Hey.
Hey, baby. What's going on here?
Oh, hi.
Miss Golightly.
Some day... Some day...
Miss Golightly.
What happened to you, anyway?
You take off for the powder room
and that's the last I see you.
-Now, really, Harry...
-Harry was the other guy.
I'm Sid. Sid Arbuck.
You like me, remember?
Miss Golightly, I protest!
Oh, darling, I am sorry,
but I lost my key.
But that was two weeks ago.
You cannot go on
and keep ringing my bell.
You disturb me!
You must have a key made!
But it won't do any good.
I just lose them all.
Come on, baby. You like me.
You know you do.
I worship you, Mr Arbuck,
-but good night, Mr Arbuck.
-Baby, wait a minute. What is this?
You like me. I'm a liked guy.
You like me, baby. You know you do.
Didn't I pick up the check
for five people?
Your friends.
I've never seen them before.
And when you asked for a little change
for the powder room,
what do I give you? A $50 bill.
Now doesn't that give me some rights?
In 30 seconds I going to call the police!
All the time disturbance! I get no sleep!
I got to get my rest! I'm an artist!
I am going to call the vice squad on you!
Don't be angry, you dear little man,
I won't do it again.
If you promise not to be angry,
I might let you take those pictures
we mentioned.
When?
Sometime.
Anytime.
Good night.
I'm sorry to bother you, but I couldn't get
the downstairs door open.
I guess they sent me the upstairs key.
I couldn't get the downstairs door open.
I said, I guess they sent me
the upstairs key.
I couldn't get the downstairs door open.
I'm sorry to wake you.
That's quite all right.
It could happen to anyone,
quite frequently does. Good night.
I hate to...
I hate to bother you,
but if I could ask one more favour
could I use the phone?
Sure.
Why not?
Thank you.
Well, this is
a nice little place you've got here.
-You just moved in, too, huh?
-No. I've been here about a year.
The phone's over there.
Well, it was.
Oh, I remember.
I stuck it in the suitcase.
Kind of muffles the sound.
I'm sorry.
-Is he all right?
-Sure.
Sure. He's okay, aren't you, cat?
Poor old cat.
Poor slob. Poor slob without a name.
The way I look at it,
I don't have the right to give him one.
We don't belong to each other.
We just took up by the river one day.
I don't even want to own anything
until I find a place where
me and things go together.
I'm not sure where that is,
but I know what it's like.
It's like Tiffany's.
Tiffany's?
You mean the jewellery store?
That's right.
I'm crazy about Tiffany's.
Listen.
You know those days when you
get the mean reds?
The mean reds?
You mean like the blues?
No.
The blues are because you're getting fat
or maybe it's been raining too long.
You're just sad, that's all.
The mean reds are horrible.
Suddenly you're afraid and you
don't know what you're afraid of.
-Do you ever get that feeling?
-Sure.
Well, when I get it,
the only thing that does any good
is to jump into a cab and go to Tiffany's.
Calms me down right away.
The quietness and the proud look of it.
Nothing very bad
could happen to you there.
If I could find a real-life place
that made me feel like Tiffany's, then...
Then I'd buy some furniture
and give the cat a name.
I'm sorry. You wanted something.
The telephone.
It's just that I was supposed
to meet somebody.
I mean, this is
10:00 Thursday morning, isn't it?
I just got off a plane from Rome
and I'm not too sure.
Thursday. Is this Thursday?
-I think so.
-Thursday! Oh, no, it can't be!
It's too gruesome.
Well, what's so gruesome
about Thursday?
Nothing, except I can never remember
when it's coming up.
Wednesdays,
I generally just don't go to bed at all
because I have to be up to catch
the 10:45.
And they're so particular
about visiting hours.
Would you be a darling
and look under the bed
and see if you can find
a pair of alligator shoes?
Sure.
I've got to do something
about the way I look.
I mean, a girl just can't go to Sing Sing
with a green face.
Sing Sing?
Yes, I always thought it was
a ridiculous name for a prison.
Sing Sing, I mean. It sounds more like it
should be an opera house or something.
Black alligator.
You know, all the visitors make an effort
to look their best. It's only fair.
Actually, it's very touching, all the
women wearing their prettiest things.
I just love them for it.
And I love the kids, too.
I mean the kids the wives bring.
It should be sad seeing kids there,
but it isn't.
They all have ribbons in their hair
and lots of shine on their shoes.
You'd think there was going to be
ice cream.
Now, as I understand it,
what we're doing is getting you ready
-to visit somebody at Sing Sing.
-That's right.
You can always tell what kind of person
a man really thinks you are
by the earrings he gives you.
I must say, the mind reels.
May I ask whom?
Whom what?
Oh, whom I go to visit, you mean?
I guess that's what I mean.
I don't know
that I should even discuss it.
Well, they never told me
not to tell anyone.
You must cross your heart
and kiss your elbow.
I'll try.
You probably read about him.
His name's Sally Tomato.
Sally Tomato?
Well, don't look so shocked.
They could never prove for a second
that he was even part of the Mafia,
much less head of it, my dear.
The only thing they did prove was
that he cheated his income tax a little.
Anyway, all I know
is that he's a darling old man.
Oh, he was never my lover
or anything like that.
In fact, I never knew him
until after he was in prison.
But I adore him now.
I mean, I've been going to see him
every Thursday for seven months.
Now I think I'd go
even if he didn't pay me.
-Shoes.
-I could only find one.
He pays you?
That's right. Or anyway his lawyer does.
If he is a lawyer, which I doubt, since
he doesn't seem to have an office,
only an answering service.
And he always wants to meet you
at Hamburger Heaven.
There you are, you sneak. Thank you.
You're welcome.
Dress. Dress.
Here we are. Bag and a hat, too.
There we are.
Anyway, about seven months ago, this
so-called lawyer, Mr O'Shaughnessy,
asked me how I'd like to cheer up
a lonely old man
and pick up $100 a week
at the same time.
I told him, "Look, darling,
you've got the wrong Holly Golightly."
A girl can do as well as that
on trips to the powder room.
I mean, any gentleman
with the slightest chic
will give a girl a $50 bill
for the powder room.
And I always ask for cab fare, too.
That's another $50.
But then he said his client was
Sally Tomato.
He said dear old Sally had seen me
at Elmo's or somewhere
and had admired me la distance.
So wouldn't it be a good deed
if I were to visit him once a week?
Well, how could I say no?
It was all so wildly romantic.
How do I look?
Very good. I must say I'm amazed.
You were a darling to help,
I could never have done it without you.
-Bag.
-Call me anytime.
I'm just upstairs, or I will be
as soon as I get moved in.
Bye, cat.
You mean he gives you $100
for an hour's conversation?
Well, Mr O'Shaughnessy does
as soon as I meet him
and give him the weather report.
Look, it's none of my business,
but it sounds to me
like you could get in a lot of trouble.
Hold this for me, will you?
And what do you mean,
"weather report"?
Oh, that's just a message I give
Mr O'Shaughnessy.
So he'll know I've really been up there.
Sally tells me things to say like
"There's a hurricane in Cuba"
and, "It's cloudy over Palermo."
Things like that.
You don't have to worry.
I've taken care of myself for a long time.
Taxi!
-I never could do that.
-It's easy.
Paul.
I'm late. I know it.
Don't tell me you were locked out?
Didn't you get the key?
Oh, darling. I'm so sorry.
No, I got the key, all right.
Miss Golightly, my neighbour,
was kind enough to let me in.
Miss Golightly's on her way
to Sing Sing.
-Oh?
-Just visiting, of course.
Miss Golightly,
Mrs Falenson, my decorator.
-How do you do?
-How do you do?
Darling. Let me look at you.
-Are you through?
-Was the flight absolutely ghastly?
I'm in a terrible rush.
Grand Central Station,
and step on it, darling.
Is it really only three weeks
since I left you in Rome?
Seems like years.
-You seen the apartment?
-Not yet.
I know it was wicked of me,
but I couldn't resist.
I went ahead and fixed it up without you.
I think it's darling of course
but if you absolutely hate it, we can rip
everything up and start from scratch.
Miss Golightly!
Hey, baby! Where you going?
Come on, baby. Open the door.
Be a pal.
You're breaking up a beautiful party.
Come on, baby. Open the door.
Hey, the band's swinging.
Come on, baby.
Miss Golightly.
Once again, I must protest!
If you don't stop that phonograph
right this minute,
I'm going to call the police department!
Yeah. That's more better.
What's the matter, baby?
Come on. You're a great kid.
Open the door.
Come on, baby. I'm waiting for you.
-It's all right. It's only me.
-Now, wait a minute. Miss...
Golightly. Holly Golightly.
I live downstairs.
We met this morning, remember?
Yeah.
It's all right. She's gone.
I must say,
she works late hours for a decorator.
The thing is, I have
the most terrifying man downstairs.
I mean,
he's sweet when he isn't drunk
but let him start lapping up the vino,
and oh, golly, quel beast.
It finally got so tiresome down there,
I just went out the window.
Look, you can throw me out
if you want to,
but you did look so cosy in here, and
your decorator friend had gone home
and it was beginning to get a bit cold
out there on the fire escape.
And I always heard
people in New York
never get to know their neighbours.
Well, how was Sing Sing?
Fine.
I made the train and everything.
And what's the weather report?
"Small-craft warnings
Block Island to Hatteras."
Whatever that means.
You know, you're sweet. You really are.
And you look
a little like my brother Fred.
Do you mind if I call you Fred?
Not at all.
$300, she's very generous.
Is it by the week, the hour or what?
Okay, the party's over. Out.
Oh, Fred. Darling Fred, I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.
Don't be angry.
I was just trying to let you know
I understand.
I understand completely.
It's okay, stick around.
Make yourself a drink.
Throw me my robe
and I'll make you one.
You stay right where you are.
You must be absolutely exhausted.
I mean, it is very late
and you were sound asleep
and everything.
I suppose you think I'm very brazen
or trs fou or something.
I don't think you're any fouer
than anybody else.
Yes, you do. Everybody does.
And I don't mind.
It's useful being top banana
in the shock department.
What do you do, anyway?
-I'm a writer, I guess.
-You guess? Don't you know?
Okay. Positive statement.
Ringing affirmative.
I'm a writer.
The only writer I've ever been out with
is Benny Shacklett.
He's written an awful lot
of television stuff, but quel rat.
Tell me, are you a real writer?
I mean, does anybody buy
what you write or publish it or anything?
They bought what's in that box.
Yours?
All these books?
Well, there's just the one book.
Twelve copies of it.
"Nine Lives by Paul Varjak."
They're stories.
Nine of them.
Tell me one.
They're not the kind of stories
you can really tell.
Too dirty?
Yeah, I suppose they're dirty, too,
but only incidentally.
Mainly they're angry, sensitive,
intensely felt
and that dirtiest of all dirty words,
promising.
Or so said The Times Book Review,
October 1st, 1956.
-1956?
-That's right.
I suppose this is kind of a ratty question,
but what have you written lately?
Lately I've been working on a novel.
-Lately, since 1956?
-Well, a novel takes a long time.
-I want to get it exactly right.
-So no more stories.
Well, the idea is
I'm supposed to not fritter
my talent away on little things.
I'm supposed to be saving it
for the big one.
Tell me, do you write every day?
Sure.
-Today?
-Sure.
-It's a beautiful typewriter.
-Of course.
It writes nothing but sensitive,
intensely felt, promising prose.
But there's no ribbon in it.
-There isn't?
-No.
Oh.
You know, something you said
this morning has been
bothering me all day.
What's that?
Do they really give you $50
whenever you go to the powder room?
Of course.
You must do very well.
I'm trying to save,
but I'm not very good at it.
You know,
you do look a lot like my brother Fred.
I haven't seen him, of course,
since I was 14. That's when I left home.
And he was already 6'2".
I guess it must have been
the peanut butter that did it.
Everybody thought he was dotty the way
he gorged himself on peanut butter.
But he wasn't dotty.
Just sweet and vague and terribly slow.
Poor Fred. He's in the army now.
It's really the best place for him
until I can get enough money saved.
-And then?
-And then Fred and I...
I went to Mexico once.
It's a wonderful place for raising horses.
I saw one place near the sea that...
Fred's very good with horses.
But even land in Mexico
costs something.
And no matter what I do,
there never seems to be more than
a couple of hundred dollars in the bank.
It can't be 4:30.
It just can't.
Do you mind if I just get in with you
for a minute?
It's all right. Really, it is.
We're friends, that's all.
We are friends, aren't we?
Sure.
Okay.
Let's don't say another word.
Let's just go to sleep.
Where are you, Fred?
Because it's cold.
There's snow and wind.
What is it? What's the matter?
Why are you crying?
If we're going to be friends, let's just
get one thing straight right now.
I hate snoops.
-Yeah.
-Lucille, darling? 2-E.
I've been trying desperately
to reach you.
Bill just got back.
A day early, the beast.
So I'm afraid I'll have to beg off.
You'll explain to the rest of the girls?
You're a darling.
Maybe we can have
a long lunch tomorrow.
I'll phone you in the morning.
Whatever you say.
And you will manage to survive
without me tonight?
Sure.
I might even take
a wild, boyish fling at writing.
-Good night.
-Good night.
You got yourself stuffed, huh,
Polly, baby?
Serves you right, big mouth.
-Buongiorno.
-Huh?
Aren't you drinking?
You got pockets there or something?
What do you go by?
What's your name? What's your name?
What do you call yourself?
-Irving.
-Perfect. Perfect.
That's wonderful, Irving.
I'll be right back, Irving, baby.
Yeah? Whoa! Kid's still in the shower.
You expected?
I was invited. That what you mean?
Now don't get yourself
all tense and sore, pal. Come on in.
It's a party. There's a lot of characters
come around here, they're not expected.
I'll buy you a drink. You drink?
-Yeah.
-Then I'll buy you a drink.
Okay.
Hey, honey, your skirt's split there.
-What do you drink, kid?
-Bourbon.
Bourbon?
-On the rocks?
-Yeah. No. With water.
All right, you want rocks first, though,
don't you?
-Yeah.
-Good, you got them.
-Not too much.
-All right. That'll set you free.
-You know the kid long?
-Not very. I live upstairs.
You're kidding.
Boy, look at this place, will you?
What a place. It's unbelievable.
What a dump.
What do you think?
-About what?
-Is she or isn't she?
Wait a minute. Hold it.
-Harriet.
-Hi, J.B.
"J.B."? O.J. What is that?
All right. Hello there.
-You know Gil.
-Yeah. How are you? Good to see you.
-How about a drink?
-Fine. In the kitchen.
-You'll find everything you need.
-Thanks.
So... Oh, honey, that is you, that is you.
Fred, darling,
I'm so glad you could come.
I brought you a house present,
something for the bookcase.
You're sweet.
Doesn't that look nice?
Give me a cigarette, O.J.
Sure, sure.
O.J.'s a great agent. He knows
a terrific lot of phone numbers.
What's Jerry Wald's
phone number, O.J.?
Oh, come on, lay off.
Darling, I want you to call him
and tell him what a genius Fred is.
Yeah, I got it.
Stop blushing, Fred.
You didn't say you were genius, I did.
So quit stalling, O.J.
Just tell me what you're going to do
to make Fred rich and famous.
Now why don't you let Fred baby
and me settle that matter, huh, puppy?
Okay. But just remember, I'm the agent.
He's already got a decorator,
I'm the agent.
Hold it. Hold it.
Hi, there, boys. Come on in, there.
Right in the kitchen,
you'll find everything you need.
So, listen, Fred baby.
-No, it's Paul baby.
-Oh, it is? I thought it was Fred baby.
-No.
-Well, answer the question, all right?
-Is she or isn't she?
-Is she or isn't she what?
A phoney.
I don't know. I don't think so.
You don't think so, huh?
Well, you're wrong, she is.
But on the other hand, you're right,
because she's a real phoney.
You know why? Because she
honestly believes all this phoney junk
that she believes in.
I mean it. Now look, I like the kid.
I mean, I sincerely like the kid. I do.
I mean, I'm sensitive, that's why.
I mean, you gotta be sensitive
to like the kid, you know what I mean?
It's what you call a touch,
a streak of the poet,
you know what I mean?
You known her long?
Are you kidding?
I'm the guy that discovered her.
I'm O.J. Berman.
A couple of years ago,
back on the coast there.
She was just a kid. Of course,
she had a lot of style. A lot of class.
-A lot of what?
-Class. I said she had lot of class.
But of course,
when she opened her mouth,
you didn't know what she was talking,
whether she was a hillbilly or an Okie.
You know how long it took me
to smooth out that accent?
-No.
-I'll tell you how long.
One year. You know how we did it?
We gave her French lessons. Yeah.
Figured once she could
imitate French,
she'd have no trouble imitating English.
And, finally, when I thought she'd be
ready, I arranged for a little screen test.
Well, the night before the screen test...
Well, I could've killed myself.
The night before the screen test,
the phone rings.
I pick it up, I said, "O.J. speaking."
She says, "This is Holly."
I says, "Holly? Holly, you sound
so far away, honey. What's with you?"
She says, "I'm in New York."
I said, "What?
You got a screen test tomorrow."
She says, "I'm in New York because
I've never been to New York before."
I said, "Get yourself on the plane.
Get back here."
She says, "I don't wanna."
I say, "What do you mean,
you don't wanna? What do you want?"
She says, "I don't wanna."
I say, "What do you want?"
She says, "When I find out what I want,
I'm gonna let you know." Bang.
-So, look, Fred baby, you know...
-It's Paul baby.
Paul baby. Sure. I mean,
don't tell me that she isn't a phoney.
You know what I mean?
Irving. Honey, Irving,
where have you been?
Great, thanks.
Mike, darling,
I tried reaching you all day long.
Your answering service doesn't answer.
You know the trouble people have
with answering services.
Well, I guess so.
Careful your mother never...
She's been running around.
You look so wonderful.
I know. And after all that she said
about him, and he knows that.
Holly.
-Time, darling.
-What?
The time?
-Do you have a watch?
-No, I don't.
-Let me see it. It's 6:45.
-Thank you so much, dear.
Can I borrow it?
Really, was that necessary?
This is some party.
Who are all these people, anyhow?
Who knows? The word gets out.
You don't mind, do you, darling?
Reinforcements.
-Where do I put it?
-Right in there.
Holly.
Holly, darling.
-What's that?
-Mag Wildwood.
She's a model, believe it or not,
and a thumping bore.
But just look at the goodies
she brought with her.
He's all right, I suppose, if you like
dark, handsome, rich-looking men
with passionate natures
and too many teeth.
I don't mean that one.
I mean the other one.
-The other one?
-He's Rusty Trawler.
Rusty Trawler.
He happens to be the ninth-richest man
in America under 50.
Now that indeed is a remarkable piece
of information to have at your fingertips.
I keep track of these things.
-Excuse me. You owe me $47...
-Hold this a minute, will you, darling?
Mag, darling, what are you doing here?
Honey, I was upstairs
working with Yunioshi.
Easter stuff for the Bazaar.
Then these two nice boys came
to pick me up.
It was a mistake, of course.
My wires got crossed somewhere.
They were both very sweet about it.
May I present Jos da Silva Pereira?
He's from Brazil.
Miss Golightly.
Very kind of you, Miss Golightly,
to allow me to attend your party.
I'm so interested
in North American culture.
I've been already, of course,
to the Statue of Liberty
and to the restaurant Automatique.
But this is the first time
I'm in a typical North American home.
Wouldn't he just melt in your mouth?
And this is Mr Rusty Trawler.
Miss Golightly.
You're not vexed at me
for bringing them?
-Of course not, darling.
-I'm glad.
Now, who's going to bring me
a bourbon?
-O.J.
-Yeah?
-Would you get Miss Wildwood a drink?
-Yeah. Which one's Miss Wildwood?
Mr Berman, we haven't been
formally introduced,
but I'm Mag Wildwood
from Wildwood, Arkansas.
That's hill country.
You just make yourself
right at home, senhor.
Oh, do not trouble yourself.
I'm contented to stand observing
the customs of your country.
Okay, you do that.
Now, come along, Mr Trawler.
Let's see what we can find
to amuse you with.
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
I wasn't supposed to pick you up.
You said you would pick me up,
and at the last minute, I had Gil come...
Look, I wasn't supposed to pick you up,
here or anywhere.
-Yes?
-Miss Golightly?
This time I'm warning you.
I am definitely this time going to
calling the police!
Good evening.
Is it something important?
No. Just the guy upstairs.
Complaining about the noise.
He's angry.
Well, he did mention something
about calling the police.
Oh, the police. The police?
Oh. That I cannot have. I'd better
look for Miss Wildwood and go.
To think I'd find a beau of mine,
mousing after a piece of
cheap Hollywood trash.
-Mag, darling, you're being a bore.
-Shut up.
You. You know what's going to
happen to you?
I am going to march you over to the zoo
and feed you to the yak.
Just as soon as I finish this drink.
Timber!
Sorry.
Good evening, Ed.
-It's Paul baby.
-Oh, yes.
-You remember Irving, don't you?
-Yeah. Hi, Irving.
-This is Jos.
-Nice to meet you, Jos.
-Wonderful seeing you.
-Yes.
Jewel thieves.
Sally helps me with my accounts.
I have no head for figures at all.
I'm trying desperately to save
some money. You know, I told you.
I just can't seem to.
He makes me write down
everything in there.
What I get, what I spend.
I used to have a checking account,
but he made me get rid of that.
He feels, for me, anyway, that it's better
to operate on a cash basis, tax-wise.
Some day, Mr Fred, you take this book,
turn it into a novel.
Everything is there.
Just fill in a little of the details.
Certainly would be good
for some laughs.
No. No, I don't think so.
This is a book would break the heart.
"Mr Fitzsimmons, powder room, $50."
"Less $18."
"Repair one black satin dress."
"Cat food, 27 cents."
Sally, darling, please stop.
You're making me blush.
But you're right about
Jack Fitzsimmons, he's an absolute rat.
I guess, of course,
I don't really know anybody but rats.
Except, of course, Fred here.
You do think Fred is nice,
don't you, Sally?
For you, I hope he is.
Give me a kiss goodbye.
Goodbye, Uncle Sally. Till next week.
Goodbye, Uncle Sally.
Goodbye and don't forget
to send that book, eh?
I won't.
What about the weather report?
Oh, yes.
Snow flurries expected this weekend
in New Orleans.
Snow flurries expected this weekend
in New Orleans?
Isn't that just the weirdest?
I bet they haven't had snow
in New Orleans for a million years.
I don't know how he thinks them up.
Moon River
Wider than a mile
l'm crossing you in style
Some day
Oh, dream maker
You heartbreaker
Wherever you're going
l'm going your way
Two drifters
Off to see the world
There's such a lot of world
To see
We're after
The same
Rainbow's end
Waiting 'round the bend
My huckleberry friend
Moon River
And me
-Hi.
-Hi.
-What you doing?
-Writing.
Good.
Well, hello.
-What's wrong?
-I don't know.
It's probably nothing.
I want to see if he's still there.
See if who's still there?
What are you talking about?
Look.
See? I noticed him yesterday afternoon.
I didn't say anything,
I didn't want to sound neurotic
-but when he's there again today...
-Who do you think he is?
It could be anybody, of course,
but what crossed my mind was
suppose Bill's having us watched, huh?
Okay, I'll take care of this.
No. No, don't. Please.
Look, if that's what it is,
you'll only make everything worse.
I'll be careful. You wait here.
Darling, please don't.
I don't think you should.
Now take it easy.
I just want to find out
what this is all about.
All right, what do you want?
Son, I need a friend.
That's me. That's her.
That's her brother Fred.
You're Holly's father?
Her name ain't Holly.
She was Lulamae Barnes.
Was till she married me.
I'm her husband, Doc Golightly.
Paul Varjak.
I'm a horse doctor. Animal man.
Do some farming, too,
near Tulip, Texas.
Her brother Fred's
getting out of the army soon.
Lulamae belongs home
with her husband,
her brother and her children.
Children?
Them's her children.
She's got four children?
Now, son, I didn't claim they was
her natural-born children.
Their own precious mother,
precious woman
passed away July the 4th,
Independence Day, 1955,
the year of the drought.
When I married Lulamae,
she was going on 14.
Now, you might think
the average person going on 14
wouldn't know his own mind.
But you take Lulamae.
She was an exceptional person.
I'll tell you, son,
she just plumb broke our hearts
when she run off like she done.
Just plain had no reason.
All the housework was done
by her daughters.
Lulamae could just take it easy.
I tell you, that woman got positively fat
while her brother,
he growed up into a giant.
Which is a sight different
from the way they come to us.
A couple of wild young'uns, they was.
I caught them outside the house
stealing milk and turkey eggs.
Lulamae and her brother
had been living
with some mean, no-account people
about 100 mile east of Tulip.
She had good cause to run off
from that house.
Never had none to leave mine.
What about her brother?
Didn't he leave, too?
No, sir. We had Fred with us
till they took him in the army.
That's what I come to talk to her about.
I had a letter from him.
He's getting out of the army in February.
That's why I got on a Greyhound bus
to come to get her.
Lulamae's place is with her husband,
her children, and her brother.
Huh?
It's the prize in the Cracker Jack.
You want it?
Never could understand
why that woman run off.
Don't tell me she weren't happy.
Talky as a jaybird she was.
With something smart to say
on every subject.
Better than the radio.
The night I proposed, I cried like a baby.
She said, "What you want to cry for,
Doc? Of course we'll be married.
"I've never been married before."
Well, I had to laugh and to hug
and to squeeze her.
"Never been married before."
Listen, son.
I advised you I need a friend.
'Cause I don't want to surprise
or scare her none.
Be my friend. Let her know I'm here.
Will you do that for me, son?
Yeah, sure, Doc. If that's what you want.
Come on.
All right.
Coming.
Oh, darling, I'm just on my way out.
I was supposed to be at 21
half an hour ago.
Maybe we can have a drink
or something tomorrow, huh?
Sure, Lulamae,
if you're still here tomorrow.
Oh, please, where is he?
Fred?
Gosh.
Lulamae.
Gee, honey, don't they feed you
up here? You're so skinny.
-Hi, Doc.
-Gosh, Lulamae.
Kingdom come.
What is it? What's the matter?
Are you all right?
I guess so. No, I'm not.
-Fred, will you help me?
-If I can.
I want you to come to the bus station
with us, Doc and me.
-What?
-He still thinks I'm going back with him.
I need support.
I don't think I can play this scene alone.
Holly, what can I do?
He's your husband.
-No, he's not.
-He's not?
It was annulled ages ago,
but he just won't accept it.
Please, Fred. I'll tell him
you're coming to see us off.
Don't say anything.
Just meet us out front in about an hour.
Please?
You wait right here, honey.
I'll get the bag.
Why don't I get some magazines?
Please, Fred. Don't leave me.
Attention, please.
Leaving from platform five,
through coach to Dallas,
Philadelphia, Columbus, lndianapolis,
Terre Haute,
St. Louis, Tulsa, Oklahoma City,
Denison, Dallas.
Come on, Lulamae. That's us.
Doc, I'm not coming with you.
Come on. Let's walk together quietly
and I'll try and help you understand.
Help me talk to him, Fred.
It's all right, son.
I appreciate you wanna help,
but it's between Lulamae and me.
Sure, Doc.
I love you, Lulamae.
I know you do,
and that's just the trouble.
It's a mistake you always made, Doc,
trying to love a wild thing.
You were always lugging home
wild things.
Once it was
a hawk with a broken wing
and another time it was
a full-grown wildcat with a broken leg.
Remember?
Lulamae, there's something...
You mustn't give your heart
to a wild thing.
The more you do, the stronger they get.
Until they're strong enough to run
into the woods or fly into a tree.
And then to a higher tree
and then to the sky.
Lulamae, there's something
I got to tell you.
A couple of weeks ago,
I got a letter from young Fred.
From Fred? He's all right, isn't he?
Yeah, he's fine, I guess.
He's getting out of the army in February.
-That's what he wrote to tell me.
-In February?
Well, that's only four months.
So you see, you got to
come back with me, Lulamae.
Your place is with me and your children
and your brother.
Doc, you've got to understand.
I can't come back.
And you got to understand
what I'm trying to tell you.
Now, I don't want to seem like I'm
pressuring you none, but now I got to.
If you don't come back with me,
I'm gonna have to write young Fred
and tell him that
unless he wants to look out for hisself,
he better sign up for another hitch.
Doc, don't you do that.
Don't write that to him.
I'll write him myself and tell him
I want him here with me.
I'll take care of him. Don't you worry.
You're talking crazy, Lulamae.
Doc, stop calling me that.
I'm not Lulamae any more.
All right, Lulamae.
I guess you know what you're doing.
Keep an eye on her, will you, son?
At least see she eats something
once in a while.
Sure, Doc.
So skinny.
Please, Doc. Please understand.
I love you,
but I'm just not Lulamae any more.
I'm not.
You know the terrible thing,
Fred, darling?
I am still Lulamae.
Fourteen years old, stealing turkey eggs
and running through a briar patch.
But now I call it having the mean reds.
Well, it's still too early to go to Tiffany's.
I guess the next best thing is a drink.
Yes, I very much need a drink.
-Will you buy me one, Fred, darling?
-Sure.
Only promise me one thing.
Don't take me home until I'm drunk.
Until I'm very drunk indeed.
Do you think she's talented?
-Deeply and importantly talented?
-No.
Amusingly and superficially talented,
yes,
but deeply and importantly, no.
Gracious.
Do you think she's handsomely paid?
Oh, indeed.
Well, let me tell you something, mister.
If I had her money,
I'd be richer than she is.
-How do you figure that?
-Because I'd keep the candy store.
Old Sally Tomato.
That's my candy store.
I'd always keep Sally.
And that's why I'd be richer than she is.
We'd better get a little more air.
...Tom, Dick, and Harry. No. Correction.
Every Tom, Dick and Sid,
Harry was his friend.
Anyway, every Tom, Dick and Sid
thinks that if he takes a girl to dinner,
she'll just curl up like a kitten
in a little furry ball at his feet, right?
I have by actual count
been taken to dinner
by 26 different rats
in the last two months.
Twenty-seven, if you count
Benny Shacklett,
who is in many ways a super-rat.
-I think I forgot my key.
-Never mind. I just buzzed Yunioshi.
Do you wanna know something funny?
In spite of the fact that
most of these rats fork up
$50 for the powder room
like little dolls,
I find I have again by actual count
$9 less in the old bank account
than I had six months ago.
So, my darling Fred,
I have tonight
made a very serious decision.
And what is that?
No longer will I play the field.
-Congratulations.
-The field stinks,
both economically and socially.
And I'm giving it up.
Miss Golightly, this time
I'm not only calling the police,
but the fire department and the
New York State Housing Commission,
and, if necessary, the Board of Health!
Quiet up there.
You want to wake the whole house?
As Miss Golightly was saying
before she was so rudely interrupted,
Miss Golightly further announces
her intention
to devote
her many considerable talents
to the immediate capture,
for the purpose of matrimony
of Mr Rutherford.
Rusty to his friends,
of whom I'm sure he has many.
-Trawler.
-Who?
Rusty Trawler. You met him at my party
a couple of weeks ago.
He came with Mag Wildwood.
Not the beautiful Latin type.
The other one,
the one that looks like a pig.
Remember?
The ninth-richest man in America
under 50?
Do I detect a look of disapproval
in your eye?
Tough beans, buddy,
'cause that's the way it's gonna be.
Hi, cat.
Holly, you're drunk.
True.
-Absolutely true. True, but irrelevant.
-What are you doing?
So I think we should have a drink
to the new Mrs Rusty Trawler.
-Me.
-Hey, take it easy.
What's the matter,
don't you think I can do it?
Tell me. Seriously, I'm interested.
Don't you think I can?
You heard the Doc.
My brother gets out of the army
in February
and the Doc won't take him back.
So it's all up to me.
I don't know why you don't understand.
I need money, and I'll do whatever
I have to do to get it.
So,
this time next month,
I'll be the new Mrs Rusty Trawler.
And I think we should have
a little drink to that.
It's all gone. Isn't that too bad?
Got any whisky upstairs?
-But you've had enough.
-Go ahead. Get the whisky.
I'll pay you for it.
-Holly, please.
-No, no, you disapprove of me
and I do not accept drinks
from gentlemen who disapprove of me.
I'll pay for my own whisky
and don't you forget it.
Holly.
I do not accept drinks
from disapproving gentlemen.
Especially not disapproving gentlemen
who are kept by other ladies.
So take it.
You should be used to taking money
from ladies by now.
If I were you, I'd be more careful
with my money.
Rusty Trawler is too hard a way
of earning it.
It should take you exactly four seconds
to cross from here to that door.
I'll give you two.
Hi.
I've come up to talk to you
about the other night,
then I saw the paper, and...
Well, actually,
I'm kind of embarrassed about it,
but since it concerns you, I thought
I ought to talk to you about it in person.
What?
The earplugs.
I can't go through the whole thing again.
It's sufficient to say,
I've come to make up.
And as an added inducement,
I have all kinds of news.
Can I come in?
I guess so. Just a minute.
Do I have a nightgown on?
No, I don't. Would you mind
turning around for a second?
Oh, never mind.
It's such a corny line anyway.
I'll turn around myself.
Come in.
Have you seen the paper?
Rusty, you mean?
Yes. I know all about it.
Certainly had him pegged wrong,
didn't I?
I thought he was just a rat,
but he was a super-rat all along.
A super-rat in rat's clothing.
You don't even know the best part.
Not only was he a rat,
or a super-rat, rather,
he was also broke.
Broke. I mean, but not a farthing.
His family has money, of course,
but he personally is broke.
It turns out he owes $700,000.
Can you imagine
anyone owing $700,000?
$43, yes.
Anyway, that's why he decided
to marry the queen of the pig people.
I'll tell you one thing, Fred, darling,
I'd marry you for your money
in a minute.
-Would you marry me for my money?
-In a minute.
So I guess it's pretty lucky
neither of us is rich, huh?
Yeah.
Fred, darling, I'm so glad to see you.
What have you been doing?
Writing, mostly.
Sold a story. Just got word this morning.
Oh, that's marvellous. It really is.
But...
Only how does your decorator friend
feel about it?
I thought you were supposed to be
saving yourself and all of that?
You know something?
I haven't got around to telling her
about it yet.
Look, why don't we go out
and have a drink
or take a walk or something
to celebrate?
All right.
I think there's some champagne
in the icebox.
Why don't you open it
while I get dressed?
Okay.
I don't think I've ever drunk champagne
before breakfast before.
With breakfast on several occasions.
But never before, before.
Now I've got a wonderful idea.
We can spend a whole day doing things
we've never done before.
We'll take turns. First something
you've never done, then me.
Of course, I can't really think of anything
I've never done.
I've never been for a walk
in the morning before.
At least not since I've been in New York.
I've walked up Fifth Avenue at 6:00,
but as far as I'm concerned,
that's still night.
-Do you think it counts?
-Sure it counts. Now we're even.
-Don't you just love it?
-Love what?
Tiffany's.
Isn't it wonderful?
You see what I mean how nothing bad
could ever happen to you
in a place like this?
It isn't that I give a hoot about jewellery,
except diamonds, of course.
Like that.
What do you think?
Well...
Of course, personally, I think it would be
tacky to wear diamonds before I'm 40.
Well, you're right. But in the meantime,
you should have something.
I'll wait.
No. I'm gonna buy you a present.
You bought me one, a typewriter ribbon,
and it brought me luck.
All right, but Tiffany's can be
pretty expensive.
I've got my cheque and $10.
Oh, I wouldn't let you cash your cheque.
But a present for $10 or under,
that I'll accept.
Of course, I don't exactly know what
we're going to find at Tiffany's for $10.
May I help you?
Perhaps. Actually, we were looking
for a present for the lady.
Certainly, sir.
Is there something special
you had in mind?
Well, we had considered diamonds.
Now, I don't want to offend you,
but the lady feels
that diamonds are tacky for her.
Oh, I think they're divine
on older women,
but I don't think they'd be right for me.
You do understand?
Certainly.
In all fairness, I think I ought to explain.
There's also a secondary problem.
One of finance.
We can only afford to spend
a limited amount.
-May I ask how limited?
-$10.
$10?
That was the outside figure, yes.
I see.
Do you have anything for $10?
Well, frankly, madam,
within that price range,
the variety of merchandise
is rather limited.
However, I do think we might have,
let me see...
Strictly as a novelty, you understand.
For the lady and gentleman
who has everything,
a sterling silver telephone dialler
at $6.75, including tax.
A sterling silver telephone dialler.
Yes, sir. At $6.75, including federal tax.
Well, the price is right, but I must say,
I'd rather hoped for something
slightly more, how shall I say it,
romantic in feeling.
What do you think?
As sterling silver telephone diallers go,
I certainly think it's handsome,
but, well, you do understand?
Well, we tried, but I guess...
We could have something engraved,
couldn't we?
Yes, I suppose so.
Yes, indeed.
The only problem is, you would more
or less have to buy something first
if only in order to have some object
upon which to place the engraving.
You see the difficulty.
Well...
We could have this engraved,
couldn't we?
I think it would be very smart.
This, I take it, was not
purchased at Tiffany's?
No.
Actually, it was purchased
concurrent with...
Well, actually, it came inside of...
well, a box of Cracker Jack.
I see.
Do they still really have prizes
in Cracker Jack boxes?
-Oh, yes.
-That's nice to know.
It gives one a feeling of solidarity,
almost of continuity with the past,
that sort of thing.
Do you think Tiffany's
would really engrave it for us?
I mean, you don't think
they would feel it was beneath them
or anything like that?
Well, it is rather unusual, madam.
But I think you'll find that Tiffany's
is very understanding.
If you would tell me what initials
you would like,
I think we could have something
ready for you in the morning.
Didn't I tell you this was a lovely place?
What is this place, anyway?
You said you wanted to sit down.
It's the public library.
-You've never been here?
-No. That makes two for me.
-I don't see any books.
-They're in there.
See?
Each one of these little drawers
is stuffed with little cards.
And each little card is
a book or an author.
I think that's fascinating.
V-A-R-J-A-K.
Really?
Look. Isn't it marvellous?
There you are, right in the public library.
"Varjak, Paul. Nine Lives. "
And then a lot of numbers.
Do you think they really have
the book itself, live?
Sure. Follow me.
Number 57. That's us.
Fifty-seven, please.
Nine Lives by Varjak, Paul.
Did you ever read it?
It's absolutely marvellous.
-No, I'm afraid I haven't.
-Well, you should. He wrote it.
He's Varjak, Paul, in person.
She doesn't believe me.
Show her your driver's licence
or Diner's Club card or something.
Honest, he really is the author.
Cross my heart and kiss my elbow.
Would you kindly
lower your voice, miss?
Why don't you autograph it to them?
Don't you think it'd be nice?
Sort of make it more personal?
Really, miss...
Go ahead. Don't be so stuck up,
autograph it to them.
All right, what shall I say?
Something sentimental, I think.
What are you doing? Stop that!
-You're defacing public property.
-Well, all right, if that's the way you feel.
Come on, Fred, darling.
Let's get out of here.
I don't think
this place is half as nice as Tiffany's.
Hey, did you ever steal anything
from a five-and-ten
when you were a kid, I mean?
No. I'm the sensitive, bookish type.
Did you?
I used to. I still do every now and then,
sort of to keep my hand in.
Come on. Don't be chicken.
Anyway, you've never done it,
and it's your turn.
I can't see.
Hi, cat.
Lady of the house at home?
Holly?
Trick or treat.
You're crazy. You know that, don't you?
But I love you anyway.
-2-E.
-Yeah?
I've got to talk to you.
All right.
You want a drink?
If this is going to be
a serious discussion
and suddenly I'm terribly afraid it is,
you're going to have to take off
that ridiculous mask
or else I'm going to have to
wear one, too.
2-E, look, please.
What's the matter? Girl trouble?
Is that it, darling?
Oh, I see.
Well, that's not so serious.
As a matter of fact,
I've been expecting it.
I can't say I like it,
but I've been expecting it.
-Who is she?
-Hasn't got anything to do with her.
This is between you and me.
Then it is serious.
Well, now.
2-E, you're a very stylish girl.
Can't we end this stylishly?
-End it?
-Yes.
Well...
I do believe love has found Andy Hardy.
Let's see,
a waitress?
A salesgirl?
No. She'd have to be someone rich,
wouldn't she, Paul?
Someone who could help you.
Curiously enough,
she's a girl who can't help anyone,
not even herself.
Thing is, I can help her,
and it's a nice feeling for a change.
All right.
I understand.
I'll tell you what, Paul.
I am a very stylish girl.
-What are you doing?
-Writing a cheque.
Don't look so bewildered.
Surely you've noticed me
writing cheques before.
"Pay to the order
of Paul Varjak, $1,000."
Take her away somewhere for a week.
You're entitled to a vacation with pay.
Simply a matter of fair labour practise,
darling.
Of course, if you were really smart,
you'd get some of the other boys
together and organise a union.
That way you'd get
all the fringe benefits,
hospitalisation, a pension plan
and unemployment insurance
when you're,
how shall I put it,
between engagements?
Thanks for making it easier for me.
Don't be ridiculous, darling.
Take the cheque.
And call your girl.
No, thanks.
I've got a cheque of my own.
When you get yourself
a new writer to help,
try and find one my size.
That way you won't have to even
shorten the sleeves.
Holly!
Hey.
-What are you doing?
-Excuse me.
I'm sorry.
You look just like a girl I know
named Holly.
Really?
I'm sorry.
Hi.
What do you want?
I want to talk to you.
I'm busy.
-What are you doing?
-Reading.
"South America:
Land of Wealth and Promise"?
It's very interesting.
Let's get out of here.
I said let's get out of here.
I want to talk to you.
What's the matter with you, anyway?
What's happened?
Fred, will you please
just leave me alone?
Holly,
I love you.
-Where are you going?
-To the ladies' room.
-What's the matter with you, anyway?
-Let me go.
-No.
-Fred, please let me go.
Let's get something straight.
I am not now,
nor have I ever been, Fred.
Nor am I Benny Shacklett,
whoever he may be.
My name is Paul, Paul Varjak,
and I love you.
-Let me go.
-Not till we get this settled.
Now what's all this jazz
about South America?
I thought if I'm going to marry
a South American,
I'd better find out something
about the country.
-Marry? What South American?
-Jos.
-Who the hell is Jos?
-Jos da Silva Pereira.
Who the hell's Jos da Silva Pereira?
Darling, you met him. I know you did.
Mag Wildwood's friend.
The tall, good-looking one
who came to the party with Rusty?
Well, my dear, you won't believe this,
but it turns out not only is he handsome
and wildly rich,
he's absolutely cuckoo for me.
-You're crazy.
-What? Do you think you own me?
That's exactly what I think.
I know, I know.
That's what everybody always thinks,
but everybody happens to be wrong.
Look, I am not everybody.
Or am I?
Is that what you really think?
That I'm no different from
all your other rats and super-rats?
Wait a minute.
If that's it,
if that's what you really think,
there's something I want to give you.
What's that?
$50 for the powder room.
I wouldn't ask you in,
except the place is in such a mess
-I couldn't bear to face it alone.
-You have a message.
No.
Ol.
Good evening, Mr Yunioshi.
Good evening, Paul.
Good evening.
Please, you must help me.
Holly.
Holly. Holly.
Holly.
-Holly. Holly.
-Let me go. No!
Holly.
-Holly.
-Fred. Fred.
Holly.
No, no.
Fred.
-What did you do to her?
-Nothing.
There was a telegram, and then this.
Crashing everything, conducting
like a crazy. It's appalling.
I can't have a public scandal.
It's too delicate.
My name, my position, my family.
Will there be the police again,
do you think?
I don't see why. There's no law against
busting up your own apartment.
-Where is the telegram?
-There it is.
"Received notice. Young Fred killed
"in jeep accident, Fort Riley, Kansas.
"Your husband and children
join in the sorrow of our mutual loss.
"Letter following. Love, Doc."
Her brother Fred.
This brother,
was she very close to him?
Yeah.
What can one do?
Try to help her.
I tried. It didn't do much good.
You got a ranch or something
down in Brazil, don't you?
Yes.
That's good. She'll like that.
Well, you better get in there.
-Hi.
-Hello.
Got your wire.
How did you know where to reach me?
Oh, I tried everything.
Called people, asked around
and suddenly thought of looking
in the phone book.
Anyway, I'm glad you could come.
-You look fine.
-You think so?
I'm fat as a pig, and I haven't had
my hair done in months.
But I'm happy, really happy.
It probably shows.
You look trs distingu yourself.
I got a job. I've been writing a little.
I know. I've read three of your stories.
Two in The New Yorker
and one in that funny little magazine.
Won't you sit down?
Thank you.
-I've taken up knitting.
-So I see.
It'll probably look very nice
once it's finished.
Actually, I'm a little nervous about it.
Jos brought up the blueprints
for a new ranch house he's building
and I have this strange feeling
that maybe the blueprints and
my knitting instructions got switched.
I mean, it isn't impossible
that I'm knitting a ranch house.
Really, darling, I can't tell you
how divinely happy I am.
What is that, anyhow?
Portuguese.
A very complicated language.
Four thousand irregular verbs.
Very impressive. What's it mean?
"I believe you are in league
with the butcher."
Holly, what's this about?
Why did you want to see me?
Jos's in Washington for the night
so I thought if I asked you over,
you might come.
And, well, I've said goodbye
to everyone else I care about.
You're going somewhere?
I'm going to Rio tomorrow.
I've got the plane ticket,
and I've even said goodbye to old Sally.
Jos is flying down with you?
We're going on separate planes,
of course.
He doesn't think it would look right
for us to be travelling together.
His family's very important down there,
so he has to worry
about things like that.
Anyway, I thought I'd show off
and cook dinner for us.
It'll be fun eating in.
Did I tell you how divinely
and utterly happy I am?
Yes.
You are getting married, then?
Well, he hasn't really asked me,
not in so many words.
Four, you mean?
Well, that's how many words it takes.
"Will you marry me?"
Oh, we'll get married, all right.
I know we will.
And in church and with his family there
and everything.
And that's why he's waiting
till we get to Rio, probably.
Do you think it's trying
to tell us something?
I hope you like chicken and saffron rice
served with chocolate sauce.
It's an East Indian classic, my dear.
Three months ago,
I couldn't scramble eggs.
Are you all right?
Golly, darling.
I did so want to impress you.
Look,
I'm not much for chicken with sauce,
anyway.
Why don't we go out somewhere?
Let me buy you a farewell dinner.
That would be fun, as long as
it's someplace I can go like this.
Years from now,
years and years, I'll be back.
Me and my nine Brazilian brats.
They'll be dark like Jos, of course,
but they'll have
bright, green, beautiful eyes.
I'll bring them back, all right,
'cause they must see this.
Oh, I love New York.
Then why are you leaving?
What's in it for you, anyway?
Look, I know what you're thinking,
and I don't blame you.
I've always thrown out such a jazzy line.
Really, except for Doc and yourself,
Jos's my first non-rat romance.
Not that he's my idea
of the absolute finito.
He's too prim and cautious
to be my absolute ideal.
Now if I could choose
from anybody alive, I wouldn't pick Jos.
Nehru, maybe, or Albert Schweitzer.
Or Leonard Bernstein.
But I am mad about Jos.
I honestly think I'd give up smoking
if he asked me.
Come on, darling, let's eat.
It's getting late.
I'm leaving tomorrow,
and I haven't even begun to pack.
Didn't want Jos to think I was
the kind of girl who loses her key,
so I had 26 of them made.
No, wait. I got a better idea.
Kind of a farewell gesture.
Somebody must have tripped the lock.
Crafty devil, that Yunioshi.
Wake up, wake up!
The British are coming!
-Or, in this case, the Brazilians.
-Exactly.
-Exactly.
-I've still got to clean up all that rice.
Hey, you know...
Hey!
There she are who did it!
The wanted woman! There!
Groenburger. Narcotics squad.
-What do you mean?
-What's going on?
-Why don't you ask your boss?
-What boss?
Sally Tomato. Why don't you ask him?
Come on.
Look around for narcotic.
They got plenty narcotic in there.
-What's your name?
-Varjak.
Hold it down over there!
Paul Varjak. V-A-R-J-A-K.
-Hey!
-Oh, get lost, will you?
Get out!
I'm a writer.
W-R-I-T-E-R.
-Please. One, one, please.
-One at a time. Please, one.
Good.
-Wait a minute. Wait a minute.
-I can't answer all your questions.
-Just one at a time.
-Knock it off!
Now, darling, why don't you start?
Is it true you carried messages
from Tomato in code?
Of course not.
I'd just meet Mr O'Shaughnessy
at Hamburger Heaven
and give him the weather report.
Simply do not ask me what this is
all about.
But you did used to visit Tomato?
I used to see him every week.
What's wrong with that?
Well, you must've known Tomato was
part of the narcotics syndicate.
Mr Tomato never mentioned
narcotics to me.
It makes me furious the way all these
wretched people keep persecuting him.
He's a deeply sensitive person.
-A darling old man.
-Then you're innocent.
-Of course I'm innocent.
-What are you going to do about it?
-What do you mean?
-Well, who's your lawyer?
I don't know.
Mr O'Shaughnessy, I guess.
Mr O'Shaughnessy!
Hey! Get out of here!
-All right, come on.
-Okay, move.
-Come on, then.
-Mr O'Shaughnessy?
-Shut up!
-Get in there.
-Yeah.
-Mr Paul Varjak?
-Yeah.
-Ready with Mr Berman in Hollywood.
Kindly deposit $3
for the first 3 minutes, please.
Hello?
O.J. Berman here. Who's calling?
-Mr Berman, this is Paul Varjak.
-Nice to talk to you, kid.
Varjak. V-A-R-J-A-K.
I'm a friend of Holly's.
I met you at a party in New York.
-Who?
-Paul. Paul Varjak.
V-A-R...
Mr Berman, this is Fred.
Oh, Fred baby, huh?
So you're calling about the kid, huh?
Everything's under control. Just relax.
I spoke to my lawyer in New York.
I told him to take care of everything,
send me the bill
but to keep my name anonymous.
-What?
-Unknown. I don't want any part of it.
-You hear me?
-You sound like you're in a tunnel.
It's this executive phone I have.
-What?
-Executive phone!
Fred baby, they only got her
on $10,000 bail.
My lawyer can get her out at 10:00
this morning. I'll tell you what you do.
You bust into that dump she lives in,
collect all her junk.
Go down to the jail. Get her out.
Take her straight over to a hotel
under a phoney name, right?
You wanna keep away from
the reporters as much as possible.
Do you know what I mean?
Will you do that?
Sure, Mr Berman.
-I can't tell you how much I appreciate...
-Forget it.
I owe her something.
Not that I owe her anything, I mean,
if you really get right down to it,
but she's a crazy.
She's a phoney.
But she's a real phoney.
-Know what I mean, kid?
-Yeah, I know what you mean.
-Thanks, Mr Berman. Thanks a lot.
-Right!
Why don't you behave?
Quel night.
I did a little housebreaking
while you were away.
Clayton Hotel, driver. 84th and Madison.
O.J. thinks it'd be a good idea
if you stayed out of sight for a while.
I got most of your stuff here,
including cat. Hope he's all right.
Yeah.
Hello, cat.
Poor no-name slob.
Listen, darling.
Did you find that plane ticket?
-Right here. We can cash it in.
-Cash it in? Are you kidding?
What time is it?
-A little after 10:00.
-Good.
Idlewild Airport, please, driver.
-Never mind. You can't do that.
-Why not?
You don't understand.
You're under indictment.
If they catch you jumping bail, they'll
lock you up and throw away the key.
Don't be ridiculous, darling.
By the day after tomorrow,
I'll be married to the future president
of Brazil.
And that'll give me diplomatic immunity
or something.
I wouldn't bet on it.
What is it, darling?
Message for you.
Oh, yes, I see.
Did he bring it in person, or was it,
just there, shoved under the door?
A cousin.
Hand me my purse, will you, darling?
A girl can't read that sort of thing
without her lipstick.
You read it to me, will you, darling?
I don't think I can quite bear...
Sure you want me to?
Okay.
"My dearest little girl,
"I have loved you knowing
you were not as others.
"But conceive of my despair
"upon discovering in such a brutal
and public style
"how very different you are
from the manner of woman
"a man of my position
could hope to make his wife.
"I grieve for the disgrace
of your present circumstances.
"And I do not find it in my heart
"to add my condemn
"to the condemn that surrounds you.
"So I hope you will find it in your heart
not to condemn me.
"I have my family to protect
and my name
"and I am a coward where
these institutions enter.
"Forget me, beautiful child.
And may God be with you.
"Jos."
Well?
Well, at least he's honest.
-It's kind of touching.
-Touching?
That square-ball jazz.
He says he's a coward.
All right. So he's not a regular rat
or even a super-rat.
He's just a scared little mouse,
that's all.
But, oh, golly.
Gee, damn.
Well, so much for South America.
I didn't really think you were cut out
to be queen of the Pampas, anyway.
-Clayton Hotel.
-Idlewild.
What?
The plane leaves at 12:00.
And on it I plan to be.
Holly, you can't.
I'm not hotfooting it after Jos,
if that's what you think. Oh, no.
As far as I'm concerned,
he's the future president of nowhere.
Only why should I waste
a perfectly good plane ticket?
Besides, I've never been to Brazil.
Please, darling, don't sit there
looking at me like that.
I'm going and that's all there is to it.
Now all they want from me
are my services as the state's witness
against Sally.
Nobody has any intention
of prosecuting me.
To begin with,
they don't have a ghost of a chance.
Even so, this town's finished for me.
At least for a while.
There are certain shades of limelight
that can wreck a girl's complexion.
They'll have the rope up
at every saloon in town.
I'll tell you what you do for me, darling.
When you get back to town,
I want you to call up the
New York Times or whoever you call.
I want you to mail me a list
of the 50 richest men in Brazil.
The 50 richest.
-Holly, I'm not going to let you do this.
-You're not going to let me?
Holly, I'm in love with you.
-So what?
-So what?
So plenty.
-I love you. You belong to me.
-No.
-People don't belong to people.
-Of course they do.
I'm not gonna let anyone
put me in a cage.
I don't want to put you in a cage.
I want to love you.
-It's the same thing.
-No, it's not.
-Holly...
-I'm not Holly.
I'm not Lulamae, either.
I don't know who I am.
I'm like cat, here.
We're a couple of no-name slobs.
We belong to nobody.
And nobody belongs to us.
We don't even belong to each other.
Stop the cab.
What do you think?
This ought to be the right kind of place
for a tough guy like you.
Garbage cans, rats galore.
Scram!
I said take off! Beat it!
Let's go.
Driver
pull over here.
You know what's wrong with you,
Miss Whoever-you-are?
You're chicken. You've got no guts.
You're afraid to stick out your chin
and say, "Okay, life's a fact."
People do fall in love.
People do belong to each other
because that's the only chance
anybody's got for real happiness.
You call yourself a free spirit,
a wild thing.
And you're terrified somebody's
going to stick you in a cage.
Well, baby, you're already in that cage.
You built it yourself.
And it's not bounded in the west
by Tulip, Texas
or in the east by Somaliland.
It's wherever you go.
Because no matter where you run,
you just end up running into yourself.
Here. I've been carrying this thing
around for months.
I don't want it any more.
Here, cat!
Cat!
Where's the cat?
I don't know.
Cat!
Cat.