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vw #A-33578 14
23 CONTINUED 23
BARTENDER
A buck eighty.
Stringfellow throws two bills on the table, which the Bar-
tender scoops up and returns to the bar. Stringfellow
uncorks the cottle, takes a long swill, grimaces.
STRINGFELLOW
This swill that passes for whiskey!
A dollar eighty to curdle your
insides.
ROLPHO
(eyes downcast;
mumbles)
Lot better'n what we sell.
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STRINGFELLOW
(trying to focus)
How was that?
ROLPHO
Nothin'.
STRINGFELLOW
(arches eyebrow)
Come now, Rolpho -- a judgment in
passing perhaps? Some critical
comment apropos of something or
other dredged up from that thin
ditch you call a brain?
ROLPHO
(softly, eyes
lowered)
You keep tellin' people how it cures
all them things. Them diseases and
sicknesses. Even that sick little
girl. But it's just a little cara-
mel color and wood alcohol and a
little burnt cork.
(look up)
It don't seem fair ---
Stringfellow rises and, in the process, knocks over the bottle
drunkenly, quickly righting it. Rolpho flinches and tries
to back away in the chair, as if anticipating Stringfellow's
anger. Stringfellow simply reaches out and dusts off the
giant's lapel, speaking in a very soft voice:
STRINGFELLOW
Rolpho -- you don't understand, do
you?
CONTINUED
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vw #A-33578 15
23 CONTINUED - 2 23
STRINGFELLOW (Cont'd)
(leans over table)
So it doesn't cure dyspepsia! So
it has no effect on a boil or
yellow fever or the dropsies. So
what? Do you know what's in Dr.
String's Rejuvenator? Dreams! It
should be on the label. One part
wishful thinking -- one part ig-
norance -- one part the sweat of
little men who want immortality
and are dumb enough to think it can
be bottled. I should charge a
hundred dollars a swallow for this
stuff! And I should get a medal
at the same time. Because I sell
hope to the hopeless -- dreams to
the dreamless -- and an illusion
of health to every doomed yokel
with a dollar in his jeans! I let
them look out over the top of their
pig sty and get a view of heaven!
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24 CLOSE SHOT - MAN 24
who has entered and stands just inside the door, his face
streaked with tears and sand. His eyes dart around until he
finds Stringfellow, then he moves, camera accompanying him,
directly to Stringfellow's table.
MAN
Doc...she's so weak. She can't
hardly say anything now. She just
lies there whimperin' with the pain.
And she ain't hardly breathin' ---
Snyder, having left the bar, teeters into shot.
SNYDER
Take some advice, friend. Keep
her covered and warm. Give her
enough whiskey to make her numb.
(beat; touches the
man's arm with in-
finite compassion)
And find a Reverend.
The man stares at Snyder, then whirls toward Stringfellow.
MAN
You said she'd be well again --- !
CONTINUED
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vw #A-33578 16
24 CONTINUED 24
SNYDER
Who the hell do you think he is --
St. Francis? This is Medicine Man,
Mister -- and he'll break your
heart for a fifty-cent piece.
The Man, wavering, looks from one to the other - his big,
narrow-boned hands out in front of him, fists clenching and
unclenching.
MAN
What about my kid? What'm I
gonna do?
(looks from one
to the other)
She's out there on that buckboard,
dyin' an inch at a time.
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(clutches Stringfellow's
lapels)
What am I gonna do???
Stringfellow looks down at the Man's hands, then up into his
face, speaking in a very even voice:
STRINGFELLOW
Rolpho -- bring me another bottle
of the Rejuvenator.
SNYDER
(disbelieving,
reverently)
My dear God -- haven't you ---
STRINGFELLOW
(overlapping)
Go ahead, Rolpho.
25 WIDER SHOT - FAVORING ROLPHO 25
With a vast indecision he rises, starts across the room
toward the door. Snyder turns as if to move to him.
STRINGFELLOW
(very loud)
Just keep your distance, Dr. Snyder.
(then, to the Man)
Dr. Snyder here is the protector
of the Common Good. A drunk and a
sot and an unhealed healer -- but
he claims to speak for the speech-
less. You know what I do, brother?
I sell faith. I'll pump enough
CONTINUED
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