REAR WINDOW

by

John Michael Hayes

Based on a short story by

Cornell Woolrich



FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY




FINAL WHITE SCRIPT
December 1, 1953




Converted to PDF by ScreenTalk™ Online
http://www.screentalk.org
 REAR WINDOW 1.


FADE IN:

INT. JEFFERIES' APARTMENT - (DAY) - LONG SHOT

Although we do not see the foreground window frame, we
see the whole background of a Greenwich Village street.
We can see the rear of a number of assorted houses and
small apartment buildings whose fronts face on the next
crosstown street, sharply etched by the morning sun.
Some are two stories high; others three; some have
peaked roofs, others are flat. There is a mixture of
brick and wood and wrought iron in the construction.
The apartment buildings have fire escapes, the others do
not.

The neighborhood is not a prosperous one, but neither is
it poor. It is a practical, conventional dwelling place
for people living on marginal incomes, luck - or hope
and careful planning.

The summer air is motionless and heavy with humid heat.
It has opened windows wide, pushed back curtains, lifted
blinds and generally brought the neighborhood life into
a sweltering intimacy. Yet, people born and bred to
life within earshot and eyeglance of a score of
neighbors have learned to preserve their own private
worlds by uniformly ignoring each other, except on
direct invitation.

THE CAMERA PULLS BACK until a large sleeping profile of
a man fills the screen. It is so large that we do not
see any features, but merely the temple and side of the
cheek down which a stream of sweat is running.

THE CAMERA PANS OFF this to the right hand side of the
window, and MOVES TO a thermometer which is hanging on
the wall just outside the window. It registers 84.

THE CAMERA MOVES ON into the open, and brings nearer to
us a room with a large studio window. We are able to
see inside this room. A short, balding man is standing
near the window, shaving, using a small bowl of water
and a portable mirror which he has set up on a shelf.
To the right of him is a battered upright piano. On top
of the piano is a radio. The music selection coming
from the radio stops, and the announcer is heard.

ANNOUNCER
The time - 7:15 A.M., WOR, New York.
The temperature, outside, 84 ---
Friends - is your life worth one
dollar?
 REAR WINDOW 2.


The man shaving quickly puts down his razor, hurries to
the radio, and changes the station, moving past a number
of commercial voices until he again finds some music.
Contented, he returns to his shaving.

THE CAMERA MOVES ON AND OVER to a far building. It
passes over the face of this building until it comes to
fire escapes. It goes up and near enough to one which
has become the outdoor bedroom of a couple. We are near
enough to see an alarm clock hanging from the rail which
is now ringing vigorously. A man rises lazily to a
sitting position. He gropes to switch the alarm off.
We see that his pajamas are stained with sweat. In his
sitting position he leans forward and shakes somebody
beside him. To our surprise, the head of this other
person - a woman - rises where his feet are. They have
been sleeping in opposite directions. They sit limply
looking at each other with bedraggled and weary
expressions which show they enjoyed very little sleep in
the heat of the night.

THE CAMERA NOW MOVES DOWN toward the left onto another
low building. It MOVES IN A LITTLE to a living room
window. Just inside the windowsill, a small fan is
oscillating. The fan sits on the right side of the
table, and to the left of it is an automatic toaster.
Behind the toaster stands a full-bodied young woman,
apparently wearing only a pair of black panties. Her
stomach, navel, and the lower part of her chest are
naked. Just below her breasts, the curtain, partly
drawn, has thrown a deep shadow which extends upward,
hiding her breasts, shoulders and head. Two pieces of
toast pop up in the toaster. She takes them out,
butters them. Then she turns around and bends over
another table on which stands an automatic coffee-maker.
She picks up the coffee-maker, and swings back to the
table to sit down. She does this so deftly that her
breasts are never exposed, but hidden by the fan as she
sits down. The fan moves back and forth as she pours
coffee, far enough to reveal that she wears no bra, but
not far enough to fulfill the exciting promise of her
lack of clothes.

THE CAMERA MOVES ON to a distant street corner seen
between two buildings. The traffic is very light at
this hour, but a Sanitation Department truck moves
through the intersection spraying water out behind it to
cool the pavement and keep the dust down. Three little
kids in bathing suits run behind the truck, playing in
the water.

THE CAMERA MOVES OFF and around to some buildings at the
side. As it skims this building, we see a hand emerge
from one of the windows, and remove the cover from a
birdcage which is hanging from a hook on the wall
outside. In the cage are two lovebirds - arguing.
 REAR WINDOW 3.


THE CAMERA NOW PULLS BACK SWIFTLY and retreats through
the open window back into Jefferies' apartment. We now
see more of the sleeping man. THE CAMERA GOES IN far
enough to show a head and shoulders of him.

He is L. B. JEFFERIES. A tall, lean, energetic
thirtyfive, his face long and serious-looking at rest,
is in other circumstances capable of humor, passion,
naive wonder and the kind of intensity that bespeaks
inner convictions of moral strength and basic honesty.

He is sitting in an Everest and Jennings wheelchair.

THE CAMERA PANS along his right leg. It is encased in
a plaster of Paris spica from his waistline to the base
of his toes. Along the white cast someone has written
"Here lie the broken bones of L. B. Jefferies."

THE CAMERA PANS to a nearby table on which rests a
shattered and twisted Speed Graphic Camera, the kind
used by fast-action news photographers.

On the same table, the CAMERA PANS to an eight by ten
glossy photo print. It shows a dirt track auto racing
speedway, taken from a point dangerously near the center
of the track. A racing car is skidding toward the
camera, out of control, spewing a cloud of dust behind
it. A rear wheel has come off the car, and the wheel is
bounding at top speed directly into the camera lens.

THE CAMERA MOVES UP to a framed photograph on the wall.
It is a fourteen by ten print, an essay in violence,
having caught on film the exploding semi-second when a
heavy artillery shell arches into a front-line Korean
battle outpost. Men and equipment erupt into the air
suspended in a solution of blasted rock, dust and
screeching shrapnel. That the photographer was not a
casualty is evident, but surprising when the short
distance between the camera and the explosion is
estimated. A signature in the lower right hand corner
of the picture reads -- "L. B. Jefferies."

THE CAMERA PANS to a second photograph of a picket line
at an aircraft plant strike. Strikers, non-strikers and
police are embroiled in a bitter and confused riot.
Clubs, fists and truncheons swing, blood flows, faces
twist with emotion and fallen victims struggle to regain
their feet. The picture represents no distant, cautions
photographic observation, but rather an intimate report,
so immediate and real that the viewer has the nervous
feeling the fight surrounds him and he had best defend
himself. The same signature, "L. B. Jefferies," is in
the corner.
 REAR WINDOW 4.


THE CAMERA PANS TO another framed picture, this one a
beautiful and awesome shot of an atomic explosion at
Frenchman's Flat, Nevada. It is the cul-de-sac of
violence. The picture taken at a distant observation
point, shows some spectators in the foreground watching
the explosion through binoculars.

THE CAMERA MOVES ON to a shelf containing a number of
cameras, photographic film, etc. It then PAN ACROSS a
large viewer on which is resting a negative of a woman's
head.

From this, THE CAMERA MOVES ON to a magazine cover, and
although we do not see the name of the magazine, we can
see the head on the cover is the positive of the
negative we have just passed.

THE CAMERA FINALLY COMES TO REST ON a pile of
magazines - perhaps a hundred or so. They are all of
the same publication.

LAP DISSOLVE TO:

INT. GUNNISON'S OFFICE - (DAY) - CLOSE UP

The screen is filled with the top of a desk. In
addition to the usual telephones, blotting pad, etc.,
the most prominent feature is the number of glossy photo
prints, and even larger-sized mat prints. Some of them
have slips pasted over with descriptions. The center of
the desk is occupied by a large layout of photographs on
one magazine page. Behind this we hear the murmur of
two voices of men who can be vaguely seen beyond the
desk.

THE CAMERA PANS UP and we are now face to face with IVAR
GUNNISON and JACK BRYCE. Gunnison is sitting on a
window-ledge, and beyond him we realize we are high
above the New York streets. Bryce leans against a wall
at right angles to him.

Gunnison is holding a cablegram in his hand. Bryce has
a cigarette in his mouth. He scratches a match, and is
about to light it, when he notices that Gunnison, still
reading the cable, has reached into an inside shirt
pocket, and produced a cigarette. Quickly, Bryce moves
over to light Gunnison's cigarette. Then he settles
back to light his own. Gunnison doesn't even bother to
thank him.

GUNNISON
(Looks up)
Indo-China - Jeff predicted it would
go sky-high.
 REAR WINDOW 5.


BRYCE
From the looks of Davidson's cable,
it might even go higher than that.
And we haven't even got a camera over
there.

GUNNISON
(Stands)
This could go off in a month - or an
hour.

BRYCE
I'll pull somebody out of Japan.

GUNNISON
(Heads for his phone)
Bryce, the only man for this job is
sitting right here in town.
(Picks up phone)
Get me L. B. Jefferies.

BRYCE
(Puzzled)
Jefferies?

GUNNISON
(To Bryce; still holding
phone)
Name me a better photographer.

BRYCE
(He can't)
But his leg!

GUNNISON
Don't worry - it comes off today.

Bryce gives Gunnison a startled look.

GUNNISON
I mean the cast.
(To phone)

INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI CLOSEUP

Shooting through the open window, onto Jeff. He is
shaving himself with an electric razor as the phone
rings. He shuts off the shaver, picks up the phone.

JEFF
Jefferies.
 REAR WINDOW 6.


GUNNISON
(On filter)
Congratulations, Jeff.

JEFF
For what?

GUNNISON
For getting rid of that cast.

JEFF
Who said I was getting rid of it?

At this moment, his attention is drawn to something
across the way. He looks up, expectantly. There is
almost a touch of eagerness in his expression.


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - (DAY) - LONG SHOT

While Jeff is continuing his phone conversation, we see
the object of his look. Two pretty girls have appeared
on the distant roof. They are smiling and talking,
although we cannot hear their dialogue. Each wears a
terrycloth robe. With their backs to the CAMERA, they
take off the robes, slipping them down over their
shoulders slowly. Then, seductively, they turn -
revealing the full beauty of their tanned and bathing-
suited bodies. It is almost as if they want to be
noticed, the center of neighborhood attention. They at
least have all of Jeff's attention. Then they spread
the robes in front of them, and lie down on the roof,
and out of sight. Jeff seems a little disappointed.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (DAY) - SEMI-CLOSEUP

During the whole of this previous action, the
conversation between Jeff and Gunnison has gone on as
follows:

GUNNISON
(With logical proof)
This is Wednesday.

JEFF
Gunnison - how did you get to be such
a big editor - with such a small
memory?

GUNNISON
Wrong day?
 REAR WINDOW 7.


JEFF
Wrong week. Next Wednesday I emerge
from this plaster cocoon.

GUNNISON
That's too bad, Jeff. Well, I guess
I can't be lucky every day. Forget
I called.

JEFF
Yeah. I sure feel sorry for you,
Gunnison. Must be rough on you
thinking of me wearing this cast
another whole week.


INT. GUNNISON'S OFFICE - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP

Gunnison is now seated at his desk, with the phone
receiver to his ear. His assistant, Bryce, can be seen
vaguely in the background.

GUNNISON
That one week is going to cost me my
best photographer - and you a big
assignment.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSE-UP

Jeff asks, eagerly and alertly.

JEFF
Where?

We hear Gunnison's reply.

GUNNISON
There's no point in even talking
about it.

Jeff's eyes become set upon something else in the
neighborhood he sees.

EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - LONG SHOT

Jeff's attention is now drawn to another feature of his
backyard entertainment. THE CAMERA IS NOW FOCUSED on
the window of the small building where we earlier saw
the girl behind the oscillating fan. Loud ballet music
is pouring from her open window. The girl, now dressed
 REAR WINDOW 8.


in dark and revealing leotard, and ballet slippers, has
just turned away from a portable record player. She
begins the first graceful movement of a modern ballet
interpretation.

She gracefully moves across the room to the rhythm of
the music and dance, toward the ice box. With her feet
still moving, she throws open the door, and then
rhythmically moving back to the center of the room,
gnaws the chicken bone, occasionally waving it in the
air as part of the choreography. She now twirls over
toward a table at the other side of the room on which is
an open package of bread slices, some butter nearby.
With swaying body, she puts down the chicken leg, and
gracefully and rhythmically butters a slice of bread.

She picks up both bread and chicken leg and continues
her interpretive dance, alternately munching the bread
and butter and chicken leg.


INT. APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP

Jeff's eyes drop from the ballet dancer's room to the
one underneath.


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - LONG SHOT

THE CAMERA PANS from the window of the dancing girl, to
the window below. Someone is reading the New York
Harald Tribune. The paper lowers, and we see an elderly
lady, in her late sixties. She is a faded, refined
type. She looks up in the direction of the music and in
a calm routine fashion adjusts the volume of her hearing
aid. She resumes her reading.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP

Jeff is amused by what he sees, but continues his
conversation with Gunnison, which has gone on through
all the scenes with the ballet dancer.

JEFF
(Insistent)
Where?
GUNNISON
(Filter)
Indo-China. Got a code tip from the
bureau chief this morning. The place
is about to go up in smoke.
 REAR WINDOW 9.


JEFF
(Pleased; excited)
Didn't I tell you! Didn't I tell you
it was the next place to watch?

GUNNISON
You did.

JEFF
(On filter)
Okay. When do I leave? Half-hour?
An hour?

GUNNISON
With that cast on - you don't.

JEFF
(On filter)
Stop sounding stuffy. I'll take
pictures from a jeep. From a water
buffalo if necessary.

GUNNISON
You're too valuable to the magazine
for us to play around with. I'll
send Morgan or Lambert.

JEFF
Swell. I get myself half-killed for
you - and you reward me by stealing
my assignments.

GUNNISON
I didn't ask you to stand in the
middle of that automobile race track.

JEFF
(A little angry)
You asked for something dramatically
different! You got it!

GUNNISON
(Quietly)
So did you. Goodbye, Jeff.

JEFF
(Won't let him hang up)
You've got to get me out of here!
Six weeks - sitting in a two-room
apartment with nothing to do but look
out the window at the neighbors!

At this moment we hear the sounds of a piano playing.
It is a simple, but broken, melody as if someone was
 REAR WINDOW 10.


just learning to play the piano, or carefully composing
a song. It clashes abruptly with the music from the
ballet dancer's apartment. It irritates Jeff as he
looks in the direction of the new music.

JEFF
It's worse than the Chinese water
torture.


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT

We now see the source of the piano music. It comes from
the apartment with the studio window which we saw
earlier where the man was shaving and listening to the
radio. The short, balding man sits at the piano playing
a few notes, then transferring them by pencil to
notepaper on the piano rack. He continues this process,
fighting the interference of the ballet music. The
opening bars of his melody are beautiful and ear-
catching. It is slow, hard work, and the ballet music
finally becomes such an interference that he gives up
and walks to the window to look down toward the dancer's
apartment.

He stands by a table at the window which is littered
with records, the morning coffee cup, unwashed, the
remains of breakfast, old newspapers, song sheets, etc.
He takes a cigarette out of his mouth, looks for an ash
tray, and ends up putting it out in the coffee cup. He
then returns to the piano and begins picking out the
melody the dancer is playing on her record player.

INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP

Jeff frowns at the double sound, and raises his voice a
little. He continues the conversation which has been
heard all through the previous scene.

GUNNISON
Read some good books.

JEFF
I've been taking pictures so long I
don't know how to read anymore.

GUNNISON
I'll send you some comic books.

JEFF
(Low, tense)
Listen - if you don't pull me out of
this swamp of boredom - I'll do
something drastic.
 REAR WINDOW 11.


GUNNISON
Like what?

JEFF
(On filter)
I'll - I'll get married. Then I'll
never be able to go anywhere.

GUNNISON
It's about time you got married -
before you turn into a lonesome and
bitter old man.

JEFF
Can you see me - rushing home to a
hot apartment every night to listen
to the automatic laundry, the
electric dishwasher, the garbage
disposal and a nagging wife.

GUNNISON
Jeff - wives don't nag anymore --
they discuss.

Jefferies glances out across to the other apartments as
he sees:


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT

We see a three-storied, flat-roofed apartment house.
The brick is weatherworn and faded. Each apartment has
three windows facing the back, one showing a hallway,
one a living room, and the window on the right opening
into a bedroom.

On the second floor, a man has entered the living room
from a hallway door. He carries a large aluminum sample
case common to salesmen. He sets down the case heavily,
removes his hat, and slowly wipes his brow with the back
of his right hand. He takes off his coat and tie. His
shirt is stained with sweat underneath. He rolls up his
sleeves, and his well-muscled arms heavy with hair
confirm his dark, husky build.

INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP

With his eyes still focused on the distant apartments,
Jeff continues talking with Gunnison.
 REAR WINDOW 12.


JEFF
Yeah? Maybe in the high rent
districts they discuss - but in my
neighborhood, they still nag.

GUNNISON
Well - you know best. Call you
later, Jeff.

JEFF
Next time, have some good news.

He hangs up and resumes his attention on the apartment
of the salesman.


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT

The salesman looks toward the bedroom door, hesitates,
then reluctantly walks toward it. For a moment he is
hidden by the wall.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP

Jeff shifts his look more to the right.


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT

The man enters the bedroom. We can see a woman lying on
the far bed. Near her, a small table is covered with
medicine bottles, spoons, boxes of pills, a water
pitcher and the other impedimenta of the chronically
ill. The woman sits up as the man enters. She takes a
wet cloth off her forehead. Before the man even reaches
her, she begins talking, somewhat vigorously. Pointing
to a wristwatch, she seems to be saying something such
as "You should have been home two hours ago! I could be
lying here dying for all you'd know - or care!" The man
stops short of the bed, makes gestures of trying to
placate her, but she goes on scolding. His attitude
changes to weary patience, then irritation, then anger.
He shouts back at her, turns and goes out of the room.

Back in the living room, he picks up his hat, throws it
against the wall in anger, and leaves the apartment,
slamming the door behind him.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - MEDIUM SHOT

Jeff's attention is suddenly diverted to himself. His
leg, under the cast, begins itching. He squirms, tries
 REAR WINDOW 13.


to move the leg a little. It gives no relief. He
scratches the outside of the cast, but the itch gets
worse. He reaches for a long, Chinese back-scratcher
lying on the windowsill. Carefully, and with
considerable ingenuity, he works it under the cast. He
scratches, and a look of sublime relief comes over his
face. Satisfied, he takes the scratcher out. As he
replaces it on the windowsill, his attention is drawn
back to the scene outside the window.


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT

We see the man who left his apartment in anger come out
of the doorway into the backyard. He is easy to
identify through the color of his garish necktie. In
one hand the man carries a small garden hoe and rake,
and in the other a pair of trimming shears. He goes to
a small patch of flowers, perhaps three feet square.
They are beautiful, multi-colored three foot high
zinnias. He kneels down, inspects them, touches them
affectionately and with some pride. His anger seems to
have left him, replaced by the kind of peace that
flowers bring many people. He stands up, carefully hoes
the ground, them rakes it. Then he snips a few leaves
off the lower parts of the plant. Finally, he waters
them.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP

Jeff's attention is turned to something else of interest.


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT

Into the next door yard we see emerging from the
apartment below the ballet dancer, the elderly lady.
She wear a broad sun hat, dark glasses, and a sunsuit
consisting of pink shorts and halter. She carries a
copy of the Herald Tribune, and still wears her hearing
aid. She settles into a folding, canvas deck chair.
Her skin is dead white, and her body is thin to the
point of emaciation. No sooner has she settled into her
chair, than she is attracted by the sound of the
salesman working in his garden. She gets up, walks to
the fence, and looks over. He notices her, but doesn't
speak. She begins gesturing to him how to take care of
his flowers. He listens for a moment, then looks
directly at her. The strong movements of his mouth show
us that he objects vigorously to the annoyance of her
comments. She moves away from the fence, started and a
little shocked.
 REAR WINDOW 14.

INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (DAY) - MEDIUM SHOT

Jeff is seated in the foreground, in a waist shot.
Behind him, the entrance door to his apartment opens.
STELLA McGAFFERY comes in. She is a husky, unhandsome,
dark-haired woman who is dressed like a district nurse,
with dark coat, dark felt hat, with a white uniform
showing underneath the coat. She carries a small black
bag.

Stella pauses on the landing to watch Jeff. He doesn't
appear to notice her entrance.

STELLA
(Loud)
The New York State sentence for a
peeping Tom is six months in the
workhouse!

He doesn't turn.

JEFF
Hello Stella.

As she comes down the stairs of the landing, holding on
the wrought iron railing with one hand:

STELLA
And there aren't any windows in the
workhouse.

She puts her bag down on a table. It is worn, and looks
as if it belongs more to a fighter than a nurse. She
takes off her hat coat, and hangs them on a chair.

STELLA
Years ago, they used to put out your
eyes with a hot poker. Is one of
those bikini bombshells you always
watch worth a hot poker?

He doesn't answer. She opens the bag, takes out some
medical supplies: a thermometer, a stop watch, a bottle
of rubbing oil, a can of powder, a towel. She talks as
she works.

STELLA
We've grown to be a race of peeping
Toms. What people should do is stand
outside their own houses and look in
once in a while.
 REAR WINDOW 15.


STELLA (cont'd)
(She looks up at him)
What do you think of that for
homespun philosophy?

A look at his face shows he doesn't think much of it.

JEFF
Readers' Digest, April, 1939.

STELLA
Well, I only quote from the best.

She takes the thermometer out of its case, shakes it
down. Looks at it. Satisfied, she walks to Jeff.

She swings the wheelchair around abruptly to face her.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (DAY) - MEDIUM SHOT

Jeff starts to protest.

JEFF
Now look, Stella --

She shoves the thermometer into his mouth.

STELLA
See it you can break a hundred.

As she leaves him holding the thermometer THE CAMERA
PULLS BACK as she crosses to a divan. She takes a sheet
from underneath, and covers the divan with it. Talking,
all the time.

STELLA
I shoulda been a Gypsy fortune
teller, instead of an insurance
company nurse. I got a nose for
trouble - can smell it ten miles away.
(Stops, looks at him)
You heard of the stock market crash
in '29?

Jeff nods a bored "yes."

STELLA
I predicted it.

JEFF
(Around thermometer)
How?
 REAR WINDOW 16.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (DAY) - SEMI-CLOSEUP

Stella stops for a moment, and looks at Jeff
challengingly.

STELLA
Simple. I was nursing a director of
General Motors. Kidney ailment they
said. Nerves, I said. Then I asked
myself - what's General Motors got to
be nervous about?
(Snaps her fingers)
Overproduction. Collapse, I
answered. When General Motors has to
go to the bathroom ten times a day -
the whole country's ready to let go.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (DAY) - CLOSEUP

A patient, suffering look comes over his face. He takes
out the thermometer.

JEFF
Stella - in economics, a kidney
ailment has no relationship to the
stock market. Absolutely none.

STELLA
It crashed, didn't it?

Jeff has no answer. Defeated, he puts the thermometer
back into his mouth.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (DAY) - CLOSEUP

Stella goes on with her work.

STELLA
I can smell trouble right in this
apartment. You broke your leg. You
look out the window. You see things
you shouldn't. Trouble. I can see
you now, in front of the judge,
flanked by lawyers in blue double-
breasted suits. You're pleading,
"Judge, it was only innocent fun. I
love my neighbors like a father." -
The Judge answers, "Congratulations.
You just gave birth to three years in
Dannemora."
 REAR WINDOW 17.


THE CAMERA PANS HER over to him. She takes out the
thermometer, looks at it.

JEFF
Right now I'd even welcome trouble.

STELLA
(Flatly)
You've got a hormone deficiency.

JEFF
How can you tell that from a
thermometer!

STELLA
Those sultry sun-worshipers you watch
haven't raised your temperature one
degree in four weeks.

She gets down the thermometer. Sterilizes it with a
piece of alcohol-soaked cotton in her other hand.

She gets behind the wheelchair the CAMERA PULLS back as
she pushes it over to the divan. She puts the
thermometer away in its case. Then she helps him off
with his pajama top. She helps him stand on one foot.
He hops one step, then she lowers him, face down, on the
divan. She gets a bottle of rubbing oil.

INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (DAY) - CLOSE SHOT

The CAMERA is very low at one end of the divan. Jeff's
head, half-buried in the sheet, is large in the fore-
ground. Beyond him Stella looms large and powerful-
looking.

JEFF
I think you're right. There is going
to be some trouble around here.

Stella takes a handful of oil, slaps it on his back. He
winces.

STELLA
I knew it!

JEFF
Don't you ever heat that stuff up.

STELLA
Gives your circulation something to
fight.
 REAR WINDOW 18.


STELLA (cont'd)
(Begins massaging his back)
What kind of trouble?

JEFF
Lisa Fremont.

STELLA
You must be kidding. A beautiful
young woman, and you a reasonably
healthy specimen of manhood.

JEFF
She expects me to marry her.

STELLA
That's normal.

JEFF
I don't want to.

STELLA
(Slaps cold oils on him)
That's abnormal.

JEFF
(Wincing)
I'm not ready for marriage.

STELLA
Nonsense. A man is always ready for
marriage - with the right girl. And
Lisa Fremont is the right girl for
any man with half a brain, who can
get one eye open.

JEFF
(Indifferent)
She's all right.

She hits him with some more cold oil. He winces again.

STELLA
Behind every ridiculous statement is
always hidden the true cause.
(Peers at him)
What is it? You have a fight?

JEFF
No.

STELLA
(After a pause)
Her father loading up the shotgun?
 REAR WINDOW 19.


JEFF
Stella!

STELLA
It's happened before, you know! Some
of the world's happiest marriage have
started 'under the gun' you might say.

JEFF
She's just not the girl for me.

STELLA
She's only perfect.

JEFF
Too perfect. Too beautiful, too
talented, too sophisticated, too
everything -- but what I want.

STELLA
(Cautiously)
Is what you want something you can
discuss?

Jeff gives an exasperated look.

JEFF
It's very simple. She belongs in
that rarefied atmosphere of Park
Avenue, expensive restaurants, and
literary cocktail parties.

STELLA
People with sense can belong wherever
they're put.

JEFF
Can you see her tramping around the
world with a camera bum who never has
more than a week's salary in the bank?
(Almost to himself)
If only she was ordinary.

Stella sprinkles powder on his back, spreads it around.
THE CAMERA PULLS BACK as she helps Jeff to a sitting
position. He buttons on his shirt.

STELLA
You're never going to marry?
 REAR WINDOW 20.


JEFF
Probably. But when I do, it'll be to
someone who thinks of life as more
than a new dress, a lobster dinner,
and the latest scandal. I need a
woman who'll go anywhere, do
anything, and love it.

THE CAMERA MOVES IN as she helps him into the wheel-
chair, listening to him with exaggerated attention. He
stops as he notice her attitude. Then he goes on with
less conviction:

JEFF
The only honest thing to do is call
it off. Let her look for somebody
else.

STELLA
I can just hear you now. "Get out of
here you perfect, wonderful woman!
You're too good for me!"

JEFF
(After pause)
That's the hard part.

She swings him around in front of the window. He starts
to look out.

STELLA
Look, Mr. Jefferies. I'm not
educated. I'm not even
sophisticated. But I can tell you
this - when a man and a woman see
each other, and like each other -
they should come together - wham like
two taxies on Broadway. Not sit
around studying each other like
specimens in at bottle.

JEFF
There's an intelligent way to
approach marriage.

STELLA
(Scoffing)
Intelligence! Nothing has caused the
human race more trouble. Modern
marriage!

Jeff swings his chair back to look at her.

JEFF
We've progressed emotionally in --
 REAR WINDOW 21.


STELLA
(Interrupting)
Baloney! Once it was see somebody,
get excited, get married -- Now, it's
read books, fence with four syllable
words, psychoanalyze each other until
you can't tell a petting party from
a civil service exam

JEFF
People have different emotional
levels that --

STELLA
(Interrupting again)
Ask for trouble and you get it. Why
there's a good boy in my neighborhood
who went with a nice girl across the
street for three years. Then he
refused to marry her. Why? - Because
she only Scored sixty-one on a Look
Magazine marriage quiz!

Jeff can't help smiling.

STELLA
When I married Myles, we were both
maladjusted misfits. We still are.
And we've loved every minute of it.

JEFF
That's fine, Stella. Now would you
make me a sandwich?

She relaxes.

STELLA
Okay -- but I'm going to spread some
common sense on the bread. Lisa
Fremont's loaded to her fingertips
with love for you. I'll give you two
words of advice. Marry her.

JEFF
(Smiles)
She pay you much?

Stella leaves for the kitchen in a huff. Jeff turns his
chair to the window.

INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (DAY) - SEMI-CLOSEUP

Jeff now looks out to see what has happened to the old
lady, and the man with the flowers.
 REAR WINDOW 22.


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - (DAY) - SEMI-LONG SHOT

The elderly lady is now asleep in her desk chair, her
face covered with the Herald Tribune. There is no sign
of the man with the flowers.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP

Jeff's eyes travel up to the ballet dancer's window.


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT

She is sitting near the window looking into an upright
mirror. Dreamily, and methodically, she is brushing her
long copper-colored hair.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP

His eyes are suddenly turned in another direction,
sharply to his left.


EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY - SEMI-LONG SHOT

He is now looking at the windows of the apartments
nearest to him. A shade has gone up, and a man,
obviously a caretaker is raising a window with some
effort. Having accomplished this, he turns back into
the room, and we now see him approach a young man and
woman who are standing just inside the doorway. He
hands a key to the young man, and then obligingly brings
in two suitcases which he places on the floor beside
them. He gives them a studied, but agreeable nod, then
departs. We now see that the girl has a small hat with
a veil, and an ornate corsage pinned to her light blue
tailored suit. The boy, who like the girl is perhaps
twenty years old, wears a dark blue serge suit and a
grey felt hat. He takes off the hat, and scales it over
to a nearby chair. Quickly they are in each other's
arms, kissing passionately, crushing the girl's corsage
and pushing her hat back a little. They part, the boy
laughs nervously, and takes a furtive glance out toward
the corridor. He looks back into the room, and beckons
her to come out. She follows him wonderingly. For a
moment, both are lost from sight. When they reappear,
he is carrying her in his arms, over the threshold. He
sets her down, closes the door, and they kiss again.
They part, still holding hands and looking into each
other's eyes. Then slowly, and significantly, she looks
toward the open window. He releases her hands, goes to
the window and pull down the shade, as she is reaching
upward with both hands to unpin her hat.
 REAR WINDOW 23.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP

There is a soft, understanding look on Jeff's face, and
he gives an involuntary sigh. He is unaware that Stella
is now standing behind him.

STELLA
(Quietly)
Window shopper

He freezes, turns slowly to look up at her.

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - NIGHT - SUNSET - LONG SHOT

The CAMERA makes a short sweep around the neighborhood
showing that some of the rooms are now with heir lights
on. The CAMERA PULLS BACK into Jeff's apartment until
his head fills the screen. He is asleep. A shadow of
some other person creeps over his face. His eyes start
to open. He looks up.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - SUNSET - CLOSEUP

The screen is filled with the eyes, nose and mouth of a
woman coming nearer and nearer to the CAMERA to kiss
Jeff. The face is more or less in shadow, a faint light
coming onto the profile from the window. It moves down
until the lips move out of her bottom of her screen, and
just the remain for fill the screen.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - SUNSET - CLOSEUP

The two big profiles filling the screen. The girl
kisses Jeff firmly, but not passionately. Then her head
moves back an inch or two. She speaks.

LISA
(Softly)
How's your leg?

JEFF
Mmmm - hurts a little.

LISA
And your stomach?

JEFF
Empty as a football.
 REAR WINDOW 24.


LISA
And you love life?

JEFF
Not too active.

LISA
Anything else bothering you?

JEFF
Uh-huh.

She gives a low. Warm laugh, and the CAMERA PULLS BACK
to show that Lisa has been bending over Jeff's
wheelchair from the side. As she straightens up, it
PANS her swiftly over to the corner of the room, keeping
her in big closeup. She turns on a low, hanging light.
We see her full facial beauty for the first time. It is
a warm, intelligent face.

LISA
(As she moves)
Reading from top to bottom -
(Light on)
Lisa --

The CAMERA FOLLOWS HER quickly to another lamp. She
gets a little farther away from us so that we now see
her down to her waist. She turns on the second lamp and
the light shows us that her beauty is not alone in her
face.

LISA
Carol -

The CAMERA PANS HER over to a third lamp which she turns
on. She is now full figure, beautifully groomed and
flawless. Her dress is high-style fashion and dramatic
evening wear.

LISA
Fremont.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - SUNSET - SEMI-CLOSEUP
Jeff looks across the room at her.

JEFF
The Lisa Fremont who never wears the
same dress twice?
 REAR WINDOW 25.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - SUNSET - SEMI-LONG SHOT

LISA
Only because it's expected of her.

She does a professional model's turn in the dress
showing off its features.

LISA
Right off the Paris plane. Think it
will sell?

INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (SUNSET) - SEMI-CLOSEUP

Jeff replies:

JEFF
Depends on the quote. Let's see --
there's the plane tickets over,
import duties, hidden taxes, profit
markups --

LISA
-- A steal at eleven hundred dollars.

JEFF
(A low whistle)
That dress should be listed on the
stock exchange.

LISA
We sell a dozen a day in this price
range.

JEFF
Who buys them? Tax collectors?


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (SUNSET) - MEDIUM SHOT

She laughs pleasantly.

LISA
Even if I had to pay, it would be
worth it - just for the occasion.

She looks down at the long mahongany table beside her
which is littered with a number of his personal effects.
Her own handbag is also on the table. As she talks her
eyes scan the table as if she's looking for something
specific.

JEFF
(Off - puzzled)
Something big going on somewhere?
 REAR WINDOW 26.


LISA
(Looking up from the table)
Going on right here. It's a big
night.

JEFF
(Off)
It's just a run-of-the-mill Monday.
The calendar's loaded with them.

Lisa finds what she has been looking for. Picks up an
old and cracked cigarette box, examines it as she talks.

LISA
It's opening night of the last
depressing week of L. B. Jefferies in
a cast.

JEFF
(Off)
Hasn't been any big demand for
tickets.

She turns to look at him, and moves toward him, carrying
the cigarette box.

LISA
(Smiling)
That's because I bought out the
house. -- This cigarette box has seen
better days.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (SUNSET) - MEDIUM SHOT

Lisa facing Jeff in the chair.

JEFF
Picked it up in Shangai - which has
also seen better days.

LISA
It's creaked - and you never use it.
And it's too ornate. I'm sending up
a plain, flat silver one - with just
your initials engraved.

JEFF
Now that's no way to spend your hard-
earned money!

LISA
I wanted to, Jeff
(A sudden intake of breath)
Oh!
 REAR WINDOW 27.


She turns around quickly and dashes to the door,
dropping the cigarette box on the table as she passes,
THE CAMERA PANNING with her. She goes up the two steps,
stops, turns back to Jeff.

LISA
What would you think of starting off
with dinner at the "21"?


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (SUNSET) - SEMI-CLOSEUP

JEFF
You have, perhaps, an ambulance
outside?


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - (SUNSET) - SEMI-LONG SHOT

She reaches for the doorknob, turns it:

LISA
(Simply)
Better than that. The "21."

She swings open the door and stands to one side. Framed
in the doorway is middle-aged waiter wearing a white
linen pea jacket with a red collar. He's carrying in
one hand a large portable warming oven, and in the other
hand an ice bucket containing a bottle of wine covered
with a napkin.


INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - SUNSET - CLOSEUP

His reaction is one of tender amusement.