For money for what? JOE I'm a hustler, hell, didn't you know that? RATSO How would I know? You gotta tell a person these things (shakes his head) A hustler? Picking up trade on the street like that -- baby, believe me -- you need management. JOE I think you just put your finger on it, I do. RATSO My friend O'Daniel. That's who you need. Operates the biggest stable in town. In the whole goddam metropolitan area. A stud like you - paying! -- not that I blame you -- a dame starts crying, I cut my heart for her... JACKIE'S VOICE I'd call that a very minor operation... Ratso grabs the neck of a bottle, sliding back in the booth. Joe scowls as Jackie appears with the tall farm boy. JACKIE ... in fact, you just sit comfy and I'll cut it out with my fingernail file. You won't even need Blue Cross, Ratso. RATSO The name is Rizzo. JACKIE That's what I said, Ratso. JOE (suddenly) Hey now, you heard him. On the TV screen -- the Date Girl announces: TV DATE GIRL I pick Number Two! He's cool! RATSO That's okay, Joe. I'm used to these types that like to pick on cripples. Sewers're full of 'em. JACKIE May I ask one thing, cowboy? If you sit there and he sits way over there, how's he gonna get his hand into your pocket? But I'm sure he has that all figured out... (to Ratso) Good night, sweets. TV HOST May present your chosen mate! The TV host pulls aside the screen which has concealed the lower half of the three young men. Number Two, her chosen mate, is a dwarf sitting on a high stool. The girl's spontaneous dismay starts everyone laughing hysterically, including the dwarf. EXT. SIXTH AVENUE - DAY Joe has difficulty keening up with Ratso, who swings himself along with surprising agility, his half skipping little gate favoring one game leg. RATSO Look, with these chicks that want to buy it, most of 'em are older, dignified, right? Social register types. They can't be trotting down to Times Square to pick out the merchandise. They need a middleman, right? That's O'Daniel. Joe hesitates as Ratso darts into traffic against a red light, yelling unheard obscenities at a cab driver who blasts his horn. Joe runs recklessly forward as Ratso slams the taxi fender with his fist, pretending to be hit, falling into Joe's arms. The taxi stops, halting traffic. Ratso, recovers, strolls casually in front of the cab, biting his thumb at the driver. RATSO (CONT'D) It is a crime, a stud like you passing out double sawbucks to a chick like that. With proper management you should be taking home fifty, a hundred bucks a day. More if you wanta moonlight... EXT. SIDEWALK CAFE - COCKTAIL HOUR At,the corner of Central Park South, Ratso points toward a young man with diamond cuff-links, sitting with a blue-haired matron who puffs on a small cigar. Ratso waves jauntily at the young man, raising his thumb and forefinger in a circle, leaving the young man baffled as Ratso hurries Joe on. RATSO Him I placed with O'Daniel just two weeks ago. And look. Not much of a stud either, what I hear... EXT. CENTRAL PARK SOUTH - COCKTAIL HOUR Ratso automatically checks the coin return boxes of the phone booths they pass. Walking the park side of the street, looking across at the limousines and taxis waiting outside luxury hotels and apartment buildings. JOE Hey, listen, how about you take me to mee this Mister O'Diddle bird right now? RATSO Well, Joe, you're a nice guy, and I'd be doing you both a favor, but why? What'm I dragging my bum leg all over town for? It's no picnic and what for, for me myself, what? Ratso stops opposite the Plaza hotel, pointing across at an aristocratic blonde stepping out of a Rolls Royce. RATSO (CONT'D) Tomorrow when some piece like that's scratching your back in a Fifth Avenue townhouse, where'll your pal Rizzo be? Nedicks. JOE Hold it, just hold it. You think I'm that kinda sombitch? Just name your cut, whatever you want, you got it right now. Five? Ten, how's that? Joe peels a ten from his wallet and offers it to Ratso. RATSO Joe, please. You know what I'd ask anyone else? Oh hell, tell you what I'll do, I'll take the ten... (he does) ... but when I hand you over to Mr. O'Daniel, I'll have to have another ten, Joe; just to like cover expenses... INT. PUBLIC PHONE BOOTH - DUSK Ratso is on the phone. Joe holds the door open, listening. RATSO This boy is just your meat, Mr. O'Daniel, believe it, I'm telling you -- what? -- Enrico Rizzo from the Bronx. The point is he needs you. Right now. Tonight... (aside to Joe) I got his tongue hanging out... EXT. WEST SIDE HOTEL - DUSK Camera moves slowly up the anonymous wall of a drab hotel, following the line of dim red lights marking the fire exits. RATSO'S VOICE Name's Joe Buck. Cowboy. Just in from Texas, don't know the ropes, new to the city, but very promising material, sir, and ready, if you get what I mean. Fabulous. Right away. What's that room number there again? INT. WEST SIDE HOTEL ELEVATOR - DUSK As ancient open cage lift rises at the same pace as camera in preceding shot. Joe grins excitedly at Ratso, who nods but glances significantly at the elevator operator. Ratso follows Joe to door as the operator grinds to a stop. INT. WEST SIDE HOTEL CORRIDOR - DUSK Ratso steps out with Joe, gesturing to the corridor... RATSO Hold it a second... ... but the operator slams the door and starts on up. Ratso leans heavily on the down button, glancing at Joe. RATSO (CONT'D) Nine-oh-one, got it? Ratso glances up the elevator shaft nervously, rings again and turns back to Joe. RATSO (CONT'D) Let's see how you look. Fine. You look fine. Now I'm gonna have to have that other ten... JOE (digs in wallet) Ten, ten -- I got a twenty -- take that... RATSO Oh hell, forget it. JOE Now take it. Go on. (gives it to him) Listen, where can I reach you? Cause I'm gonna make this right with you soon's I get me set up... RATSO Forget it. JOE I mean, dammit, where you live? Ratso leans on the DOWN as the cage grinds slowly down into view and stops. RATSO Sherry-Netherlands Hotel. Now get your ass in there. He's waiting! Ratso steps into the elevator as the door opens then closes, leaving Joe alone, repeating "Cherry Neverlin" as he starts along the corridor looking for 901. EXT. WEST SIDE HOTEL - DUSK Ratso bursts from the hotel, almost running as he disappears. INT. WEST SIDE HOTEL CORRIDOR - DUSK Joe finds 901 at a dark end of the corridor, knocks confidently, hearing a few bars of his love theme as he stuffs a fresh stick of gum in his mouth. Then the door is thrown open by O'DANIEL -- for an instant appearing to wear a diamond-studded skull-cap, the naked overhead light bulb bright after the dark corridor, halating in Joe's eyes like the earlier dollar sign. O'DANIEL You must be Joe Buck. Come in. O'Daniel, fat in a worn-out bathrobe, examines Joe like a prodigal son as he leads him into the room -- as anonymous as Joe's own room. O'DANIEL (CONT'D) Am I tickled to find you, boy! Come on in and let's get a look at you. Turn around. Good strong back. You'll need it. So you want help -- take a seat, relax, tell me about yourself. Cowboy, huh? JOE No sir, I'm no cowboy really, but I'm a first class stud. O'DANIEL Take it,easy, boy... (laughs) Seems to me you're different than a lotta boys that come to me. Most of 'em seem troubled, confused, but I'd say you knew exactly what you want. JOE You bet I do, sir. O'DANIEL But I'll bet you got one thing in common with them other boys. I'll bet you're lonesome. JOE Well, not too, I mean, a little. O'Daniel rises suddenly in a fury of self-righteousness, pacing, his voice simpering, whining sarcastically. O'DANIEL I'm lonesome. I'm lonesome so I'm a drunk. I'm lonesome so I'm a dope fiend. I'm lonesome so I'm a thief, a fornicator, a whore-monger. Poop, I say, poop! I've heard it all and I'm sick of it, sick to death. JOE Yessir, I can see that. O'DANIEL Lonesomeness is something you take. You bear? Dammit, you take it and go about your business, that's all. JOE Well, uh, I'm raring to go. O'DANIEL Yes, I believe you are. Cowboy, huh? JOE Uh, yessir. O'DANIEL Ready for hard work, son? JOE Ready for anything. O'DANIEL I got a hunch, Joe Buck, it's gonna be easier for you than most. JOE Gonna be like money from home. O'DANIEL Money from home, see, there's your strength, you put things in earthy terms any man can understand, son. I warn you I'm gonna use you, I'm gonna run you ragged! Joe laughs, driving an obscene uppercut into the air. O'Daniel laughs with him. O'DANIEL (CONT'D) You're a wonderful boy. You'n me gonna have fun, dammit, it don't have to be joyless. Say, why don't we get right down on our knees now? JOE Get down -- where? O'DANIEL Right here, why not? I prayed in saloons, I prayed in the street, I prayed an the toilet. He don't care where, what He wants is that prayer. O'Daniel drops on all fours, crawling to find the plug of an electric cord. He shoves it into a wall socket, switches off the overhead light and suddenly a hollow, tinted plastic Jesus glows on the dresser. O.S. a revivalist congregation sings. And now we notice, with Joe, placards and flags, horns and tracts, all the paraphernalia of a street corner evangelist. JOB Shee-it... O'DANIEL That's the ticket, just open your heart and let it flow. It ain't the words, it's the love beyond 'em! EXT. REMEMBERED BAPTISM - ANOTHER TIME Sally Buck sings with the congregation while a rawboned preacher stands in the river, preparing to immerse little Joe. O'DANIEL'S VOICE Don't fight it, boy! INT. WEST SIDE HOTEL ROOM - DUSK O'Daniel tries to pull Joe down beside him. O'DANIEL Pray and you shall be heard! EXT. REMEMBERED BAPTISM - ANOTHER TIME Camera becomes little Joe, glimpsing the fevered faces of Sally Buck and the congregation singing on the riverbank, just before being plunged under the river. O'Daniel's voice reechoes, filtered through water. O'DANIEL Don't be frightened, son! EXT. TIMES SQUARE - NIGHT Joe runs in aimless panic, pushing through the crowd, pursued by O'Daniel's voice and the singing congregation. O'DANIEL Don't run from Jesus! Joe stops short as he sees the front page of a tabloid on a newsstand. There is a picture of Joe being led away by two deputies, under a headline ALABAMA MURDERER SHOTGUNS ELEVEN. EXT. FORTY-SECOND STREET - NIGHT Joe searches the faces of the crowd, running forward suddenly as he sees Jackie and the farmboy picked up by two men in a large convertible. Joe chases the car to Eighth Avenue but stops, frightened as he sees himself in multiple image on the front of every newspaper displayed on a newsstand. INT. EVERETT'S BAR - NIGHT The saloon is almost empty during the after dinner lull. The BARTENDER doesn't look up from his newspaper as Joe approaches. JOE Say, you know that runty little bastard I was with? BARTENDER I don't know nothing. Joe tenses as he sees the . tabloid picture of himself on the back of the bartender's paper. Joe's hand closes around an empty beer bottle, a terrible violence surging very near the surface. O.S. women scream. INT. REMEMBERED BEAUTY SALON - ANOTHER TIME Reflected in the mirror, we see little Joe wildly smashing bottles and glass display cabinets -- the voices of women screaming O.S. -- little Joe hurling a perfume bottle which shatters the mirror and his own image. INT. EVERETT'S BAR - NIGHT The empty beer bottle stands where it was. Joe has disappeared. On the TV screen over the bar, sound drowned out by the jukebox, we see a blowup of the tabloid photograph, revealing a young man very similar to, but clearly not Joe. EXT. TIMES SQUARE - NIGHT Colorful lights still flash seductive promise. The vertical, lights on the MONY tower reach bottom and freeze momentarily. STILL PHOTOGRAPH Joe at his hotel window staring out blankly. Gun fire O.S.... INT. SHOOTING GALLERY - DAY The radio at Joe's ear is drowned out by a kid in cowboy hat, shooting alone in the gallery. Two policemen idly slap their thighs with night sticks. Joe moves on, unconsciously checking the coin return box of a pay phone. STILL PHOTOGRAPH Joe curled up on his bed like a baby, fully dressed, his radio on the night stand. O.S. his love theme, remote, hollow... EXT. FORTY-SECOND STREET - NIGHT Joe's radio is at his ear "... never too late to look great, Ben's Bargain Basement's open 'till five a.m., miles and miles of Western styles, worth more at any store, money talks and nobody walks." For the first time, Joe is aware of the other midnight cowboys lurking in doorways, the cruising queens, the middle-age men in sport shirts. Joe moves on self consciously as he sees a scar-faced policeman, unconsciously massaging his night stick. Camera holds on a window display of gag buttons, featuring NEW YORK WILL BREAK YOUR HEART, BABY. STILL PHOTOGRAPH Joe soaking in the tub, eyes closed. EXT. TIMES SQUARE DANCE HALL - DAY Joe's radio promises job opportunities for young men eighteen to twenty-five in the U.S. Air Force. He stands with a crowd staring up at a girl go-go dancing in the window of SERGEANT PEPPER'S LONELY HEART CLUB. STILL PHOTOGRAPH Joe staring in the mirror. O.S. static over his love theme. EXT. SIXTH AVENUE - NIGHT By work-light, the tarrier in metal helmet leans on a jack hammer, beyond the sign DIG WE MUST, drowning out Joe's radio. STILL PHOTOGRAPH Joe flexing his muscles in his jockey shorts while -- LIVE ON TV SCREEN -- a physical culture personality finishes push-ups and starts pitching his own extra protein bread. EXT. TIMES SQUARE PANCAKE HOUSE - DAY Joe's radio continues the super-break commercial while a fry cook flips flapjacks in the window. But Joe's eyes are on a sign DISHWASHER WANTED. Joe looks up and his eyes meet those of the young man scraping garbage behind the counter. It's Joe. JOE Shee-it. STILL PHOTOGRAPH Joe sits in the hotel lobby, staring out at the street, unable to concentrate on his comic book. On two-way radio, a woman's voice giggles as she speaks, "When I can't sleep, well, I just dial the time and listen to those old seconds clicking by like, you know, counting sheep?" EXT. SIDEWALK CAFE - COCKTAIL HOUR Joe watches a young man hold a taxi door for an older lady, at the same corner where Ratso waved to another young man. The woman's predatory eyes linger momentarily on Joe before she leads the young man into the Cafe. The two-way radio continues over, "... that's what I do about insomnia." JOE Well, now, ma'am, next time you got that feeling coming on, you dial Joe Buck. I'll show you what to do... STILL PHOTOGRAPH Joe straddles a chair, staring at a blank TV screen. SINGING COMMERCIAL Need a little easy money? It's E-Z. Want a little easy cash? It's E-Z. E-Z LOAN COMMERCIAL As the jingle continues, we follow Joe and his radio into the loan office, the depressing reality photographed and edited in the style of a TV commercial: JINGLE Easy locations to get to Easy ladies to greet you Easy chairs to seat you Easy payments to meet Let E-Z set you On Easy Street Joe arrives confident Harassed E-Z receptionist Lines of uneasy customers Desperate, angry faces Reams of E-Z forms to fill Clerk's sneer, says Joe has to be kidding INT. TIMES SQUARE PALACE LOBBY - NIGHT Joe's image frozen -- as if another still photograph - standing at the desk, waiting for his key. JOE'S VOICE Key to 1014... Action continues as the DESK CLERK hands Joe a folded paper instead of a key. Joe opens it, deeply perplexed. DESK CLERK Looks like you been locked out of your room, buddy. Till you pick up your tab. JOE Uh, what about my things'n all? DESK CLERK We keep them nice and safe till you get this straightened out. INTERCUT Room 1014 warm and inviting, Joe's suitcase on the bed. JOE Listen, tell you what, you can keep all the rest of the goddam junk if you let me have just the suitcase. That suitcase means a lot to me. INTERCUT The postcard photograph marked X -- THIS IS ME. DESK CLERK We keep everything. House rules. EXT. TIMES SQUARE - NIGHT Joe stands outside the hotel, stunned, seeing the bright colored lights turn suddenly grey. The film continues in black and white as Joe walks into the crowd. EXT. SALLY BUCK'S BEAUTY SALON - DAY The FOR RENT sign flapping in the wind. INT. BAR - DAY Joe nurses a short beer, like the regulars. He looks up as a crippled panhandler approaches, vaguely reminiscent of Ratso. JOE Screw off. INT. ROOM 1014 - NIGHT The bed turned back, clean sheets, a soft night light. INT. BUS DEPOT - NIGHT Joe is stretched on a bench, his Stetson over his eyes. A loud speaker announces a bus "departing for Texas" but Joe does not move. A policeman taps Joe's boots with his night stick. Joe rises and starts away with mixed anger and apprehension. INT. PUBLIC MEN'S ROOM - DAY Two matching Ivy Leaguers exchange a glance as they see Joe washing his feet in the basin. Joe stares back with a belligerent grin. JOE Any objection, gentlemen? INT. ALL NIGHT CAFETERIA - NIGHT Joe balances a cup of coffee, walking past the other solitary night people, avoiding each other's eyes. Joe spots what he's looking for and seats himself next to a gaunt woman and her ten year old son, both freaked out, erratically touching things, themselves, each other in a futile effort to make contact with reality. But Joe is only concerned with the plastic-wrapped crackers left by their empty soup bowls. JOB Y'ain't gonna eat them? The woman stares at Joe blankly. The boy runs a toy mouse across the table, up his mother's arm and around her face. With a polite nod, Joe opens the crackers and squirts one with ketchup. Joe upsets his chair as a great gob of ketchup spills onto his pants... JOE Shee-it. ... glancing around with an embarrassed laugh, but the only one looking is a cop, scratching his calf with a night stick. Joe keeps his back to the customers as he moves to the water dispenser, wets a paper napkin and tries to wipe away the stain. But the water has only spread the stain across his pants and down his leg. He blushes as a blonde young streetwalker giggles. SALLY BUCK'S VOICE Wet your britches, lover boy? INT. SUBWAY ARCADE - NIGHT Joe tries to hide the stain with his jacket as he checks the coin boxes of vending machines, wary as he passes a burly policeman, abstractedly snapping his handcuffs in front of a bakery window display of bride-and-groom wedding cakes. Joe barely glances at a confused MIDDLE-AGE LADY. MIDDLE-AGE LADY How do I get to Grand Central? JOE Shuttle. Follow the green light. Automatically,checking the trough of a gum vending machine, Joe unexpectedly faces himself in the mirror, the eyes staring at him tired and hopeless. His hand reaches unconsciously for a cigarette, The package is empty. He crumples it in his fist but holds it. JOE (CONT'D) Alright, cowboy. Enough of this shee-it. You know what you got to do? (nods) Then go do it. EXT. FORTY-SECOND STREET - NIGHT Joe hurls the crumpled package into a DON'T BE A LITTERBUG basket as he emerges from the subway, his radio at his ear. The torchy voice belts his love song, merging with street noises crying danger -- an ambulance, a burglar alarm, a policeman's whistle -- the lights flashing lurid color for the first time since Joe was locked out, no longer promising but threatening, clashing, warning as... ... from a high angle, across the street, Joe joins the other midnight cowboys, offering himself to all comers. His figure is momentarily obliterated by traffic then... ... zooming in, we see Joe self-consciously trying to hide the stain on his pants, embarrassed as a large sedan slows then moves on to stop in front of a motorcycle freak. Joe is briefly obliterated again by a passing police car... ... the receding flash of its turret light revealing Joe in close conversation with a frightened young FAT BOY, whose eyes plead for reassurance as Joe scowls. INT. ROOM 1014 - DAY Joe's black and white suitcase gleams on the bed. JOE'S VOICE Twenty-three bucks, I got to have twenty-three bucks... INT. ALL NIGHT MOVIE - NIGHT From an apparently empty balcony -- an old science fiction film grinds endlessly through the night -- a lost spaceman trying to make contact with a tantalizing Martian maiden across an invisible time barrier, theremin voices calling, "Earthling, where are you?" FAT BOY'S VOICE Okay. Sure. I got twenty-five... At the top of the balcony, Joe leans back, turning his face away as the Fat Boy embraces him, kissing Joe's cheek and neck, his head moving down out of frame to show -- on the screen -- the spaceman and Martian maiden meeting, arms outstretched. But the Martian maiden moves right on through the spaceman, crying, "Earthling come back, however many centuries it is, I'll wait!" Joe closes his eyes, forcing his memory back... INT. REMEMBERED MOVIE HOUSE - ANOTHER TIME ... repeating the remembered image of Anastasia and a younger Joe, behind the movie screen... ANASTASIA You're the only one, Joe, the only, only one ever! ... the remembered passion continuing, mounting -- intercut with flash impressions, like flipping pages of a nudie magazine -- naked, half-draped blondes gazing into camera with sultry eyes, including one comic strip sexpot and the calendar girl in Joe's Texas hotel room... ANASTASIA'S VOICE You're the best, the very best, yes, yes, kiss me, oh God please kiss me, Joe, now, now, now! ... Joe's face in extreme close-up, sounds of both movie houses merging, confused, dominated by the voices of adolescent boys... BOYS' VOICES Hey, Joe, give someone else a chance! What's he doing for chrisake? He kissing Anastasia? You better swallow a whole goddam drugstore, man! ... an adolescent ratpack waiting in line behind the screen, laughing in coarse whispers, watching Joe and Anastasia. O.S. theremin voices call "Earthling, where are you?" INT. ALL NIGHT MOVIE - NIGHT On screen, the Martian maiden moves through the spaceman, crying, "Earthling, come back, however many centuries it is, I'll wait!" INT. ALL NIGHT MOVIE RESTROOM - NIGHT Joe watches the Fat Boy doubled over, retching. JOE I'm awful damn sorry you're sick, kid, but you gonna have to gimme that money like you said. FAT BOY I was lying. I don't have it. What're you going to do to me? JOE (controls fury) What you got in your pockets? Eagerly, the boy produces a family photograph, a subway token, a dirty handkerchief. Joe grabs his wrist, revealing a watch. JOE (CONT'D) How much's that worth? FAT BOY I can't go home without my watch! My mother'd die! She'd die! Take my books! Not my watch! She'd die! But Joe has already kicked open the door. Theremin voices drown out the Fat Boy, calling "Earthling, where are you?" INT. ALL NIGHT MOVIE - NIGHT Joe sprawls, trying to sleep, his feet on the balcony rail, the radio at his ear. On screen, once again, the Martian maiden moves through the spaceman, crying, but we hear the voice of a desperate woman on two-way radio. As she speaks, a policeman moves along the aisle, slapping his palm with his night stick. DESPERATE VOICE Bill, can I call you Bill, Mister Bonner? I feel like I know you from listening. What I called about, Bill, I'm gonna kill myself... EXT. SIXTH AVENUE - DAY From a high angle, only Joe's Stetson and radio can be seen above a passing bus, its side panel advertising BILL BONNER'S STRAIGHT LINE, A STRAIGHT TALK SHOW. BONNER'S VOICE Why call me, baby? If you want to do it; just do it, don't talk about it. Are we drunky? Feeling a little sorry for ourselves maybe? Joe appears in full figure as the bus passes. He stands looking at the suitcases in a luggage shop window. DESPERATE VOICE Well, Bill, what I got thinking, I didn't want the neighbors to have to find me, this young couple with the boy I want to have my cat, see, Bill? INT. RADIO STATION - DAY BONNER, tough in a grey crew-cut, talks on the phone. BONNER Okay, baby, now listen, just hold on while I leave the line for a minute. And think about all the kids that are dying overseas for you, okay, baby? Got that? I'll be back in exactly sixty seconds. After this message from... A taxi born blasts, interrupting the sponsor's message. EXT. SIXTH AVENUE - DAY Joe's fist slams a fender violently, using Ratso's fake injury trick to stop traffic, running across the street toward... EXT. NEDICK'S - DAY ... Ratso staring out at Joe, paralyzed in the act of lighting a cigarette -- intercut in flashing close-ups -- Joe outside the window, Ratso inside -- reflecting their conflicting emotions -- Joe's murderous rage -- Ratso's panic -- one almost subliminal flash of each revealing something like pleasure at finding a long-lost friend... INT. NEDICK'S - DAY ... Ratso staring up into camera, holding his breath. RATSO Don't hit me, I'm a cripple. Joe's hand falls on Ratso's shoulder. JOE Oh, I ain't gonna hit you, I'm gonna strangle you to death... The cigarette in Ratso's mouth burns into his lip. He jerks spasmodically, choking on smoke as he rips skin away with the butt and drops it in his coffee cup. JOE (CONT'D) ... only first I'm gonna turn you upside down and shake you out right here and now. Coughing, eyes tearing, Ratso empties his pockets on the counter, finally producing: sixty-four cents, a few sticks of gum, an almost empty cigarette package, a book of matches and two pawn tickets. He raises his eyes, somehow ashamed. Joe kicks the toe of Ratso's loafer. JOE What's in your socks? RATSO Not a cent, I swear to God, I swear on my mother's eyes. Ratso removes his loafers and shakes them, glancing at the counter man. His socks don't even conceal his toes. Disgusted, Joe shoves Ratso's small pile back at him. RATSO (CONT'D) You keep the sixty-four cents. I want you to have it. JOE It's sticky. What you do, slobber on 'em? I wouldn't touch 'em. Joe should leave -- Ratso obviously has nothing tangible to offer -- but Joe hesitates, lighting a cigarette as Ratso pulls on his loafers. RATSO How do you like that O'Daniel, flipping out like that? I wanted to get in touch with you when I heard, but I been laid up with this cold... Ratso touches his chest, forcing a cough which continues itself beyond his intention. JOE You want some free medical advice, shut your goddam mouth about that night. RATSO Okay, right, right, okay. Another subject. Where you living? Still at the hotel? INT. ROOM 1014 - DAY The black and white suitcase lies open on the bed. INT. NEDICK'S - DAY Joe turns abruptly and walks away. JOE Shee-it. I got better things to do than talk to you. EXT. SIXTH AVENUE - DAY Joe strides north, pretending he doesn't hear... RATSO'S VOICE Hey, wait up, for crissake! ... Ratso hop-skipping to overtake Joe at the traffic light. JOE Listen, keep away from me, hear? You come near me again, I snatch you bald-headed! RATSO I'm inviting you. I mean if you're not located, I got a place. I'm inviting you, goddamit. JOE You inviting shee-it. EXT. TENEMENT STREET - DAY A contractor's sign announces LUXURY APARTMENTS AVAILABLE in high-rise co-op, under construction beyond a raw of tenements with X's taped on the windows. Ratso's voice continues over the click-clack-click of Joe's boots and the flip-flap-squeak of Ratso's loafers as camera moves toward a condemned building. RATSO'S VOICE The X on the window means the landlord can't collect rent -- which is a convenience, hey? -- on account of it's condemned. INT. TENEMENT STAIRS - DAY Footsteps climb past rubbish piled outside empty flats. RATSO'S VOICE The electric's off. Another convenience. I don't mess with Con Edison, hey? What the hell, I got candles, right? INT. X FLAT - DAY Light from the X window shines on a Florida tourist poster as Ratso leads Joe into an abandoned tub-in-kitchen flat, barely furnished with a table and chair, a rumple of blankets on a burnt-out mattress. RATSO I got no heat, but by that time, you know, cold weather, hey, I'll be in Florida. Stretch out. Make yourself comfortable. You hungry? I'll put up some water for coffee. Ratso fills a saucepan from the tub-sink, sets it on a Sterno stove. Joe sits himself on the mattress-bed, pretending to test it, weeks of exhaustion and tension overwhelming him suddenly, his only immediate problem being the effort to restrain a large, comfortable yawn. JOE Comfortable, kee-rist, I slept on subways softer than this. Joe stretches himself, yawning, his eyelids drooping heavily. The sounds of the city recede. Joe's love theme plays softly on a distant radio. Joe's eyes close momentarily in spite of him elf. INT. REMEMBERED CAR - ANOTHER TIME A vintage dashboard, radio dial glowing, Anastasia's face. ANASTASIA Love me, Joe? EXT. DEMOLITION SITE - DAY A huge metal ball arcs on chain, demolishing a brick facade. INT. X FLAT - DAY Ratso's face seems to radiate evil as he lights a Sterno can. Joe forces his eyes half-open. JOE Smart thing for me to do is haul ass outta here. RATSO Whatsa matter now? Joe shivers, pulls a blanket around him, resisting sleep, but the noises of demolition fade, the love theme lures Joe back. JOE You don't seem like no fag... RATSO What's that supposed to mean? Joe's eyes close, his voice continuing out of half-sleep. JOE Want me to stay here, y'after something. What y'after? INT. REMEMBERED CAR - NIGHT Joe's thumbnail flares a match, exposing Anastasia on the car seat with Joe, both nearly naked. Anastasia butterfly-kisses Joe's chest as he lights a cigarette. ANASTASIA Say you love me. Just say it. JOE Okay. I love you. Anastasia purrs as her lips find Joe's breast, trying to nurse. A flashlight flares suddenly through the car window. NIGHTMARE - MULTIPLE SPLIT SCREEN Low angle Ratso bending over Joe, into camera... ... Sally Buck shocked, hand still on switch... ... Joe blinded by halation... ... Anastasia's mouth screaming soundlessly... ... flashlights multiplying on car window... Full frame -- Anastasia catatonic in hospital gown -- a woman's voice "What'd he do to you, Annie?"... ... gang-bang ratpack surrounding car with flashlights... ... Jackie shrieking "He loves her he loves her"... ... hands closing on Joe's buttocks... ... hand closing on Joe's naked left foot... ... hand on naked right foot... ... dentist leaning over Joe's mouth... ... hands pulling Joe's legs apart... Zoom close-up -- Anastasia screaming soundlessly... ... thermometer under Little Joe's tongue... ... Sally Buck shoves chocolate in her mouth... ... bewigged poodle licks her fingers... ... Sally Buck hangs enema can on bedpost... ... Ratso leads ratpack chasing naked Anastasia... ... corona of flashlights... Anastasia screaming soundlessly -- flashlight shoved into her mouth -- electronic rock blasting... ... blank-eyed go-go girl in dance hall window... ... Joe held naked by ratpack... ... Ratso breaking beer bottle on Everett's bar... ... dwarf laughing on television... ... Ratso aims broken bottle at Joe's crotch... ... shooting gallery cowboys riddle Joe's pelvis... Anastasia catatonic in courtroom -- between gaunt parents - whining singsong "Raped her raped her Joe Buck raped her"... ... Fat Boy's mouth finds Joe's breast, tries to nurse... ... Sally Buck kisses him open-mouthed... ... slug crawls up Joe's stomach, trailing mucus... ... Cass's poodle laps at his toes... ... butterflies settle on his eyes... Anastasia catatonic in courtroom between parents -- who are now O'Daniel and Sally Buck... ... drawling voice "evidence of repeated violations"... ... Bill Bonner in flag-cloth judge's robe... ... police advancing, swinging night sticks... ... Joe running into Times Square, suddenly naked... ... Anastasia sitting in all-night cafeteria... ... freaky child running toy mouse over her naked body... Siren screaming -- Anastasia staring catatonic from rear window of ambulance... ... ambulance racing away... ... Joe chasing naked after ambulance... ... running into the arms of the police... ... Ratso laughing as police beat Joe... INT. X FLAT - NIGHT Joe awakens in a cold sweat, fighting the blankets, wild-eyed as he sees Ratso at the table, examining Joe's radio by candle-light. Joe lunges across the room to snatch the radio from Ratso's hands. RATSO For crissake! Still wild-eyed, Joe suddenly points at his stocking feet. JOE Where's my boots -- ? EXT. TIMES SQUARE - DAY Joe facing the crowd, naked except for his boots. INT. X FLAT - NIGHT Ratso points to the boots on the floor by the mattress. JOB How'd they get off me? RATSO I took 'em off. JOE What for? RATSO So you could sleep! I mean Christ! Joe inspects the boots, seats himself on a battered Army cot - which has been added while he slept -- swinging a boot by its strap, considering whether to stay or go. RATSO (CONT'D) I drug in a cot, if you want to stay. JOE Well now, Ratso, I'm gonna tell you something for your own good, only first gimme a cigarette. Ratso offers a cigarette from his crushed package, Joe strikes a match on his thumbnail and lights up, staring at Ratso. JOE (CONT'D) You want me to stay here tonight, is that the idea? RATSO I ain't forcing you, like, I mean, who's forcing you? JOE Oh. Guess I got the wrong impression. Joe makes a slow move to pull on one boot. RATSO I want you to stay, okay? I goddam invited you, didn't I? JOE Well, I hope you know what you're in for. I'm a very dangerous person. Someone does me bad like you. If I caught up with you that night, there'd be one dead Ratso long about now. Hear? RATSO I'm impressed. You're a killer. JOE So if you want me to hang around for a few days, I thought you should know. Joe yawns, picks up a few blankets and spreads them on the cot. He puzzles out the faded printing on one blanket. JOE (CONT'D) Property of the YMCA. You make me wanna puke sometimes, Ratso. Ratso blows out the candle and wraps himself in blankets. RATSO Joe -- do me one favor -- this is my place, am I wrong? You know, in my own place my name ain't Ratso. I mean it so happens my name is Enrico Salvatore Rizzo. JOE Shee-it, man, I can't say all that. RATSO Rico then, at least call me Rico in my own goddam place. JOE Rico! Rico! Rico! Is that enough? (then) And keep your meat hooks off my radio. EXT. VEGETABLE MARKET - DAY Ratso wears a threadbare raincoat of faded black, several sizes too large, as he shops with housewives at a sidewalk vegetable stand -- elbowing his way through the ladies, testing fruit, picking up vegetables and putting them back -- till the GREENGROCER spots him. GREENGROCER You! Out! Out! I told you, I calla cops! The other shoppers deliberately turn their backs, avoiding involvement. As the Greengrocer grabs Ratso, Joe ambles into the scene, wearing his dangerous little smile. JOE Hey, looka here, that ain't nice, picking on a cripple... Joe intervenes just long enough for Ratso to escape, then ambles on, leaving the Greengrocer in frustrated fury. Camera holds on a tray of coconuts. INT. X FLAT - DAY Joe lies on his cot, watching Ratso struggle to penetrate the fibrous husk of a coconut, experimenting with a variety of rusty tools in an old cigar box. RATSO The two basic items necessary to sustain life are sunshine and coconut milk. That's a known fact. If I can find the goddam hole the milk squirts out. JOE This is an okay setup you got here, but I'd say you ain't just exactly, uh, flush, is that right or not? RATSO I been sick. Hold this, will ya? Joe takes his time rising to hold the coconut while Ratso tries to poke a hole with a bent ice-pick. RATSO (CONT'D) In Florida, they come smooth, ready to eat. Down there, your only problem is, diet-wise, you gotta lift an arm to wipe warm milk off your chin. Tough, hey? JOE I think finding you's the smartest thing I ever did, for both of us. You just the crooked kinda sneaky little sidewinder I need to get me hustling in this town. Hey! Joe jerks his hand away just in time to avoid the ice-pick. The coconut bounces on the floor. Ratso picks it up, holds it, while Joe tries to crack it, swinging his boot like a hammer. RATSO Miami Beach is the only place for a real hustler. Florida has more rich chicks per square yard than any resort spot in the world. They lie out in their pagodas and pergolas waiting to grab the first jockstrap that passes. JOE What's all this sweet talk about Florida? Your friend O'Daniel got a stable down there now? Joe swings violently. Ratso yelps, hopping on his one good leg, sucking his thumb. RATSO Cowboy killers! Break my finger, Christ! I got news for you, baby, no chick with any class buys that big dumb cowboy crap... Ratso holds his thumb under the tub-sink faucet. RATSO (CONT'D) ... the cowboy bit's out, except among fags of a certain type, which take a certain, type hustler to exploit. Like I could handle it -- being a stealing operation basically -- but take your average fag, very few of them want a cripple. Joe holds the coconut like Yorick's skull, thinking hard.* JOE Well, I am dumb, that's for sure. I don't talk right. I can't think too good. Just only one thing I ever been good for's loving. Women go crazy for me. Fact. Crazy Annie. Had to send her away. So I don't cash in on that, what am I? I'm shee-it. May's well flush me down that hole with the dishwater. Joe sets the coconut on the floor, holding it with both hands while he tries to smash it with the heel of his boot. JOE (CONT'D) That's why you gonna stop crapping about Florida and get your skinny butt moving to earn twenty bucks worth of management you owe me... INT. ROOM 1014 - DAY The suitcase lies open, displaying Joe's wardrobe. JOE'S VOICE Make that twenty-three bucks. INT. X FLAT - DAY Joe slams his heel down. The coconut shoots out from under him and he lands on his ass. RATSO Look at yourself, Joe, no offense, but frankly, you're beginning to smell. For a stud in this town that's a handicap. JOE You talk like a man with a tin twat. Ratso sets the coconut on the window sill, balancing it as he raises the X window. RATSO You ain't got a chance in hell. You need threads and glitter, baby. A front, hey? JOE Well, uh, my manager's gonna manage all that crap, or else he gonna get a coconut up his flue. Joe slams, the window down. The coconut flies down to crash O.S. on the sidewalk below. EXT. SIDEWALK - DAY An alley cat laps up the milk of the broken coconut. EXT. TIMES SQUARE - FANTASY Joe stands naked in the middle of traffic. A siren shrills. Anastasia, catatonic in a hospital smock, moves toward Joe like a sleepwalker, passing through him. INT. LAUNDROMAT - DAY Wearing only his boots, Joe sits like an Indian chief, wrapped in a blanket -- angle widening to show Ratso, spotting Joe's jacket, slacks and shirt with cleaning fluid -- his eyes on a very pregnant Italian lady. As she starts to load a coin cleaning machine, Ratso intervenes solicitously, speaking in Italian... RATSO A woman in your condition shouldn't do that. Let me help... ... adroitly slipping Joe's cleaning in with her load as she turns to seat herself beside Joe. JOE'S VOICE It ain't right, stealing from a pregnant lady. INT. HAT CLEANERS - DAY Joe and Ratso stand waiting at the counter. RATSO What did it cost her? The laundromat syndicate lost a couple coins. I'm crying. The owner brings Joe's clean and blocked Stetson from the rear of the shop. Joe sets it on his head and examines himself in a mirror as the owner hands Ratso, the bill. RATSO (CONT'D) Where's mine? The black homburg? I brought it in the same time. The owner glances at the slip, puzzled, returns to the rear of the shop to search for the nonexistent homburg. Ratso quickly drags Joe away from the mirror and out of the shop. INT. SUBWAY ARCADE - NIGHT The rhythmic duet of boots and loafers follows Joe and Ratso - checking coin boxes and telephone booths -- till they reach a shoeshine stand, locked for the night. They loiter till a young couple has disappeared, then Joe kicks loose 'the padlock on the equipment drawer, mounts one of the chairs and Ratso goes to work on his boots with furious expertise, flourishing double brushes, snapping the rag like a jazz drummer. JOE Hey, you're good! I bet you could pick up a living at this if you tried. RATSO And end up a hunchback like my old man? You think I'm crippled? You shoulda caught him the end of a day. Ratso demonstrates a chimpanzee walk. Joe laughs. Ratso turns back in panic as another man takes a chair next to Joe. Ratso is about to retuse when a cop takes the third chair, swinging his handcuffs around to the front, tapping his shoe with his night stick. Ratso quickly drops a rag over the broken padlock, cursing under his breath as he starts working on all three customers at the same time. RATSO'S VOICE You think it's funny? INT. X FLAT - DAY Joe is seated in a straight-back chair near the X window, a towel tucked around his neck as Ratso trims his hair, almost as expert a barber as shoeshine boy. RATSO Stupid bastard coughed his lungs out breathing that resin all day. They buried him with gloves on. Even the fag undertaker couldn't get his nails clean. As if by conditioned reflex, Ratso chokes on the cigarette in his mouth, coughing painfully. He crushes it out, opens the window to spit, shivering, then slam it and turns back to remove the towel from Joe's neck. JOE Kee-rist, you pretty damn clever for a skimpy little gimp. RATSO You like it? Take a look. JOE Don't rush me. How I do it, see, I get myself primed, like I was turning on the charm for some pretty little blonde lady, then kinda mosey away slow and easy and - swing around! -- and there you are, you handsome devil. Joe performs his ritual as he speaks, but more relaxed, faintly laughing at himself with Ratso. The wall mirror has been added since we last saw the flat, along with a legless overstuffed chair with burnt-out cushions, a tasselled table cover, pinups, calendar girls and several new Florida tourist posters, Ratso moves to Joe's side, arranging the neckerchief, nodding. RATSO Not bad -- for a cowboy -- you're okay, you're okay. JOE What I'm gonna do, I'm gonna make a cowboy outta you, kid. How about that? Build you up a little, teach you couple little tricks'n turn y'out to stud, Rat-stuff. Joe slaps his hat on Ratso's head, tilts it, hooks Ratso's thumbs in his jeans and shoves a cigarette into the corner of Ratso's mouth. Ratso laughs till he chokes -- for one instant, self-consciously, mimicking Joe -- then removes the hat and reaches for his threadbare black raincoat. JOE (CONT'D) Okay, you got yourself one handsome, sweet-smelling cowboy, strut your stuff... EXT. CONVERTED TOWN HOUSE - DAY Joe and Ratso peer down through a basement bay window, into the office of THE PERFECT GENTLEMAN ESCORT SERVICE -- endorsed by leading travel agencies and credit clubs offering discreet companionship and personal guided tours in any language. A large-busted matron, on a French phone, fills out a memo and hands it to an immaculate young ESCORT, who slips the memo into his topcoat pocket as he comes from the office and hails a cab. Ratso darts forward, limping exaggeratedly, holding the door, lifting the memo as he brushes off the Escort's topcoat. The young man waves him away with out a tip. Ratso slams the door and bites his thumb after the cab, unfolding the memo as he joins Joe on the sidewalk. RATSO How do you like that? Cheap bastard... (reads, then) I think we struck gold. This is one high-class chick. The Barbizon for Women! EXT. MANHATTAN SKYLINE - DUSK The Mutual of New York tower flashes MONY. INT. CORNER PHONE BOOTH - DUSK Ratso consults the memo as he speaks into the phone. RATSO Mr. McNeill, I'm calling for Miss Beecham at the Barbizon Hotel for Women. She won't need you tonight... EXT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT A doorman helps a young lady into a limousine. RATSO'S VOICE Would you believe a whole goddam hotel with nothing but lonely chicks? Joe and Ratso watch from across the street. RATSO Score once in that setup, the way chicks talk, Christ... Joe cracks his gum, tilts his hat, starts across the street. RATSO (CONT'D) Get the money! Remember Cass Trehune? Cash! These rich bitches write a check at night, call the bank and stop payment in the morning. Get the cash! In Ratso's eyes -- as Joe enters the hotel -- its facade suddenly wipes away to reveal rich ladies in negligee waiting in every room. INT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT Joe starts up the stairs, two at a time. A BELLHOP grabs him. BELLHOP Hey! No men upstairs! EXT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT Ratso warms his hands at a chestnut vendor's cart, seeing... ... zoom close-up, a lady in a window grabbing Joe. INT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT Joe picks up a house phone, watched by the Bellhop. EXT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT Ratso sees Joe zip from room to room in wild animation. INT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT The lobby watches Joe blow a gum bubble at the elevator. EXT. EXCLUSIVE DRESS SHOP - NIGHT Staring at a window display of Florida sportswear, Ratso's imagination soars, seeing... EXT. FLORIDA BEACH FRONT - FANTASY ... Ratso, like a model in a travel poster, in gaudy sport shirt, talking on the phone against a background of hotels... ... Ratso like James Bond, surrounded by bikinis, dictating while girls serve coconut milk and massage his game leg... ... Ratso like George Raft, in evening clothes, running a posh casino, flicking a coin... ... Ratso simply himself, dressed as he is, sitting on the beach, at peace in the sun... ... the same identical picture with Joe sitting beside Ratso. INT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT Joe faces MISS BEECHAM, a reserved and rather plain young lady in evening dress, She tries to speak softly. MISS BEECHAM I'm afraid there's been a terrible mistake... EXT. EXCLUSIVE DRESS SHOP - NIGHT Ratso leans against the window, flipping a coin. EXT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT Miss Beecham is flushed with humiliation, the entire lobby watching Joe in the hands of two bellboys. JOE I want my money, goddamit, you owe me my money whether you get laid or not, lady, shee-it! EXT. EXCLUSIVE DRESS SHOP - NIGHT The lights in the window suddenly switch off, blacking out Florida. Ratso glances toward the growl of a siren O.S. EXT. BARBIZON FOR WOMEN - NIGHT A police prowl car slows in front of the hotel. Ratso swings across the street with incredible speed to meet Joe as he's tossed onto the sidewalk. Ratso picks up the Stetson and brushes it off, then helps Joe to his feet. EXT. SIXTH AVENUE - NIGHT From a high angle -- the two figures move slowly along the deserted avenue, their rhythmic musical duet growing more and more faint in the distance, a broken grasshopper and a six foot tarnished cowboy -- passing a tuxedo rental store, next to a lighted sign -- TEMPERATURE IN MIAMI BEACH, FLORIDA 89 DEGREES -- their pace slowing to a dead stop... INT. X FLAT - NIGHT ... Joe and Ratso frozen -- rain on the X windowpane freezing into sheet ice. O.S. a radio commercial plays warm, sentimental music while a cozy voice explains how easy it is to heat with Humble oil. EXT. CONDEMNED TENEMENTS - DAY Joe and Ratso frozen in a narrow shaft of sunlight, watching the huge metal ball demolish the building next door. O.S. a radio announcer sells FROZEN SUNSHINE ORANGE JUICE. INT. X FLAT - NIGHT Joe and Ratso frozen, staring significantly at Joe's radio. O.S. a singing commercial, "Don't wheeze and sneeze the winter away! Drink Frozen sunshine every day!" EXT. PAWN SHOP - DAY Through the window -- Joe and Ratso watch the pawnbroker examine Joe's radio, "Be healthier, wealthier, life can be fine, when you drink Frozen" -- Sunshine is clicked off by the pawnbroker. INT. X FLAT - NIGHT Joe and Ratso frozen, wrapped in blankets as... ... the canned heat dies with a faint puff... ... water dripping in the tub-sink freezes into an icicle... ... the candle burns down and out, leaving the screen dark. EXT. CONDEMNED TENEMENTS - DAY Joe and Ratso warm themselves on the smoke and steam rising from a subway grating -- watching two officials in fur collared coats inspect the front of their X flat building. Reading their doom, Joe and Ratso, continue on, disappearing into the subway. EXT. FORTY-SECOND STREET - NIGHT Joe stands alone, watching the midnight cowboys ply their trade. Camera pulls back as Joe turns away and enters a store front blood bank, offering ten dollars to blood donors. INSERT A huge hypodermic fills the frame, sucking Joe's blood. O.S. Ratso coughs uncontrollably. INT. X FLAT - NIGHT Ratso leans over the tub-sink, dry-heaving while he coughs, wearing a sheepskin coat much too large for him. He controls the cough with effort -- hearing the door open and close O.S. -- wipes his mouth and turns to grin at... ... Joe, trying to light the empty Sterno can, deliberately ignoring Ratso. Ratso shrugs, washes his mouth at the faucet, finds a cigarette butt and lights it, careful to avoid inhaling the first puff. JOE Shee-it. Cough yourself inside out, then light a fag, a goddam fag. You make me puke. Where'd you steal it? In the movies? RATSO The coat? A guy I did a favor once gave it to me. Christ. JOE Who'd you ever do a favor for? You just let some poor bastard freeze to death, wouldn't you? Joe slams ten dollars on the table. Ratso glances at Joe with curious concern. RATSO Where'd that come from? JOE Forty-second Street. Where'n hell you think it come from? RATSO You wanna know the truth? You dumb bastard, I got it for you. Look at it. Goddam thing's ten sizes too big for me. Ratso pulls off the coat and throws it at Joe. JOE Wear it yourself. I wouldn't put it on my back. Joe throws it back at Ratso. RATSO Goddamned if I'll wear it! Ratso hurls it in a corner. Joe shoves the ten at Ratso. JOE Go get your medicine. Before you die on my goddam, hands... EXT. EAST RIVER BRIDGE - DAY High angle -- Joe and Ratso cross an foot, chilled by wind, neither wearing the sheepskin coat. The Queens riverfront and factories appear cold and bleak, deserted on Sunday. EXT. LONG ISLAND CEMETERIES - DAY Camera moves into acres of tombstones, piled like low-rent housing projects for the dead, the various faiths segregated by crumbling boundaries. JOE'S VOICE Shee-it. I hate boneyards. RATSO'S VOICE So split. He ain't your goddam, father. EXT. PROTESTANT CEMETERY - DAY Ratso leads Joe past a Negro family at a grave -- glances around -- snatches an elaborate floral piece from a headstone and hides it under his black raincoat as he darts toward a low dividing wail and swings himself over into... EXT. CATHOLIC CEMETERY - DAY ... an endless section of plain stone markers. Joe touches his hat to two nuns, guiltily hurrying to overtake Ratso at ibis father's grave, indistinguishable from the other graves except for the name on the headstone. Ratso places the floral piece on the grave with almost absurd solemnity. Joe laughs. JOE Kee-rist, you sure are one twisty little bastard, Ratso. RATSO The name's Rico, at my own father's grave, a man deserves some respect. JOE Respect shee-it! You even steal flowers for his grave. RATSO Can he smell the difference, eh? Joe reads from the ribbon on the floral display. JOE Well, uh, he dam well know he ain't 'be-loved Aunt Winifred'. RATSO He can't read. Even dumber than you. Couldn't write his own name. X -- that's what it ought to say there on that goddam headstone. One big lousy X like our flat. Condemned. By order of City Hall. Joe is frowning, standing at the,headstone, momentarily depressed with an undefined sorrow. JOE My Grammaw Sally Buck, she died without letting me know. EXT. SALLY BUCK'S BEAUTY SALON - DAY Through the window, past the FOR RENT sign, the tarnishing driers are lined up like tombstones. EXT. JEWISH CEMETERY - DAY Joe frowns, puzzled, as Ratso pulls out a black skullcap, leading Joe toward a group of professional mourners, whispering: RATSO Just keep your hat on and cry a little. They tip you when it's over. Joe and Ratso join the mourners as the funeral moves to the grave, Ratso mouthing an authentic double-talk... ... Joe standing self-consciously, aware of the covert glances of the other mourners, automatically reaching up to remove his hat, remembering when Ratso elbows him in the ribs... ... Joe scowling, tight-lipped, embarrassed by the tip that is thrust in his hand. INT. LUNCH COUNTER - EVENING A weary Santa Claus, in a rented beard and over-large costume, warms his hands over the steam of his coffee cup. Joe and Ratso are arguing farther down the counter. JOE Just ain't right, cheating someone dead and can't cheat back. In the background, as Ratso speaks, HANSEL and GRETEL MACALBERTSON enter the lunch counter, inspecting the customers one by one. Both wear black turtlenecks and jeans, dressed as twins, both blond and pretty. RATSO You and my old man. Same kinda mind. Putting me down till the day he died... (mimics) ... why can't you be like your brothers? Sons a father could be proud of. Yeah, sure. My brothers. Too goddam busy making something of themselves to show up when the old man's dying! Conditioned reflex, Ratso starts to cough. Joe sees the MacAlbertsons in the mirror, standing behind him, studying him. Gretel nods, Hansel hands Joe a large black card, smiling vaguely, then moves on. RATSO (CONT'D) What was that all about? Joe studies the black card, frowning at first, suddenly smiling, turning as if to call after the MacAlbertsons, but they are disappearing around the corner. Joe hands the card to Ratso. JOE You wanna read something, read this. I been invited somewhere. Shocking pink letters on the black card read YOU ARE INVITED TO HELP US BURY LOVE -- TONIGHT AT BROADWAY AND HARMONY LANE - HANSEL AND GRETEL MACALBERTSON. JOE (CONT'D) They picked me. The only one in the whole goddam place. You see how they looked me over, up and down before they give me that? RATSO So? Joe sees a young man washing cups behind the counter. Joe shakes his head, wonderingly, turning to study himself in the mirror. JOE Well, this thought just struck me. It wasn't too long ago I was washing dishes way the hell somewhere in Texas. RATSO Yeah, well, so? JOE Now I'm here. I'm in New York City. Getting picked for things. Don't you see what I'm driving at? RATSO What you're driving at, you want me to get lost so you can go to your fancy-ass party. JOE Did I say that? Did I? (studies card) It don't say nothing about you... RATSO Don't say nothing about you either. JOE But they picked me, right? So what I'll do, I'll just say, now look, you want me? Well, I don't go nowhere without my buddy here. RATSO (shrugs) Well, what the hell, I got nothing better to do. EXT. LOFT BUILDING - NIGHT Snow swirls in the aureole of a street light as Joe and Ratso run, heads lowered, turning into... INT. LOFT BUILDING - NIGHT ... a drab entrance hall, dimly lit -- signs identifying various commercial tenants -- a pink-on-black placard reading MACALBERTSON, TWO FLIGHTS UP. Joe has started up before he notices Ratso, leaning on the bannister at the foot of the stairs, struggling to catch his breath. His face and hair are wet with perspiration, his lips lavender-blue. In swift flashes -- intercut -- Joe reads the panic in Ratso's eyes, so intense that Joe shares it, unable to speak or offer reassurance. JOE Better dry your hair some. You sweating all over the goddam place. Joe pulls out his shirttail, grabs Ratso by the neck and rubs his head dry. JOE (CONT'D) You got a comb? RATSO Don't need a comb. JOE Few dozen cooties won't kill me, don't guess. Joe hands Ratso his own comb. Ratso swipes at his tangled hair angrily until two teeth break in the comb. He hands the comb back, tugs at his hair with his fingers, pats it in place, then looks back into Joe's eyes. RATSO Okay? I look okay? In a moment of silence, distant sounds can be heard -- a siren, the grinding teeth of a garbage truck, the twang of an electric guitar upstairs at the party -- then Ratso makes a quick gesture of impatience and starts up the stairs, pulling himself on the bannister. INT. MACALBERTSONS' LOFT - NIGHT A bank of lights blinds Joe and Ratso as they enter -- electronic rock blasts their ears -- a bearded cameraman on a step-ladder photographs them as they stand confused -- facing a monstrous collage of tabloid photos blown up, showing the murder of a hippie known as Groovy -- in-huge black letters, LOVE WAS GROOVY -- GROOVY IS DEAD. Joe shouts over the amplified music. JOE Better get a hold of someone and tell them I'm here. Ratso points to his ear -- he can't hear -- following Joe across the room. The huge loft is crowded with a random selection, gathered to serve as dress extras in an underground film. The party is the scene. The MacAlbertsons merely supply the ingredients and allow it to happen, with cameras strategically placed to record the happening... ... Hansel with tape recorder, Gretel with hand-held camera drifting through the crowd -- catching words and images in a detached, whimsical fashion. Gretel turns her camera on Joe and Ratso as they approach. JOE (CONT'D) Well, I made it. This here is Ratso Rizzo and I... RATSO Rico. Rico Rizzo. Gretel smiles without recognition. Hansel gestures vaguely. HANSEL Do you need anything? I mean there's beer and so forth. Whatever your thing is... The twins move away together, pausing to confer with the operator of a tripod camera -- focused on an emaciated flower girl with long hair and dirty feet, stretched in a sarcophagus, clutching a dead daffodil, her eyes glazed. Scrawled in huge letters on the wall over her head -- LOVE! RATSO If you want the word on that brother and sister act, I'll give you the word. That Hansel's a fag and Gretel's got the hots for herself. So who cares, right? Load up on the salami... Ratso heads for the refreshment table. Joe starts after him but pauses, intrigued by an alcove under the balcony where a light show is in progress -- surreal images of naked bodies projected against abstract currents of color and strobe light... ... a bored fat lady in a muu-muu, squatted like a Buddha at a low table, rolling joints for the guests. She lights a joint and offers it to Joe as he wanders in to watch the show. Joe laughs delightedly when he realizes what it is... JOE Shee-it, this is one helluva party! ... glancing around at the others, imitating their techniques -- the quick inhaler, who follows with sharp gulps of air - the deep inhalers who draw air as they inhale -- the stylist who lets the smoke drift out and inhales through the nostrils -- Joe puffing himself slightly dizzy, starting to laugh at the silent flick effect of the strobe light -- the action around him slowing almost imperceptibly, overcranked -- a veil of smoke hanging over the fat woman's face, transforming her into a laughing witch -- a similar veil around Joe's head, relaxing the self-conscious tension of his face, spontaneously curious about the play of light on his hand, grinning at... ... a serious young technician handling the light show, scattering psychedelic stars across a sky of magenta flesh... ... Joe reaching for the stars as he rises and wanders back to the crowded loft, fascinated to see... ... a crew with cameras and lights, on the balcony at one end of the loft, photographing the scene below... ... a dark-haired lady by the name of SHIRLEY -- chic in the style of a gangster's moll -- drinking beer from the bottle, predatory eyes searching the crowd... ... Ratso surreptitiously stuffing his pockets from the buffet table, glancing nervously over his shoulder, unaware of Gretel and her hand-held camera, photographing Ratso as he steals, turning away casually, disinterested... ... Joe laughing as he dances for a moment with a tall black girl -- the lights swinging around them -- faces swimming... ... Shirley in fleeting close-up, gone in an instant, reappearing... INT. MACALBERTSON BATHROOM - NIGHT ... her face in the mirror smiling in a dark, provocative way -- Joe standing at the bathroom door, forgetting to be embarrassed as Shirley turns away from the mirror, unhurriedly, running her fingers through her hair, boldly meeting Joe's eyes. SHIRLEY I can tell, can't you? JOE Yeah, oh yeah. SHIRLEY What'll we do? Leave now or what? Your place or mine? Oh God, the second I looked at you I knew. Did you? Joe grins, watching Shirley's lips move, unable to keep her in sync, startled to hear Ratso's voice. RATSO'S VOICE She's hooked... INT. MACALBERTSONS' LOFT - NIGHT Joe realizes he is back at the party, Ratso whispering hoarsely. RATSO ... I'd say she was good for ten bucks, but I'll ask for twenty... But Joe is watching with terrible fascination as Hansel and Gretel lift the flower girl from her sarcophagus. SHIRLEY'S VOICE Did you know? We were going to make it? Joe glances down to see himself flanked by Ratso and Shirley. RATSO You really want to do business? SHIRLEY Who's he? Oh God! Don't tell me you two are a couple -- ? The flower girl, hypnotically dazed, accepts a broom dipped in black paint and smears a huge X across LOVE. Joe laughs. HANSEL'S VOICE Why are you laughing, Joe? Hansel holds a microphone toward Joe, who shrugs, grinning at Ratso and Shirley. Gretel's camera moves down Joe's body. HANSEL Are you for real, Joe? JOE Well, I ain't a f'real cowboy, but I'm one hell of a stud! Shirley glances at Ratso, who nods, whispering in her ear. RATSO A very expensive stud. And I happen to be his manager. The scene -- from Joe's viewpoint -- becomes increasingly confusing and fragmented, dialogue and image moving in and out of focus, cameras and lights surrounding him, keeping the center of attention in his own blown mind... ... Shirley's eyes unnaturally bright, inspecting his body, lingering on his thighs, moistening her lips... SHIRLEY It's too much -- to come face to face with a walking talking sex fantasy -- to buy a man's -- God! ... the tall black girl dancing in stroble light, starting to remove her clothes -- Gretel following her with a camera... SHIRLEY'S VOICE I can't wait to tell my man Monday. I should be taking notes. Look at my arm! ... Shirley's talon-like fingernails caressing the gooseflesh on her tanned arm... RATSO'S VOICE I gotta sit down. I feel crummy. Ratso stretched out on a Victorian love seat -- the flower girl walking unsteadily, passing out dead daffodils, placing one in Ratso's hand Gretel photographing his reaction... SHIRLEY'S VOICE Eat it -- a man in your line of work has to keep his strength up... ... Shirley bringing Joe a massive sandwich on a paper plate, watching him bite into it... SHIRLEY It's fantastic, now I know, everything you do has sexual implications. If I you know, bought it -- could I take pictures of you naked? That's part of it, isn't it, kinky kinda things? ... the tall black girl and a few others are trying to promote an orgy. A scrofulous old wino dances spastically, working his toothless gums, preparing to expose himself to two girls dancing together... HANSEL'S VOICE We want you, Joe. You've been chosen. ... five youths stand beside the sarcophagus -- two sailors, two cycle freaks, a weight-lifter -- waiting to be pallbearers. Joe joins them. All lights and cameras are turned on the slow funeral procession, carrying the flower girl out of the loft to the tune of "Moonlight and Roses". Strobe light adds to the unreality of the scene... SHIRLEY'S VOICE I had a thing for him. Before I knew. Why should knowing make it more of a thing? ... Shirley talks to Gretel as she photographs the funeral. SHIRLEY Naturally I'll have to ask myself why a cowboy? And why a cowboy whore? But not tonight. INT. MACALBERTSON LANDING - NIGHT Shirley is pulling her coat out of the pile on the bannister. SHIRLEY Incidentally, how much is this going to cost me anyway? Joe turns to Ratso, whose attention is fixed on the coats. JOE Tell her, Ratso. RATSO Twenty bucks... SHIRLEY Sold. Let's go. RATSO ... and taxi fare for me. SHIRLEY Get lost. RATSO I agree. And for that service I charge one dollar taxi fare. She takes a dollar from her purse and hands it to Ratso, takes Joe's arm and starts down the stairs. Ratso lingers, starting quickly through the coats, frisking them for loose change. INT. LOFT BUILDING LOBBY - NIGHT At the foot of the stairs, Shirley kisses Joe violently. SHIRLEY Your name's Joe. Which is fabulous. Joe could be anyone. Kiss me, Joe, move over, Joe, go away, Joe. It's just perfect. They glance up as Ratso appears, swinging down too rapidly on the bannister. He misses a step and falls -- a clown's fall, unable to stop but apparently not hurting himself. Shirley and Joe are laughing when Ratso lands at the foot of the stairs. SHIRLEY (CONT'D) He fell. Hey, fella, you fell. Is he all right? RATSO (rises, mimics) Is he all right! JOE Well, if you're awright, why you hanging on the bannister. Can you walk or not? RATSO Walk? Naturally I can walk. SHIRLEY He's got taxi fare. JOE Sure you're all right? RATSO (shouts) I said yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah! INT. TAXICAB - NIGHT Joe and Shirley are kissing. Shirley rolls away, flushed, fanning herself. Joe rolls down the window. EXT. VILLAGE STREET - NIGHT Joe leans out 