11 EXT. TOP FLOOR 11
With the LAST TOLL of the CLOCK punctuating the CUT, we
are FLOATING IN TOWARDS the shattered board room window.
The woman's SCREAM on the street below is FAINT, ECHOING,
MIXING INTO the sound of an APPROACHING SIREN.

THROUGH the window we see the BOARD MEMBERS still
sitting around the table, paralyzed in attitudes of
horror and disbelief. All stare at the shattered window
in the f.g.

At the far end of the table, Hudsucker's chair is empty
and oddly askew. His cigar still smokes in its ashtray.
There are dust footprints down the middle of the long
oak table.

(CONTINUED)
 12.

11 CONTINUED: 11
One Executive sits with a pluming cigarette held half-
way to his mouth; another holds a carafe suspended on its
way to his water glass; another holds his spectacles
inches from his nose.
We hear only the HUM of the HUDSUCKER CLOCK.

SID MUSSBURGER ENTERS FRAME at the window. He is a tall
middle-aged executive with lean and rugged good looks and
a commanding presence.

He knocks a last piece of glass out of the sill with his
knuckle, looks out, grunts, and draws his head back in.
The CAMERA FOLLOWS him INTO the room. The other board
members' heads swivel to watch him, all staring,
searching desperately for some hint as to the fate of
their fallen leader. Apparently, some absurd hope still
lingers.
Mussburger perches on the board table by his own chair.
He reaches over to pluck the smoking cigar from the
suicide's ashtray.

MUSSBURGER
Pity to waste a whole Monte Cristo.
The other board members unfreeze, their worst fears
confirmed.
AN EXECUTIVE
He could've opened the window.
ELDERLY EXECUTIVE
Waring Hudsucker never did anything
the easy way.

ADDISON
My God, why?! Why did he do it?!
Things were going so well!

MUSSBURGER
What am I a headshrinker? Maybe the
man was unhappy.

ADDISON
He didn't look unhappy!
EXECUTIVE
Yeah, well, he didn't look rich.

(CONTINUED)
 13.

11 CONTINUED: (2) 11
ELDERY EXECUTIVE
Waring Hudsucker was never an easy
man to figure out.
(reminiscing)
He built this company with his
bare hands. Every step he took
was a step up. Except of course
this last one.
MUSSBURGER
Sure, sure, he was a swell guy,
but when the president, chairman
of the board and holder of
eighty-seven percent of the
company's stock drops forty-four
floors --

PRECISE EXECUTIVE
Forty-five --
ELDERY EXECUTIVE
Counting the mezzanine --
MUSSBURGER
-- Then the company has a problem.
Stillson, what exactly is the
disposition of Waring's stock?
STILLSON
Well, as you know, Hud left no
will and had no family. The
company bylaws are quite clear
in that event. His entire
portfolio will be converted to
common stock and will be sold
over the counter as of the first
of the fiscal year following his
demise.
MUSSBURGER
Meaning?

STILLSON
Meaning simply that Waring's stock,
and control of the company, will
be available to the public on
January first.
MUSSBURGER
You mean to tell me that any slob
in a smelly T-shirt will be able
to buy Hudsucker stock?
Stillson shrugs.

(CONTINUED)
 14.

11 CONTINUED: (3) 11
STILLSON
The company bylaws are quite
clear.
ADDISON
My God! You're animals! How can
you discuss his stock when the man
has just leapt forty-five floors --
PRECISE EXECUTIVE
Forty-four --

ELDERLY EXECUTIVE
-- Not counting the mezzanine.

MUSSBURGER
Quit showboating, Addison, the
man is gone. The question now
is whether we're going to let
John Q. Public waltz in and buy
87 percent of our company.
PIPE-SMOKING EXECUTIVE
What're you suggesting, Sidney?
Certainly we can't afford to buy
a controlling interest.
MUSSBURGER
Not while the stock is this strong.
How long before Hud's paper hits
the market?
STILLSON
January first.
AN EXECUTIVE
Thirty days.

ANOTHER EXECUTIVE
Four weeks.

ADDISON
A month at the most.
MUSSBURGER
One month to make the blue-chip
investment of the century look
like a round-trip ticket on the
Titanic.

AN EXECUTIVE
We play up the fact that Hud is
dead.
(CONTINUED)
 15.

11 CONTINUED: (4) 11
ALL
(in unison)
Long live the Hud!!
ANOTHER EXECUTIVE
We depress the stock --

YET ANOTHER EXECUTIVE
-- to the point where we can buy
fifty-percent.

PRECISE EXECUTIVE
Fifty-one.
ELDERLY EXECUTIVE
Not counting the mezzanine.

CAUTIOUS EXECUTIVE
It could work.
OPTIMISTIC EXECUTIVE
It should work.
PRACTICAL EXECUTIVE
It would work.
MUSSBURGER
(at ticker tape
machine)
It's working already. Waring
Hudsucker is abstract art on Madison
Avenue. All we need now is a new
president who will inspire real
panic in our stockholders.
ENTHUSIASTIC EXECUTIVE
Yeah, a puppet!

ANOTHER EXECUTIVE
A proxy!

YET ANOTHER EXECUTIVE
A pawn!
Mussburger strides across the room from the still
CHATTERING TICKER TAPE MACHINE and lowers himself into
Waring Hudsucker's chair. He takes a last puff from his
cigar and slowly exhales a cloud of smoke.
MUSSBURGER
Sure, sure. Some jerk we can
really push around.
CUT TO:
 16.

12 OMITTED 12
& &
13 13


14 SWINGING STEEL DOORS 14
that read, "MAILROOM." They burst open as Norville, who
wears a mail clerk's leather apron, imprinted: HUDSUCKER
MAILROOM/The Future is Now. The hellish mailroom is
criss-crossed by pipes that emit HISSING jets of STEAM.
As he wheels a piled-high mail cart down the aisle,
Norville is accompanied by an orientation AGENT who
bellows at him over the clamor and roar of many men
laboring in the bowels of a great corporation.

AGENT
You punch in at 8:30 every morning
except you punch in at 7:30
following a business holiday
unless it's a Monday and then
you punch in at eight o'clock!
You punch in at 7:45 whenever we
work extended day and you punch
out at the regular time unless
you've worked through lunch!
NORVILLE
What's exte--

AGENT
Punch in late and they dock ya!
People on either side bellow at Norville and stuff
envelopes and packages under his elbows, into his
pockets, under his chin, between his clenched teeth, etc.
FIRST SCREAMER
This goes to seven! Mr. Mutuszak!
Urgent!
AGENT
Incoming articles, get a voucher!
Outgoing articles, provide a
voucher! Move any article
without a voucher and they dock
ya!

SECOND SCREAMER
Take this up to the secretarial
pool on three! Right away! Don't
break it!

(CONTINUED)
 17.

14 CONTINUED: 14
AGENT
Letter size a green voucher!
Folder size a yellow voucher!
Parcel size a maroon voucher!
THIRD SCREAMER
This one's for Morgatross! Chop
chop!
AGENT
Wrong color voucher and they dock
ya! Six-seven-eight-seven-zero-
four-niner-alpha-slash-six! That
is your employee number! It will
not be repeated! Without your
employee number you cannot cash
your paycheck!
FOURTH SCREAMER
This goes up to twenty-seven! If
there's no one there bring it
down to eighteen! Have 'em sign
the waiver! DON'T COME BACK
DOWN HERE WITHOUT A SIGNED
WAIVER!!
AGENT
Inter-office mail is code 37!
INTRA-office mail is 37-dash-3!
Outside mail is 3-dash 37! Code
it wrong and they dock ya!
FIFTH SCREAMER
I was supposed to have this on
twenty-eight ten minutes ago!
Cover for me!

AGENT
This has been your orientation!
Is there anything you do not
understand? Is there anything
you understand only partially?
If you have not been fully-
oriented -- if there is something
you do not understand in all of
its particulars you must file a
complaint with personnel! File
a faulty complaint... and they
dock ya!

CUT TO:
 18.

15 NORVILLE 15
standing in front of a shelf of cubbyholes. As we FOLLOW
his hand drawing an 8 X 10 envelope across the line of
alphabetized mail slots. The envelope is addressed to
Max Kloppitt, Jr.
NORVILLE
(muttering to
himself)
... Bring it down to fif(?)...
fifteen... sign the voucher, uh,
waiver... cover for Mr. Anatole...
he's a swell guy... Morgatross...
He was on, uh...
He is COASTING ACROSS the "K" mail slots, finally COMES
TO Max Kloppitt, Sr. His hand moves to the next slot,
Max Kloppitt, Jr. This slot is half the size of all the
others. The envelope will not fit in.
He frowns.
He is about to fold the envelope, but notices something
stamped in red on its face. DO NOT FOLD.

Norville frowns. As he stares at the envelope, we see
envelopes swishing across the f.g., whipping one by one
in rapid succession, left to right.


CLOSEUP - ANCIENT SORTER
An old man sitting at the adjacent shelf, sorting mail.
Without ever even looking up, with a constant high-speed
back and forth flicking of his right hand, he is whisking
pieces of mail one by one out of the pile of mail in his
left hand.


ANCIENT SORTER'S SHELF
As his letters fly furiously but neatly into their mail
slots.

NORVILLE

He raises his voice over the mailroom din:
NORVILLE
Say, what do you do when the
envelope is too big for the slot?

The ANCIENT SORTER considers this as he continues
whisking his mail.

(CONTINUED)
 19.

15 CONTINUED: 15
ANCIENT SORTER
Well... if ya fold 'em, they
fire ya...
Whisk. Whisk. Whisk.

ANCIENT SORTER
... I usually throw 'em out.
Norville takes out a pencil and writes on the face of
the envelope:

INSERT - LETTER

Dear Mr. Kloppit,

Please give this letter to your son.
Thank you,
Norville Barnes.
After a moment he adds:
Your friend in the mailroom.


BACK TO SCENE
NORVILLE
(talking as he
writes)
Just got hired today!
ANCIENT SORTER
Terrific.

NORVILLE
Ya know, entry level!

ANCIENT SORTER
Tell me about it.
NORVILLE
I got big ideas, though!

ANCIENT SORTER
I'm sure you do.

NORVILLE
For instance, take a look at this
sweet baby...
(CONTINUED)
 20.

15 CONTINUED: (2) 15
Norville is taking an envelope from his pocket and
handing it to the Ancient Sorter.

NORVILLE
... you look like you can keep a
secret...

The Ancient Sorter is pulling a ragged piece of paper
from the envelope. On the paper is a crudely-drawn
circle.

NORVILLE
... Something I developed myself.
Yessir, this is my ticket upstairs.

The Ancient Sorter looks questioningly from the circle
to Norville.
NORVILLE
(explains)
... You know, for kids!
The Ancient Sorter nods with feigned understanding as
Norville takes the paper back.
ANCIENT SORTER
Terrific.
NORVILLE
So ya see, I won't be in the
mailroom long.


ANCIENT SORTER
(deadpan)
Nooo, I don't guess you will be.

He resumes his sorting.
NORVILLE
How long've you been down here?

ANCIENT SORTER
Forty-eight years...

Whisk. Whisk.

ANCIENT SORTER
... Next year they move me up to
parcels...

Whisk. Whisk. Whisk.
ANCIENT SORTER
... If I'm lucky.
(CONTINUED)
 21.

15 CONTINUED: (3) 15
A BELL CLANGS.

The PUBLIC ADDRESS SYSTEM SPUTTERS to life.
PUBLIC ADDRESS SYSTEM (V.O.)
Attention Hudsucker employees.
We regretfully announce that at
12:01 this afternoon, Hudsucker
time, Waring Hudsucker, Founder,
President, and Chairman of the
Board of Hudsucker Industries,
merged with the infinite. To mark
this occasion of corporate loss,
we ask that all employees observe
a moment of silent contemplation.

All HUBBUB ABRUPTLY STOPS and the sounds of HEAVY
MACHINERY, HISSING STEAM PIPES, and GENERATORS WIND DOWN
TO leave total SILENCE. After a moment:
PUBLIC ADDRESS SYSTEM (V.O.)
... Thank you for your kind
attention. This moment has been
duly-noted on your time cards and
will be deducted from your pay.
That is all.
The MACHINERY GROANS back INTO ACTION and the people
return to their jobs just as:
A STEAM WHISTLE SCREECHES.
ALARM BELLS go OFF.

From the PUBLIC ADDRESS SYSTEM:
PUBLIC ADDRESS SYSTEM (V.O.)
'Blue letter! Blue letter!'
The mail room is thrown into pandemonium.

VARIOUS VOICES
Blue letter...! It's a blue
letter...! They're bringing down
a blue letter!

One MAN spins to face the CAMERA, his hands pressed
over his ears. STEAM JETS and HISSES behind him.
MAN
Blue letter!!

Animated for the first time:
(CONTINUED)
 22.

15 CONTINUED: (4) 15
ANCIENT SORTER
Jumpin' Jehosephat, a blue letter!

Mail carts and other paraphernalia are abruptly swept
out of the crowded aisle to form a clear path running
down to an elevator in the b.g.

With a SIREN SOUND, a light above the elevator goes on.
The elevator door sweeps open. It reveals a wall into
which a four-foot high hinged door is set.

This door swings open and an old dwarf emerges: Old
man HUTCHINSON, the boss of the mailroom. He emerges
from the blinding light of the interior of the elevator.
He is holding aloft a letter.

He takes loping drawf strides down the aisle.


CLOSEUP - LETTER
TRACKING ON letter as Hutchinson bears it along. In
the b.g., the faces that the letter passes are agog.

CROSSCUT the approaching blue letter WITH: Norville
and the Ancient Sorter.


BACK TO SCENE
The Ancient Sorter is leaning over to whisper into
Norville's ear.
ANCIENT SORTER
It's a blue letter... top, top
level... confidential
communication between the brass...
usually bad news... they hate
blue letters upstairs... Hate 'em!
Norville gulps.

HUTCHINSON
You!

Norville looks over his shoulder, but the Ancient Sorter
has disappeared.
HUTCHINSON
... Yeah, you! Barnes!

As he points, the people around Norville shrink away.
(CONTINUED)
 23.

15 CONTINUED: (5) 15
HUTCHINSON
... You don't look busy! Think
you can handle a blue letter?
(laughs sadistically)
... This letter was sent down
this morning by the big guy
himself! 'At's right, Waring
Hudsucker! It's addressed to
Sid Mussburger! Hudsucker's
right-hand man! It's a blue
letter! That means you put it
right in Mussburger's hand. No
secretaries! No receptionists!
No colleagues! No excuses!

DRAMATIC TRACK IN ON Norville. As Hutchinson talks, he
thrusts the blue letter into Norville's face. Norville
looks at it with terrific apprehension. As Hutchinson's
speech ends, we are TIGHT ON Norville's sweating face.


COMPLEMENTARY TIGHT DUTCH ANGLE ON HUTCHINSON
We can see the veins in his eyes, the veins in his nose,
the hairs in his ears.
HUTCHINSON
Mussburger!!

CUT TO:

16 ELEVATOR DOORS 16

ROCKETING OPEN. We MOVE IN ON the young elevator operator
who leers INTO CAMERA. He wears a brass-buttoned uniform,
white gloves and a pillbox hat. The name BUZZ is stitched
onto his breast pocket.
As Norville enters the elevators:

BUZZ
Hiya, buddy! The name is Buzz,
I got the fuzz...

He lifts his pillbox hat to reveal a white crewcut, then
lets the elastic chin strap snap the cap back down onto
his head.
BUZZ
... I make the elevator do what
she duzz!
(CONTINUED)
 24.

16 CONTINUED: 16
He holds out his hand but as Norville reaches to shake
it he snaps it away and pats down his crewcut:

BUZZ
... Hang it up to dry.

He cackles and powers the ELEVATOR into GEAR. Norville's
knees buckle under a huge upward surge; Buzz is accustomed
to it.
BUZZ
... What's your pleasure, buddy?
NORVILLE
(regaining his
balance)
Forty-fourth floor, and it's
very --
BUZZ
Forty-four, the top brass floor
say, buddy! What takes fifty years
to get up to the top floor and
thirty seconds to get down?
NORVILLE
I --
BUZZ
Waring Hudsucker! Na-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Say, buddy!
With a powerful DOWN-SHIFTING SOUND, Buzz brakes the
elevator to a sharp halt. Norville continues upward
with the inertia, painfully smacking his head against a
corner of the elevator.

Buzz opens the door and a couple of people enter.
BUZZ
Mr. Kline, up to nine. Mrs. Dell,
personnel. Mr. Levin, thirty-seven.
MR. LEVIN
Thirty-six.

BUZZ
Walk down. Ladies and gentlemen,
step to the rear; here comes
gargantuan Mr. Grier.

An obese MAN enters, smoking a cigar:
(CONTINUED)
 25.

16 CONTINUED: (2) 16
FAT MAN
Buzz.

Buzz has already thrown the doors shut and sent the
elevator into its power-rise. Norville, bracing himself
now, sinks only a little under the G-force.

BUZZ
Say, buddy! Who's the most liquid
businessman on the street?

NORVILLE
Well, I --
BUZZ
Waring Hudsucker! Na-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Say, buddy! When is the sidewalk
fully dressed? When it's 'wearing'
Hudsucker! Na-ha-ha-ha!
He turns to look at Norville.
BUZZ
... Ya get it, buddy, it's a pun,
it's a knee-slapper, it's a play
on Jesus, Joseph and Mary, is that
a blue letter?!
All heads in the elevator turn, aghast, to look, and
those near Norville shrink away.
BUZZ
... Cripes a'mighty, whyn't ya
tell a guy?! Hold on, folks,
we're express to the top floor!
The ELEVATOR SCREAMS into overdrive and we:

CUT TO:

17 ELEVATOR DOORS 17
Sweeping open. Norville staggers out.

BUZZ
(hissing)
Good luck, buddy!
The door sweeps shut. Norville looks nervously around.

Behind him the elevator doors suddenly open again.
BUZZ
-- You'll need it!
(CONTINUED)
 26.

17 CONTINUED: 17
The elevator doors slam shut and we hear its ENGINES
SCREAM as it power-dives away.

Norville turns toward the executive offices.
Plush, thick-carpeted silence.

Norville starts walking.
A SCRAPING SOUND stands out in the high-powered executive
quiet. Norville looks to one side.

A workman in painter's overalls squats in front of a pair
of heavy oak doors. With a razor blade he is scraping
off the name "WARING HUDSUCKER."

NORVILLE
... Mr. Mussburger's office?
The scraper looks sullenly over his shoulder at Norville.
With a jerk of his thumb he indicates the direction.
Norville enters the adjacent office.


18 OUTER OFFICE 18
Two secretaries are in Mussburger's outer reception
office. The first is a filing secretary who stands
frozen in the f.g., her hand poised over an open drawer
to deposit a folder, as she stares at Norville with an
amused and supercilious sneer which stays pasted on
throughout.

The second secretary -- the RECEPTIONIST -- is seated
behind a desk in the b.g. that flanks the door to
Mussburger's private office. The Receptionist sits with
her hands clasped on the desk, staring at Norville with
the hunch-shouldered down-from-under look of a patient
vulture.

RECEPTIONIST
Do you have an appointment?
NORVILLE
Uhh, no, I --

The filing secretary sneers.
RECEPTIONIST
Shall we look in the book,
hmmmmmmmmm?
(CONTINUED)
 27.

18 CONTINUED: 18
She opens an enormous leather-bound book with yellowed
crinkly pages.

NORVILLE
No, ma'am, ya see, I wouldn't be
in the --

RECEPTIONIST
We don't seem to be in the boooook.
Norville is groping in his apron pocket.

NORVILLE
No, ma'am, ya see I don't have an --

RECEPTIONIST
If we had an appointment we'd be
in the booook.
NORVILLE
I know but ya see I have this --
here it is, this letter --
A low, unearthly WAIL fills the room, the sound of a
million souls moaning in purgatory.
The Receptionist looks up.


FAST TRACK IN ON SNEERING FILE SECRETARY
who is no longer sneering. Her mouth is stretched wide
as she wails and her finger points...


FAST TRACK IN ON BLUE LETTER

that Norville holds innocently at his side.

BACK TO TRACK IN ON WAILING SECRETARY

As her wail becomes deafening and we TRACK INTO her mouth
and the SCREEN GOES BLACK and:


19 CLICK. 19
The blackness and the wailing are both cut short by the
sound of a DOOR OPENING. We are:

INT. MUSSBURGER'S OFFICE
its door swinging open to admit Norville.
(CONTINUED)
 28.

19 CONTINUED: 19
In the b.g., in the outer office, we can see the filing
secretary leaning back motionless in a chair with a damp
rag draped across her forehead. The Receptionist is
fanning her with a towel.
The door closes behind Norville.

We hear a rhythmic CLICK-CLICK-CLICK and the HUM of
VENTILATION.

NORVILLE'S POV
Across miles of carpet is a huge executive desk, behind
which is a large executive chair facing the window. From
above the back of the chair cigar smoke wreathes up. A
telephone cord snakes around to the man sitting in the
chair, hidden from us. On the desktop is a perpetual-
motion machine of large swinging ball bearings. Click-
click-click.
A TICKERTAPE MACHINE occasionally BURPS information in
the far corner of the office.

A huge MECHANICAL ARM -- the sweep second hand of the
Hudsucker clock on the facade of the building -- RUMBLES
by immediately outside the window, describing an arc that
throws a moving shadow across the office.

His BACK TO us, into the phone:
MUSSBURGER
-- Sure sure, Parkinson's stupid
but he's ambitious, too hard to
control...
He swivels around to face Norville, who stands
deferentially at the door. Still listening at the phone,
Mussburger waves Norville forward.
MUSSBURGER
... No! Not McClanahan; sure he
bungled the Teleyard merger, but
that means he's got something to
prove...

He covers the mouth piece.
MUSSBURGER
... Who let you in?

NORVILLE
I --
(CONTINUED)
 29.

19 CONTINUED: (2) 19
Into the phone:

MUSSBURGER
Atwater? Tremendous. Except I
fired him last week --

The INTERCOM BUZZES fiercely.

VOICE (V.O.)
Mr. Bumstead is waiting downstairs.

Mussburger hits the intercom.
MUSSBURGER
Tell him I'll be right there...
(looks at Norville)
Well, what is it?
NORVILLE
I --
But Mussburger is listening to the TINNY VOICE issuing
from the PHONE.

MUSSBURGER
You, maybe you're the company's
biggest moron. We can't use
Morris, he's been with us too
long, he's a nice guy, too many
friends. Matter of fact, why
don't you fire him. No -- scratch
that; I'll fire him.
(looks up at
Norville)
... Make it fast, make it fast.
NORVILLE
You --
The INTERCOM SQUAWKS.

VOICE (V.O.)
Mr. Bumstead is getting very --
MUSSBURGER
I'll be right there. Give him a
magazine.
(to Norville)
... What're you, a mute?

The second PHONE on Mussburger's desk RINGS.

(CONTINUED)
 30.

19 CONTINUED: (3) 19
MUSSBURGER
... Yeah, how's the stock doing?
... Bad, huh? Well it's not bad
enough.
(into the first
phone)
... Look, chump, either you find
me a grade A ding-dong or you can
tender your key to the executive
washroom.
(into the second
phone)
And that goes double for you.
(into the first
phone)
Ear-clay?
(into both phones)
Ood-gay!
(slams down both
phones, looks at
Norville)
This better be good. I'm in a bad
mood.

Norville clears his throat.
NORVILLE
Well, sir. I've got something for
you from the mailroom, but first
if I could just take a minute or
so from your very busy time...
He reaches into his mailroom apron and hands a scrap of
paper across the desk to Mussburger, who stares, frozen,
at Norville, making no move to take the paper.
NORVILLE
... to show you a, uh...
Norville, undaunted, holds up the paper since Mussburger
will not take it. Mussburger doesn't even look at it;
his eyes are locked on Norville's. Mussburger smolders.
NORVILLE
... a little something I've been
working on for the last two or
three years...
Mussburger's burning eyes finally shift momentarily to
look at the crudely drawn circle; he looks back incredu-
lously at Norville.

(CONTINUED)
 31.

19 CONTINUED: (4) 19
NORVILLE
... You know, for kids! Which is
perfect for Hudsucker -- not that
I claim to be any great genius;
like they say, inspiration is
99 percent perspiration, and in my
case I'd say it's at least twice
that, but I gotta tell ya, Mr.
Mussburger, sir, this sweet baby --
MUSSBURGER
Wait a minute!
Sudden quiet.

With one last click the perpetual motion ball bearings
abruptly stop.
As Mussburger's eyes burn in on him, Norville stands mute
and paralyzed.
His eyes locked on Norville's, Mussburger circles the
desk. He stands toe-to-toe with Norville.

He thrusts his face into Norville's, whose head moves
reflexively back. Mussburger's nose is almost touching
Norville's, his eyes are burning, searching, studying,
evaluating.

Finally he draws his head back.
MUSSBURGER
Hmmm...

With one hand he thrusts his cigar into Norville's gaping
mouth. With his other hand he raises Norville's chin so
that his teech clench it.

MUSSBURGER
Umm-hmm...

He steps back, eyes still on Norville.
He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, indicating his
chair behind the desk.

MUSSBURGER
Siddown.
Norville, his lips puckered around the unaccustomed
ciger, looks bemusedly from the chair to Mussburger.

MUSSBURGER
... Go ahead. Try it on.

(CONTINUED)
 32.

19 CONTINUED: (5) 19
Norville obeys, reluctantly, stiffly.

MUSSBURGER
... Put your feet up.
Norville is again reluctant.

MUSSBURGER
... Go ahead.
Norville obeys. Mussburger studies.

MUSSBURGER
Hmmmm... Let's get to know one
another, shall we?

Norville's eyes squint against the cigar smoke wreathing
from between his teeth. Mussburger seems to relax.
MUSSBURGER
... Let's chat!
(beams)
... Man to man!

Norville beams.
MUSSBURGER
... You weren't blessed with
much...
He waves vaguely towards his head and searches for a
euphemism.
MUSSBURGER
... education, were you?
NORVILLE
Well, I'm a college graduate --
MUSSBURGER
All right, but you didn't excel in
your studies...?
NORVILLE
Well, I made the dean's list.

MUSSBURGER
(worried)
Hmmm.

Norville sputters out some more cigar smoke.

(CONTINUED)
 33.

19 CONTINUED: (6) 19
NORVILLE
At the Muncie College of Business
Administration.
MUSSBURGER
(relieved)
Sure, sure. And did your classmates
there call you 'jerk' or...
(searches again)
...'schmoe'?

Norville shakes his head.
MUSSBURGER
... 'Shnook'? 'Dope'?
'Dipstick'? 'Lamebrain'?

NORVILLE
No, sir.
MUSSBURGER
Not even behind your back?
NORVILLE
Sir! They voted me most likely to
succeed!
MUSSBURGER
(curtly)
You're fired.
NORVILLE
But, sir! --

MUSSBURGER
Get your feet off that desk.

As he struggles to comply:
NORVILLE
But --

MUSSBURGER
Get out of my sight.

Norville, squinting against the cigar smoke, pulls the
cigar out of his mouth as he doubles forward, feet still
up, groping for a place to set down the cigar. He sets
it blindly on a loose stack of papers.

MUSSBURGER
My God! The Bumstead contracts!!
(CONTINUED)
 34.

19 CONTINUED: (7) 19
NORVILLE
Oh my God, sir!

The top page radiates a circle of incipient flame from
the cigar's live end.

MUSSBURGER
You nitwit! I worked for three
years on this deal!
NORVILLE
Oh my God, sir!
Norville runs across the office to a large water cooler.

MUSSBURGER
I'll take care of it. Just get out!
Mussburger plucks the cigar off the contract and tosses
it into a wastebasket. He pats the fingertips of one
hand against his tongue and then efficiently pats out
the crinkling orange circle on the top sheet of the
contract.

At the other end of the office, Norville is wrapping his
arms around the glass water tank, which he pulls off its
base. He runs back across the vast expanse of office
toward the desk, hugging the water tank whose WATER
GLOOB-GLOOBS out its open bottom and splashes down onto
his pumping knees.
As he reaches the desk, the near-empty tank is now light
enough for him to hoist with one arm, which he does, and
cups his other hand under it to catch its last glub
of water. He tosses the TANK to the floor where --
CRASH -- it SHATTERS, and stands looking about for a
place to dump his handful of water.

MUSSBURGER
Why you nitwit. You almost
destroyed the most sensitive
deal of my career!
NORVILLE
Oh my God, sir!

He is reacting to the wastebasket on his side of the
desk, which Mussburger cannot see.
It is sprouting flame, at which Norville ineffectually
flecks his remaining drops of water.

MUSSBURGER
Now out of here! Out!

(CONTINUED)
 35.

19 CONTINUED: (8) 19
Norville is already running to the window, which he runs
both palms over, desperately seeking a way to open it.

MUSSBURGER
Not that way! Through the door!

NORVILLE
But, sir!
The windows do not open. Norville furiously stomps on
the flames in the wastebasket and -- his foot sticks.
Further stomping only makes the flaming wastebasket
roar up and down with his foot.
MUSSBURGER
Right away, buster! Out of my office!

Norville has dropped to the floor, trying to wrench
the flaming wastebasket off his leg.
MUSSBURGER
Up on your feet! We don't crawl at
Hudsucker Industries!

NORVILLE
Sir, my leg is on fire!
Norville finally succeeds in getting the flaming waste-
basket off his foot. Now the problem is what to do with
it.
MUSSBURGER
Get out of this office, you
dithering nincompoop!
Norville picks up the flaming trash receptacle.

NORVILLE
Oh my God, sir!
He winds up and throws it through the closed window.
The GLASS SHATTERS and the flaming basket plummets to
oblivion.
With the picture window broken a FEROCIOUS DRAFT ROARS
through the penthouse office.

CLOSE SHOT - BUMSTEAD CONTRACTS

On the desk. The pages are sucked away by the draft.

MUSSBURGER
My God! The Bumstead contracts!

(CONTINUED)
 36.

19 CONTINUED: (9) 19
NORVILLE
Oh my God, sir!

Mussburger lunges for the contracts as they are sucked
out the window.

He runs, jumps onto the sill, grabs -- his fist
clenches around one wafting page -- he is about to fall --
MUSSBURGER
Eeeeeeaaaahhhhh!

CUT TO:

20 INT. EXECUTIVE WAITING ROOM 20

BUMSTEAD, a short, fat, heavily perspiring executive, is
screaming at an O.S. secretary. He holds a pot of coffee
in one hand and a copy of Boy's Life in the other.
BUMSTEAD
No magazine. No coffee.
Mussburger! I wanna see
Mussburger! Or did he jump out
a window too?!
In the window behind him we see loose sheets of paper
fluttering down.
CUT TO:


21 NORVILLE 21
Desperately hanging onto Mussburger by his legs.

NORVILLE
Don't worry, Mr. Mussburger! I
gotcha. I gotcha by your pants!

Mussburger's screaming abruptly stops.

CLOSEUP - MUSSBURGER'S HORROR-STRICKEN FACE

REMEMBERING (the SCREEN GOES WATERY):

22 MUSSBURGER 22

is in a basement tailor shop. LUIGI, an old Italian
tailor, is just running his tape up Mussburger's inseam.
(CONTINUED)
 37.

22 CONTINUED: 22
LUIGI
Meester Moosaburger, I give-a you
pants a nice-a dooble stitch.
Make 'em strong, and they look-a
real sharp.

MUSSBURGER
(barking)
No! Single stitch is fine.
LUIGI
(begging)
But please-a, Meester Moosaburger,
the dooble stitch she last-a
forever --

MUSSBURGER
Why on earth would I need a double
stitch? To pad your bill? Single
stitch is fine!
CUT BACK TO:


21 CLOSEUP OF PANICKED MUSSBURGER 21
MUSSBURGER
Damn!

We hear a LOUD TEARING sound O.S. Mussburger drops a few
inches.
QUICK WIPE TO:


23 LUIGI AT HIS SEWING MACHINE 23

LUIGI
(musing to himself)
What the heck. Meester Moosaburger
such a nice-a guy, I give him
dooble steech-a anyway. Assa
some-a strong-a steech-a, you bet!

21 BACK TO MUSSBURGER'S PANTS 21

The tearing fabric abruptly catches and stops; the rest
of the pants hold intact.


MUSSBURGER
sighs with relief.

(CONTINUED)
 38.

21 CONTINUED: 21
He looks up.


NORVILLE
Norville's arms are wrapped around Mussburger's ankles;
the heels of Mussburger's shoes are digging into his
face.

MUSSBURGER

Looking. Thinking.

NORVILLE

Struggling to hold on.

MUSSBURGER
Calm. Contemplating.

MUSSBURGER
Hmmm...
He absently removes a cigar from his breast pocket and
sticks it in his mouth. He holds his lighter under the
cigar, not noticing that the flame is pointing the wrong
way.
He looks at Norville.


24 NORVILLE 24

His face drawn with effort, still struggling to hang on.
A PULL BACK FROM the EXTREME CLOSE SHOT REVEALS, however,
that Norville's arms are now wrapped around -- emptiness.
Mussburger's legs are gone.

Norville throws his head back and laughs, it seems,
insanely -- but CONTINUED PULL BACK REVEALS that Norville
is merely pantomiming the adventure for the benefit of
the board members, including Mussburger. They stand
around Mussburger's office, laughing gaily. All safe
now, no harm done. This inaugurates:

LAUGHING MONTAGE

Montage silent but for MUSIC.
(CONTINUED)
 39.

24 CONTINUED: 24
A) Norville is entertaining the board with his depiction
of the near-disaster. Mussburger is slapping him
merrily on the back.
B) CLOSE SHOT - BOARD MEMBER

Laughing.

C) Another board member. Laughing.
D) Mussburger. Laughing.

E) Norville laughing.
F) FREEZE FRAME ON Norville's laughing face.


25 ANGLE 25
PULL BACK to reveal that the frozen picture is the news-
paper photo on the front page of the Manhattan Argus.
Its headline reads: UNTRIED YOUTH TO HELM HUDSUCKER.
The subhead reads: Stockholders Wary. The sub-subhead
reads: Meteoric Rise From Mailroom.
The article is under the byline of Amy Archer.
CONTINUED PULL BACK REVEALS that we are looking at
the newspaper OVER someone's SHOULDER. The person
swivels around and away -- his face now TO us, we see
that it is Norville looking at the newspaper. He throws
his head back and laughs merrily.
As he laughs -- thwock -- a steaming towel is thrown
onto his face and he continues to swivel. CONTINUED
PULL BACK REVEALS that he is in a barber chair.

His head drops back and OUT OF FRAME as the swiveling
chair is cranked down, but immediately -- still
spinning --

-- his head reappears as the chair is cranked up again.
Still laughing, Norville is now freshly shaven and has
a slicked-back haircut, heavy with pomade.

FREEZE ON Norville's laughing face.

26 ANGLE 26

PULL BACK to reveal it is another front page photo next
to the headline: Hud Board To Street: GIVE MAN FROM
MUNCIE A CHANCE. Subhead: Has Fresh Ideas.
(CONTINUED)
 40.

26 CONTINUED: 26
CONTINUED PULL BACK REVEALS that the paper is lying on a
chair. Norville's mailroom apron is tossed onto the
chair to cover it.
PAN TO where the apron was tossed from. Norville stands
on a tailor's stage, laughing, as the tailor, also
laughing, takes his measurements. Norville in shirt-
sleeves, boxer shorts, hose stockings and garters.
The tailor rises, laughing merrily, throwing up his arms
and spreading them wide with hands stretching the
measuring tape.
Norville laughs merrily and also throws his arms up wide.


27 BOARD MEMBER 27
laughs merrily, his arms thrown wide, tickertape
stretching between his hands. He joyously tosses away
the tickertape.


28 FLOOR
where the tickertape lands on a pile of previously
discharged tape.
PAN UP to reveal that the tickertape continues to burp
its disastrous tale of good news for the board.
PAN UP FURTHER to reveal that the machine is in
Mussburger's office. At the far end of the room, behind
his desk, Mussburger laughs as he looks at a newspaper.
TRACK IN TOWARDS him.
On his desk the perpetual ballbearings swing; outside his
window the sweep second hand of the Hudsucker clock
rumbles by, sweeping a shadow across the floor. Evil
prevails.

As Mussburger opens the newspaper, the CONTINUED TRACK IN
shows its front page headline: HUD STOCK DIPS. Subhead:
Just Good Is He?

TRACK IN ON the front page photo: Norville laughing,
his chin propped in his hand.

29 PHOTOGRAPH 29

COMES TO LIFE and Norville unfreezes, laughing.
We are now TRACKING BACK FROM him. He sits behind a
huge oak desk, newly coiffed and tailored.
(CONTINUED)
 41.

29 CONTINUED: 29
The brass plaque on the desk confirms that he is in the
OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT.

TRACK BACK CONTINUES THROUGH the large elegant office,
leaving Norville looking quite small IN LONG SHOT.
His LAUGHTER ECHOES in the bright bare office.

Norville's laughter is just winding down, leaving him
exhausted, as if he has been laughing nonstop for
several days. He finally sighs and wipes a tear from
his eye.

FADE OUT.
FADE IN:

30 NEW YORK SKYLINE - DAY 30

In the skyline we can see the Hudsucker building topped
by the Hudsucker clock.
A cigar ENTERS FRAME in the f.g., then the face of the
man smoking it. Staring contemplatively at the Hudsucker
building, he takes a puff from the cigar and then plucks
it from his mouth and waves it, as if painting a headline.
EDITOR
'The Einstein of Enterprise.'
'The Edison of Industry.'
'The Billion-Dollar Cranium'...
'Idea Man'!
(exploding)
And not one of you mugs has given
me a story on him!!


REVERSE

shows the Editors glassed-in office filled with REPORTERS
for the staff meeting. Although they listen quietly,
they are more bored than attentive.

THROUGH the glass walls we can see the furious activity
of an army of reporters, editors, and copy boys waging the
never-ending battle to put out a quality daily newspaper.

The Editor slams a newspaper down onto his desk in
disgust.
EDITOR
Facts, figures, charts! They never
sold a newspaper! I read this
morning's edition of the Argus and
let me tell you something: I'd wrap
a fish in it!
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
 42.

30 CONTINUED: 30
EDITOR (CONT'D)
I'd use it as kindling! Hell,
I'd even train my poodle with it
if he wasn't a French poodle and
more partial to the pages of
Paree Soir! But I sure wouldn't
shell out a hard-earned nickel to
read the dadblamed thing!
REPORTER
Come on, chief, give us a break.

EDITOR
Suuuure, Tibbs, take a break! Go
to Florida! Lie in the sun! Wait
for a coconut to drop, file a
story on it -- it'll be more
of a grabber than your piece on
the commie grain surplus! The
human angle! That's what sells
papers! We need a front page
with heart and the whole idea of
the 'Idea Man' idea can put it
there!
REPORTER #2
Chief, if we had more access --
EDITOR
Yeah, and if a frog had wings he
wouldn't bump his ass a-hoppin'!
I don't want excuses, I want
results!

Whack! --
Without even looking in its direction, the Editor has
slammed down the lid of the cigar box on his desk, towards
which one Reporter's hand had been idly reaching.
The Reporter jerks his fingers away as the Editor spares
the briefest moment to glare at him.
EDITOR
I wanna know what makes the Idea
Man tick! Where is he from?
Where is he going? I wanna know
everything about this guy! Has he
got a girl? Has he got parents?

REPORTER #3
Everybody has parents.
(CONTINUED)
 43.

30 CONTINUED: (2) 30
EDITOR
All right, how many? How 'bout
it, Parkinson, you've been awful
quiet over there.
PARKINSON
Uhhh...

REPORTER NEXT TO HIM
Still waters run deep, chief.

EDITOR
The only thing that runs deep with
Parkinson is the holes in his ears.
Yes, the Idea Man! What're his
hopes and dreams, his desires and
aspirations? Does he think all
the time or does he set aside a
certain portion of the day? How
tall is he and what's his shoe
size? Where does he sleep and
what does he eat for breakfast?
Does he put jam on his toast or
doesn't he put jam on his toast,
and if not why not and since when?
He thrust his face into that of the Reporter.
EDITOR
... Well?!!
No answer.
EDITOR
... Ahh, you're useless. Yes,
Idea Man! Creator! Innovator!
Cerebrator! Tycoon! --

WOMAN (O.S.)
Fake.

EDITOR
Huhh!!

WOMAN

Star reporter AMY ARCHER -- attractive, smartly-dressed.
AMY
I tell ya the guy's a phony.

(CONTINUED)
 44.

30 CONTINUED: (3) 30
EDITOR
Phony, huh?

AMY
As a three-dollar bill.

EDITOR
Sez who?
AMY
Sez me! Amy Archer. Why is he
an Idea Man -- because Hudsucker
says he is? What're his ideas?
Why won't they let anyone
interview him?...

One Reporter is leaning into another to keep his voice
low:
REPORTER
Five bucks says she mentions her
Pulitzer.
OTHER REPORTER
Again? You're on.
AMY
(as she picks up the
morning paper)
... And just take a look at the
mug on this guy -- the jutting
eyebrows, the simian forehead, the
idiotic grin. Why he has a face
only a mother could love --
Whack! The Editor has slammed down the cigar box lid
again but:

Amy, smiling, raises a cigar INTO FRAME having beaten him.
She tosses it to the Reporter who failed to get one.

AMY
... On payday! The only story
here is how this guy made a monkey
out of you, Al.

EDITOR
Yeah, well, monkey or not I'm
still editor of this rag. Amy, I
thought you were doing that piece
on the F.B.I. -- J. Edgar Hoover:
When Will He Marry?
AMY
I filed it yesterday.
(CONTINUED)
 45.

30 CONTINUED: (4) 30
EDITOR
Well, do a follow-up: Hoover:
Hero or Mama's Boy? The rest of
you bums get up off your brains
and get me that Idea Man story!

REPORTERS
All right, chief... We'll do our
best, chief... I'll give it a
shot, chief...

AMY
(at the door)
Al, he's the bunk.

Slam!

One of the wagering Reporters grins at the other, who is
taking out a five dollar bill.
The door bursts open and Amy sticks her head in.
AMY
I'll stake my Pulitzer on it!
CUT TO:


31 ELEVATOR DOORS 31
Sweeping open to reveal the learing face of Buzz, the
elevator gnat.
BUZZ
Say, buddy! Where'd ya get the
new duds?

Norville is entering the elevator in his new executive
outfit.
BUZZ
... and say, buddy! How'd old
bucketbutt like his blue letter?
Na-ha-ha-ha-ha! Did he bust a
gut? Did he die? Did he -- Well,
hello, Mr. Mussburger, sir...

Buzz is instant decorum as Mussburger enters the
elevator.

BUZZ
... How're you this fine morning,
sir?
(CONTINUED)
 46.

31 CONTINUED: 31
Norville has been worriedly patting at his pockets since
the mention of the blue letter.

NORVILLE
That reminds me, Mr. Mu... uh,
Sid. I never did give you that --

MUSSBURGER
(to Buzz)
Lobby. We haven't got all day.

BUZZ
Right away, Mr. Mussburger sir.
As he talks, Mussburger pats at his suit pocket, takes
out a cigar, inspects it.

MUSSBURGER
Well I'm starved. I understand
it'll be quite an affair this
afternoon, and the executive roast
tom turkey at the Bohemian Grove
redefines the word superb.

He puts the cigar in his mouth and Buzz's hand is right
there with a lighter.
BUZZ
My pleasure, sir.
NORVILLE
Roast tom turkey. Gee, I'm hungry
too --

MUSSBURGER
Sure, sure...

The elevator doors open.
BUZZ
It's been a pleasure serving you,
Mr. Mussburger.
Buzz turns to Norville. He is puzzled but trying to hide
it:

BUZZ
... and it's been a pleasure
serving you too, uh... buddy.


32 MR. MUSSBURGER 32
is already striding through the lobby; Norville has to
lope to catch up.
(CONTINUED)
 47.

32 CONTINUED: 32
NORVILLE
Say, Mr. Muss -- uh, Sid! Shouldn't
we be a little bit concerned with
the downward spiral of our stock
these last few days? I mean, you're
the expert, but at the Muncie
College of Business Administration
they told us --
Mussburger gives an artificially hearty laugh and claps
Norville on the shoulder.

MUSSBURGER
Relax, Norville. It's only
natural in a period of transition
for the more nervous element to
run for cover.
NORVILLE
Okay, Sid. Like I said, you're
the expert, but --

33 EXT. SIDEWALK 33
Norville is still loping behind Mussburger, trying to
keep up with his long strides.
NORVILLE
... You don't happen to remember
the plan I outlined to you the day
I set fire to your off -- uh, the
day I was promoted?

MUSSBURGER
I do remember and I was impressed.
Anyway, that's all forgotten now.
Driver!
NORVILLE
Thank you, Sid, but the reason I
mention it is, it would require
such a small capital investment --
again, you're the expert here --

MUSSBURGER
Damnit, where's my car!
NORVILLE
-- But there's such an enormous
potential profit-wise given the
demographics -- baby boom --
discretionary income in the
burgeoning middle class --

(CONTINUED)
 48.

33 CONTINUED: 33
A black limousine pulls up to the curb.

MUSSBURGER
Finally.
NORVILLE
-- So if you think it's appropriate,
I'd like to bounce the idea off a
few people at lunch --
Mussburger is getting into the back seat --

MUSSBURGER
Sure, sure, tell whoever you
want...

And, to Norville's surprise, slamming the door shut
behind him.
MUSSBURGER
... And I'd like to hear more
about it at some point, too.
SCREEEECH -- the CAR pulls away. Norville is left talking
to himself on the empty sidewalk.
NORVILLE
But, Sid, I thought you and I
were...
DOORMAN
Say, bud, could you keep the
sidewalk clear here?

NORVILLE
But I'm the president of this --
aww, forget it.

CUT TO:

34 INT. COFFEE SHOP 34
A cheap coffee shop a half-flight down from the street.
We are LOOKING ACROSS an elbow of the coffee shop
counter. In the middle b.g., Norville sits dejectedly
stirring a cup of coffee.
Behind him, THROUGH the window wells, we see the back and
forth feet of pedestrians bustling by on the sidewalk.

In the extreme f.g. sit two steaming mugs of coffee.
They belong to two VETERANS of the coffee shop, who, from
O.S., narrate the scene.

(CONTINUED)
 49.

34 CONTINUED: 34
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
I got gas, Bennie.

VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
Yeah, tell me about it.

VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
No kiddin', Bennie. I got gas.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
Ya get the special?

VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
Fah from it...

He gives a low whistle under his breath as a woman enters
from the street and hesitates by the door, looking
around. Still attractive but looking somewhat down-at-
the-heels, it is Amy Archer.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
... Enter the dame.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
There's one in every story.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
Ten bucks says she's looking for a
handout.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
Twenty bucks says not here she
don't find one.

VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
She's looking for her mark.

The woman's eyes settle on Norville, and she heads for
the empty stool next to his.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
She finds him.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
She sits down.

The woman says something to the counter waitress, who
exits.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
... and awduhs a light lunch.

VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
She looks in her purse...

(CONTINUED)
 50.

34 CONTINUED: (2) 34
She is holding her wallet upside down.

VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
... No money.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
The mark notices.

Beat. Norville, however, is not noticing: He is staring
intently at his coffee spoon, his hat pushed back on his
head, his other hand propping up a cheekbone; the woman's
presence does not seem to have registered yet.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
... He's not noticing, Benny.

VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
Maybe he's wise.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
He don't look wise.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
Plan two: Here come the
waterworks.
The woman starts crying.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
Yellowstone.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
Old Faithful.

VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
Hello, Niagara.

VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
He notices.
As the woman cries, she accidentally-on-purpose jostles
Norville and he finally does indeed notice.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
He's concerned.

The woman mouths words at Norville who reacts sympatheti-
cally and waves his hands at the waitress.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
She explains her perdicament, and...

(CONTINUED)
 51.

34 CONTINUED: (3) 34
VETERAN #1 & #2 (O.S.)
(in unison)
... entuh the light lunch.
The waitress is entering to set a plate in front of the
woman.

The woman contines to talk to Norville, smiling wanly
at him.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
She's got other problems, of
course...
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
... Her mother needs an
operation...
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
... adenoids.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
No, Bennie: Lumbago.

Veteran #1's enunciation of "lumbago" falls into perfect
sync with the woman's moving lips.
Norville is listening sympathetically, but he suddenly
notices his watch.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
(alarmed)
She's losing him, Bennie.

Norville is rising to his feet.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
Maybe he's wise.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
He don't look wise.

As Norville turns to leave:
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
How does she pull this out?

She puts the back of her hand dramatically to her
forehead.

VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
(disbelieving)
She isn't!
(CONTINUED)
 52.

34 CONTINUED: (4) 34
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
(thrilled)
She is!
And indeed she does: Faint dead away, falling backwards
on the stool, so that Norville has no choice but to
catch her.

Norville holds her awkwardly, looking around for help.
VETERAN #1 (O.S.)
She's good, Bennie.
VETERAN #2 (O.S.)
She's damn good, Lou.

A WAITRESS enters extreme f.g. to BLOCK OUR VIEW of the
swooned woman and the embarrassed Norville. The Waitress
is FACING the CAMERA and the two O.S. Veterans; the
CROPPING gives us only her torso and the steaming pot
of coffee she holds.
WAITRESS
(bored, nasal voice)
Can I get you boys anything else?

REVERSE ANGLE

Back of the Waitress's torso in f.g.; on either side
beyond her, the two Veterans are looking up at her O.S.
face. They sport extremely bored expressions, topped by
"cabbie" caps.

VETERAN #1
Bromo.

Beat.
VETERAN #2
... Bromo.

35 INT. NORVILLE'S OFFICE 35

Looking at its frosted-glass door; the sign painter is
just finishing lettering in: NORVILLE BARNES, President.
The sign painter makes way as we see Norville's shadow
approaching; even from inside the room we can hear that
he is WHEEZING HEAVILY. He is apparently carrying the
girl, cradled in his arms. He tries to reach down to get
the doorknob; can't manage it; turns to press his back
against the door and get the knob with his other hand.

(CONTINUED)
 53.

35 CONTINUED: 35
The door opens as Norville swings around to enter. He
is wheezing like a gas pipe about to explode.

He swings around to kick the door shut. We see that the
lettering on the door is now terribly smudged; we also
see, in wet ink, on the seat of Norville's pants: senraB
ellivroN tnediserP.

Weakly, still cradled in Norville's arms:
AMY
I'm sorry we had to take the
stairs. It was just that horrible
little elevator boy...

NORVILLE
Not at all. You're light as a
feather.
AMY
(pointing languorously)
The couch, please.
Still wheezing horribly, Norville staggers over to the
couch and deposits her gently on it. He straightens up
and looks at her.


NORVILLE'S POV
She is smiling wanly AT the CAMERA. The entire IMAGE
PULSATES as the blood pounds behind Norville's eyeballs.
We hear the LOUD, RASPING of his BREATH, resonating
inside his head. Amy is talking but her voice is barely
audible, as if coming from a long way away.


BACK TO SCENE
NORVILLE
Just a minute.

He perches drunkenly on the edge of the couch and puts
his head between his knees, still fighting for breath.

AMY
I don't know what came over me. I
suppose it was the shock of eating
after so long without; the enzymes
kicking in after so long, or
whatever. But then you couldn't
possibly know what it is to be
tired and hungry...
Speaking into his knees as he wheezes:
(CONTINUED)
 54.

35 CONTINUED: (2) 35
NORVILLE
Hungry, anyway.

AMY
I don't want to bore you with
all the sordid details of my
life; it's not a happy story...

Norville rises and starts putting throw pillows behind
her head.

AMY
... Suffice it to say that I'm
jobless -- though not for want of
trying, that I'm friendless, with
no one to -- thank you -- take
care of me; and that had you not
come along at just exactly the
moment that you did --
She screams, staring down at the couch.
Norville jumps, startled, then looks where she is looking.

On the white sofa cushion where he had been sitting is
printed, in wet ink, right side around: NORVILLE BARNES,
President.
AMY
Norville, I didn't know you were
president here!
Norville stares dumbfounded at the sofa cushion. When
the nickel finally drops, he spins around to try to look
at the seat of his pants.
Distracted but still modest:

NORVILLE
Oh, it's nothing really. Just
determination and hard work...

He unbuckles his trousers.
NORVILLE
... Of course, when I started in
the mailroom last Tuesday I
thought it might take more time --
Buzz enters holding a brown paper bag.

BUZZ
Say, buddy, here's the whiskey
you asked f --
(CONTINUED)
 55.

35 CONTINUED: (3) 35
He freezes, taking in the scene: Amy reclining on the
couch; Norville standing in front of her with his pants
around his ankles, still breathing heavily; the bottle of
whiskey in his own hand.
NORVILLE
(flustered)
Thank you, Buzz, just leave it on
the desk.
Leering:

BUZZ
Happy days, buddy...

As he turns to leave:

BUZZ
... and I'll tell your secretary
you're not to be disturbed.
Yowzuh!!
He snaps the elastic strap under his chin.

After the doors shut behind Buzz:
AMY
(shuddering)
What a horrible little person.
NORVILLE
Oh, Buzz is pretty harmless,
really --

AMY
At any rate I arrived in town not
ten days ago, full of dreams and
aspirations, anxious to make my
way in the world --
Norville pours a glass of whiskey and brings it over to
her.
AMY
A little naive perhaps but -- thank
you -- armed with determination,
a solid work ethic, and an
indomitable belief in the future --
NORVILLE
I myself --

He crosses back to the desk.
(CONTINUED)
 56.

35 CONTINUED: (4) 35
AMY
Only to have that belief, that
unsullied optimism, dashed against
the marble and mortar of the
modern work place --

Norville takes a cigarette from a large wood cigarette
box on the desk and sticks it in his mouth.
NORVILLE
Cigarette?

AMY
No thank you. Seek and ye shall
find, work and ye shall prosper --
these were the watch words of my
education, the ethics of my
tender years --

OVER NORVILLE'S SHOULDER
He has been pushing the box towards her. The box tilts
lazily forward and then disappears over the far lip of
the desk. We hear the THUD of the BOX landing amid the
pitter-patter of cigarettes raining onto the carpet.
Amy's brow crinkles. Continuing:

AMY
-- these were the values that were
instilled in me while I was growing
up in a little town you've probably
never heard of --
NORVILLE
Mind if I join you?

He is pouring himself a drink.
AMY
Be my guest. A little town
you've probably --
He tosses back his drink, gags, looks at Amy with his
eyes bulging.

HIS POV

Once again her IMAGE PULSATES. There is a ROARING SOUND
and an AIRY STEAM WHISTLE as she silently moves her lips.
(CONTINUED)
 57.

35 CONTINUED: (5) 35
NORVILLE

He waves his arms and talks with a thick rasp as
he staggers to his feet.
NORVILLE
Excuse me -- I -- executive
washroom...
He staggers out a side door.

On his exit Amy leaps to her feet and scurries over to
his desk. At the top of her voice:
AMY
Are you all right?...

She throws open the top desk drawer. Inside two lonely
lead pencils roll through the otherwise empty drawer.
Amy expertly flips a cigarette into her mouth and strikes
a match off the desktop.
AMY
... Is it your lunch? The chicken
a la king?
From the washroom:

NORVILLE (O.S.)
No, I --
Amy throws open another drawer, empty except for an
appointment book. As she hurriedly flips through page
after blank page an arctic WIND WHISTLES emptiness. One
page only has a notation: 11:45. Address Wilkie Grammar
School Junior Achievers Club.

AMY
Is the a la king repeating on you?

Amy shoves the appointment book back into the drawer.
NORVILLE (O.S.)
... I'm fine, I... You were saying?

She mutters:
AMY
Values... watchwords... uh, tender
years...
(aloud)
-- A little town you've probably
never heard of...

(CONTINUED)
 58.

35 CONTINUED: (6) 35
She hastily stubs out her cigarette and waves her hand
to disperse the smoke.

AMY
... Muncie, Indiana.

She scurries back across the room as we hear the FAUCET
BEING TURNED OFF: she restrikes her languid pose on the
couch just as the washroom door opens.
Norville gapes, one hand pressing a dripping rag to his
forehead.
NORVILLE
You're from Muncie?!

AMY
Why yes, do you know it?
Norville starts making pumping motions with his fists
and loud syncopated grunting noises. Amy gapes at him.
He starts singing, off-key:

NORVILLE
'Fight on fight on dear old Muncie
Fight on -- Hoist the gold and blue
You'll be tattered, torn and hurtin'
Once 'The Munce' is done with you!'
Amy lamely fakes singing along, coming in louder on the
last, obvious rhyme. Norville jumps an octave on it;
she quickly follows sit, also pumping her fists.

As Norville crosses his hands and locks thumbs in
front of his nose to make bird wings of his extended
fingers:

NORVILLE
... Goooooooo Eagles!

Amy awkwardly imitates.
Norville excitedly sits behind his desk.

NORVILLE
... A Muncie girl! Talk about the
cat's pyjamas! Tell you what, Amy.
I'm gonna cancel the rest of my
appointments this afternoon and
get you a job here at the Hud.

AMY
Oh, no, really, I --

(CONTINUED)
 59.

35 CONTINUED: (7) 35
NORVILLE
Don't bother to thank me, it's the
easiest thing in the world. Matter
of fact, I know where a vacancy
just came up.

He hits the intercom.

NORVILLE
... Mail room.

To Amy:
NORVILLE
... This'll only take a moment.

INTERCOM (V.O.)
Yeah?
NORVILLE
Good afternoon to ya, this is
Norville Barnes --
INTERCOM (V.O.)
Barnes! Where the hell have you
been! And where's my voucher?!
Norville thumps at his pockets.

NORVILLE
... Well, I'm not sure where I --
INTERCOM (V.O.)
I need that voucher! I told you
a week ago it was important!
NORVILLE
But look, I'm president of the
company now and I --
INTERCOM (V.O.)
I don't care if you're president
of the company! I need that
voucher! Now!

CLICK. The intercom goes dead.

NORVILLE
Oh, of all the foolish... Listen,
do you take shorthand? Are you
familiar with the mimeograph
machine?
(CONTINUED)
 60.

35 CONTINUED: (8) 35
AMY
Of course -- I went to the Muncie,
uh, Secretarial Polytechnic!
Norville excitedly smacks a fist into a palm.

NORVILLE
-- A Muncie girl! Can you beat that!
AMY
Well, I just don't know how to
thank you, Mr. Barnes --
NORVILLE
Please! Norville!

As he reaches to shake:
NORVILLE
... It's my pleasure!
She reaches for his hand but Norville snatches it away
and, winking at her, hooks thumbs in front of his
nose and makes wings of his fingers.
NORVILLE
... Gooooooo Eagles!


36 AMY 36
likewise hooks her thumbs in front of her nose,
makes wings, and, winking back:

AMY
Gooooooooo Eagles!

But we PULL BACK to reveal that the girl is now in a
newspaper office, demonstrating the fight sign to
SMITTY, a reporter wearing a fedora with a bent-back
brim. Smitty howls with laughter.

SMITTY
(wheezing)
... Once 'The Munce'... Holy...

Amy sits down behind a typewriter and, as she starts
typing at 80 words per minute:
AMY
And is this guy from chumpsville?!
I pulled the old mother routine --
SMITTY
Adenoids?
(CONTINUED)
 61.

36 CONTINUED: 36
AMY
Lumbago.

Behind her an ancient man wearing an inksman's visor
and sleeve garters toils over a large checkerboarded
surface over which he shuffles letter blocks and black
spaces.

Smitty gives a low whistle.
SMITTY
That gag's got whiskers on it!
The PHONE RINGS and Smitty reaches for it.

AMY
I'm telling you, Smitty, the board
of Hudsucker is up to something --
SMITTY
(into phone)
Yeah.
ANCIENT PUZZLER
Say, Amy, what's a six-letter word
for an affliction of the hypothalmus?
Without a break in her typing:

AMY
-- And it's a cinch -- Goiter -- it's
a cinch this guy isn't in on it.
How much time to make the Late
Final?
Smitty holds the phone away from his ear.

SMITTY
Chief.
Still typing, Amy whistles and nods to her shoulder.
Smitty tucks the phone into it as she continues
typing.
AMY
Hiya, Chief, just the person I
wanted to apologize to...
Smitty is looking at his watch.

SMITTY
About seven minutes.
(CONTINUED)
 62.

36 CONTINUED: (2) 36
AMY
(still typing)
Yeah, I was all wet about your
idea man... Well, thanks for being
so generous... It is human, and
you are divine... No, he's no
faker. He's the 100% real McCoy
beware-of-imitations genuine
article: the guy is a real
moron --

To the Ancient Puzzler:
AMY
-- as in a five-letter word for
imbecile --

Back into phone:
AMY
-- as pure a specimen as I've ever
run across... Am I sure he's a
nitwit? Heck, if working at the
Argus doesn't make me an expert
then my name isn't Amy Archer and
I've never won the Pulitzer Prize...
Her eyes narrow.

AMY
... In 1957... My series on the
reunited triplets -- come on down
here, hammerhead, and I'll show it
to ya...
ANCIENT PUZZLER
Amy, what's a three-letter word
for a flightless bird?
AMY
Not now, Morris, I'm busy -- That's
right, I said hammerhead, as in a
ten-letter word for a smug bullying
self-important newspaperman --

To Morris:

AMY
-- Gnu --

Into phone:

AMY
-- who couldn't find --

(CONTINUED)
 63.

36 CONTINUED: (3) 36
To Morris:

AMY
-- That's G-N-U --
Into phone:

AMY
-- couldn't find the Empire State
Building with a compass, a road
map and a native guide.

To Morris:
AMY
-- or emu.

She slams down the phone. To Smitty:
AMY
... And that's just the potatoes,
Smitty, here comes the gravy: The
chump really likes me. A Muncie
girl!
Smitty bursts out laughing.
SMITTY
Better off falling for a
rattlesnake.
As she continues to type:
AMY
I'm tellin' ya, this guy's just
the patsy and I'm gonna find out
what for. There's a real story,
Smitty, some kind of plot, a set-
up, a cabal, a -- oh, and say, did
I tell ya?!

SMITTY
He didn't offer you money.
AMY
A sawbuck!

SMITTY
Ten dollars? Let's grab a
highball!

AMY
On Norville Barnes!
(CONTINUED)
 64.

36 CONTINUED: (4) 36
She rips the page out of the typewriter, swivels in
her chair to FACE CAMERA as we TRACK IN CLOSE and she
hollers:
AMY
... Copy!

DISSOLVE THROUGH TO:

A37 PRESSES A37

rolling, churning out great quantities of newsprint.
Papers piling up one on top of the other, very many, very
quickly.


B37 DELIVERY MAN B37
throwing a baled stack of papers off the back of his
truck.


C37 BALED PAPER C37
rolling into the f.g. A hand ENTERS FRAME to snip its
wires and wipe off the top paper.


D37 PAPER BOY D37
wearing an apron and a little paper boy cap, mouthing
"Extra! Extra!" as he holds one of the papers aloft.
PAN UP his arm TO the newspaper and, BEYOND it, the
towering Hudsucker Building.

All of the above --
DISSOLVING WITH:

E37 NEWSPAPER E37

spinning TOWARDS the CAMERA and STOPPING FULL FRAME.
Its headline, over a picture of Norville smiling,
is "IMBECILE HEADS HUDSUCKER." The subheadline: "Not
a Brain in his Head."


38 ANOTHER ANGLE - NEWSPAPER 38
is angrily slammed down to reveal that Norville has been
reading the inside.
(CONTINUED)
 65.

38 CONTINUED: 38
His face twisting with fury, he leans forward and hits
the intercom.

NORVILLE
Miss Smith, can you come in please
to take a letter...

Muttering to himself:
NORVILLE
... of all the cockamamie...

Amy is bustling in holding a steno pad and a pencil.
As she seats herself in front of his desk, he rises
to pace behind it.

NORVILLE
... Did you happen to see the front
page of today's Manhattan Argus?
AMY
Well, I... didn't bother to read
the article. I didn't think the
picture did you justice.
NORVILLE
The picture was fine! It's what
that knuckle-headed dame wrote
underneath! Of all the
irresponsible... Amy, take this
down: Dear Miss Archer. I call
you 'Miss' because you seem to
have 'missed' the boat completely
on this one! How on earth would
you know whether I'm an imbecile
when you don't even have the guts
to come in here and interview me
man to man! No, change 'guts' to
'courage.' No, make it 'common
decency.' These wild speculations
about my intelligence --

AMY
-- or lack thereof?

NORVILLE
(nodding)
-- these preposterous inventions,
would be better suited to the
pages of Amazing Tales Magazine.
(MORE)

(CONTINUED)
 66.

38 CONTINUED: (2) 38
NORVILLE (CONT'D)
If the editors of the Manhattan
Argus see fit to publish the
rantings of a disordered mind,
perhaps they will see fit to
publish this letter! But I doubt
it. I most seriously doubt it.
As I doubt also that you could
find a home at Amazing Tales, a
periodical which I have enjoyed
for many years. Yours sincerely,
et cetera.
He drifts into thought.

AMY
Is that all, Mr. Barnes?
NORVILLE
... Well, you know me, Amy, at
least better than that that
dame does. Do you think I'm an
imbecile?

AMY
I'm sure I --
NORVILLE
Go on, tell the truth; I trust you
and I put a lot of stock in your
opinion.
AMY
Well, I --
NORVILLE
Oh sure, you're biased -- you're a
fellow Muncian. But would an
imbecile come up with this?
He whips the cover sheet off a display pad resting on
an easel to reveal a large piece of graph paper with
a circle rendered onto it.
Amy looks, puzzled, from the circle to Norville's
proudly beaming face.

NORVILLE
... I designed it myself and this
is just the sweet baby that can
put Hudsucker right back on top.

(CONTINUED)
 67.

38 CONTINUED: (3) 38
Amy is bewildered. Norville explains:

NORVILLE
... You know! For kids!
AMY
... Why don't I just type this
up...
NORVILLE
Aww, naw, Amy, that won't be
necessary. I shouldn't send it;
she's just doing her job, I guess.
AMY
Well, I don't know; maybe she does
deserve it. Maybe she should've
come in to face you man to man.
NORVILLE
Well, she probably had a deadline...
AMY
Sure, but -- she could still have
gotten your side for the record!
NORVILLE
Well, it's done now -- what's the
use of grousing about it. Forget
the letter, Amy, I just had to
blow off some steam...
She gets up to leave, and is heading for the door when
Norville adds:
NORVILLE
... She's probably just a little
confused.
Amy turns at the door.

AMY
Confused?
NORVILLE
Yeah, you know, probably one of
these fast-talking career gals,
thinks she's one of the boys.
Probably is one of the boys, if
you know what I mean.

(CONTINUED)
 68.

38 CONTINUED: (4) 38
AMY
(through clenched
teeth)
I'm quite sure I don't know what
you mean.

NORVILLE
Yeah, you know. Suffers from one
of these complexes they have
nowadays. Seems pretty obvious,
doesn't it? She's probably very
unattractive and bitter about it.
AMY
Oh, is that it!

NORVILLE
Yeah, you know. Probably dresses
in men's clothing, swaps drinks
with the guys at the local watering
hole, and hobnobs with some smooth-
talking heel in the newsroom named
Biff or Smoocher or...

AMY
Smitty.
NORVILLE
Exactly. And I bet she's ugly.
Real ugly. Otherwise, why wouldn't
they print her picture next to her
byline?
AMY
Maybe she puts her work ahead of
her personal appearance.

NORVILLE
I bet that's exactly what she tells
herself! But you and I both know
she's just a dried-up bitter old
maid. Say, how about you and I
grab a little dinner and a show
after work? I was thinking maybe
The King and I --

Whap! Amy slaps him.
He stares.

NORVILLE
... How about Oklahoma?
As she stalks out of the office:

(CONTINUED)
 69.

38 CONTINUED: (5) 38
AMY
Norville Barnes, you don't know a
thing about that woman! You don't
know who she really is! And only
a numbskull thinks he knows things
about things he knows nothing
about!

He stares, rubbing his cheek.
NORVILLE
Say, what gives?

A39 WHISTLE A39

SHRIEKING.
SWISH PAN TO:


B39 CLOCK B39
Reading five o'clock.
SWISH PAN TO:


C39 WORKERS C39
Rising from their desks, collecting personal effects,
putting on their hats and coats.


D39 TIME CLOCK D39
Busy hands punch out.

40 INT. EMPTY HALLWAY 40

Of the executive floor. A security man walks down the
hall, whistling, swinging a ring of keys. After he
passes the door to the ladies' room it opens, Amy peeks
out, emerges, goes into Norville's office.


41 INT. NORVILLE'S OFFICE 41
She goes to the desk, takes out the appointment book,
flips through it.

(CONTINUED)
 70.

41 CONTINUED: 41
BOOK

Still empty except for the one date with the Wilkie
Grammer School Junior Achievers Club, which now has a red
line drawn across it with the notation CANCELED.


AMY
looks around the office -- notices something.


DOOR
Set into the wall to one side it is topped by a small
plaque: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Amy tries the knob, which turns, and enters.

42 INT. ROOM 42
It is big and dim, several stories high, with spiral
staircases reaching into, and catwalks criss-crossing,
the gloom above. It is filled with contraptions --
works, cogs, gears. There is no window, but on what
would be the window wall there is an enormous iron ring
with a metal rod sweeping an interior circle. It is the
backside of the great Hudsucker clock.
Amy gazes about. She crosses to a door opposite the
one she entered from.
She stoops to peek through its keyhole.


43 HER POV 43

We are LOOKING INTO Sidney J. Mussburger's office.
Mussburger sits at his desk barking into a Dictaphone.
CLICK-CLICK-CLICK -- the PERPETUAL MOTION BALLS on his
desk are going full-tilt; THRUMMMMMMM -- the CLOCK'S
exterior second hand sweeps a shadow across the office.
Mussburger, it seems, never sleeps.

MUSSBURGER
Memo. From the desk of Sidney J.
Mussburger. Executive order
number 530 slash A49. To:
Director of the Jacksonville
Facility. Copies to: Legal
Affairs, Business Affairs, Central
Files.
(MORE)

(CONTINUED)
 71.

43 CONTINUED: 43
MUSSBURGER (CONT'D)
Re: Movement of Raw Materials
from the Huron Facility. Due to
unfavorable news in the slag
markets, Jacksonville inventory
must be reduced by 15 percent
with overflow diverted to the
Waukegan Stamping Facility. Memo.
From the desk of Sidney J.
Mussburger. Executive Order
number 530 slash A50. To:
Director of --

42 BACK TO SCENE 42

VOICE (O.S.)
Watchoo doin' down they, Miss
Archuh?
AMY
Huh?!
She straightens and turns.
Facing her is a very old BLACK MAN in a janitor's
jumpsuit with HUDSUCKER INDUSTRIES/The Future Is Now
emblazoned across it. We might recognize his voice as
that of the narrator who opened the movie.
AMY
Who are you? How did you know who
I am?

MOSES (BLACK MAN)
Ah guess ole Moses knows jes about
ever'thing, leastways if it concerns
Hudsuckuh.
AMY
But -- who are you -- what d'you
do here?
MOSES
Ah keeps the ol' circle turning --
this ol' clock needs plenty o'
care. Time is money, Miss Archuh,
and money -- it drives that ol'
global economy and keeps big Daddy
Earth a-spinnin' on 'roun'. Ya
see, without that capital
fo'mation --
(CONTINUED)
 72.

42 CONTINUED: 42
AMY
Yeah, yeah. Say, you won't tell
anyone about me, will you?
MOSES
I don't tell no one nothin'
lessen they ask. Thatches ain't
ole Moses' way.
AMY
So if you know everything about
Hudsucker, tell me why the Board
decided to make Norville Barnes
president.

MOSES
Well, that even surprised ole
Moses at fust. I didn't think
the Board was that smart.
AMY
That smart?!
MOSES
But then I figured it out: they
did it 'cause they figured young
Norville for an imbecile. Like
some othuh people ah know.

AMY
Why on earth would they want a
nitwit to be president?
MOSES
'Cause they's little pigglies!
They's tryin' to inspire panic,
make that stock git cheap so's
they can snitch it all up fo'
themselves! But Norville, he's
got some tricks up his sleeve,
he does...

He draws a circle with his finger in the air.
MOSES
... you know, fo' kids? Yeah,
he's a smart one, that Norville,
heh-heh, he's a caution. Wal,
some folks is square, an' some
is hip --

To punctuate, he gives a little jerk of his hips.
(CONTINUED)
 73.

42 CONTINUED: (2) 42
MOSES
... But I guess you don't really
know him any better than that
board does, do ya, Miss Archuh?
AMY
Well, maybe I --

MOSES
An' only some kind a knucklehead
thinks she knows things 'bout
things she, uh -- when she
don't, uh -- How'd that go?
AMY
(bristling)
It's hardly the same --
MOSES
Why you don't even know y'own
self -- you ain't exactly the
genuine article are you, Miss
Archuh?

AMY
Well, in connection with my job,
sometimes I have to go undercover
as it were --

MOSES
I don't mean that! Why you
pretendin' to be such a hard ol'
sourpuss! Ain't never gonna make
you happy! Never made Warin'
happy.
AMY
(uncomfortably)
I'm happy enough.
MOSES
(chuckles)
Okay, Miss Archuh.
(turns and walks
away)
... I got gears to see to.

AMY
(calls after him)
I'm plenty happy!

She is answered only by WHIRRING MACHINERY.
(CONTINUED)
 74.

42 CONTINUED: (3) 42
MOSES

Elsewhere in the great room, he is hunkered down next
to a catchment which he buffs with a greasy rag. Amy's
VOICE ECHOES UP:

AMY (O.S.)
... Hello?
MOSES
(muttering to
himself)
Them po' young folks. Looks like
Norville's in fo' the same kind
o' heartache ol' Warin' had. But
then, she never axed me 'bout
dat...
As OMINOUS MUSIC SWELLS, we --
FADE OUT.


FADE IN:

44 INT. CHIEF'S OFFICE 44
He slams down a typescript.

CHIEF
I can't print this!
AMY
Why not, it's all true! The board
is using this poor guy! They're
depressing the stock so they can
buy it cheap!

CHIEF
It's pure speculation! Why,
they'd have my butt in a satchel!

SMITTY
(chuckling)
Ol' satchel-butt...

AMY
I know they're gonna buy that
stock --

(CONTINUED)
 75.

44 CONTINUED: 44
CHIEF
You don't know anything! Fact is
they haven't bought it! The
stock is cheap, Archer! What're
they waiting for?

AMY
I don't know...
SMITTY
Amy's hunches are usually pretty
good, Chief.
CHIEF
You don't accuse someone of stock
manipulation on a hunch, Ignatz!
The readers of the Manhattan
Argus aren't interested in
sensationalism, gossip and
unsupported speculation. Facts,
figures -- those are the tools of
the newspaper trade! Why it's
almost as if you're trying to
take the heat off this Barnes
numbskull -- like you've gone all
soft on him!
SMITTY
Come on, Chief, that's a low blow.
Archer's not gonna go goey for a
corn-fed idiot.
CHIEF
All right, I was out of line. But
you're out of line with this stock
swindle story. Gimme some more of
that Moron-from-Sheboygan stuff --

AMY
Muncie.

CHIEF
Whatever. That's what sells
newspapers.

AMY
I've got an even hotter story --
the Sap from the City Desk.
CHIEF
Watch it, Archer --

AMY
It's about a dimwitted editor
who --
(CONTINUED)
 76.

44 CONTINUED: (2) 44
SMITTY
Easy, Amy...

He gives her a companionable goose.
SMITTY
... Let's grab a highball and
calm down.
She whirls and slaps him.

AMY
Back off -- smoocher!
Smitty rubs his cheek, staring as she storms off.

SMITTY
(angry)
Say, what gives?


45 ENGRAVED INVITATION 45
It reads:
Sidney J. Mussburger
President Norville Barnes
and
The Board of Hudsucker Industries
CORDIALLY INVITE YOU TO
The Annual Fancy-Dress Hudsucker Christmas Gala
Music, Dancing, Refreshments (Dainties)
Formal Evening Attire de Rigeuer

The MUSIC OVER the invitation -- "WE WISH YOU A MERRY
CHRISTMAS" -- SEGUES INTO the dance music of the Hudsucker
Chamber Orchestra.

46 DANCING COUPLES 46

FILL the SCREEN; we GLIDE AMONG them and FINALLY COME to
follow one couple: Norville and MRS. MUSSBURGER, a large
middle-aged woman of the Margaret Dumont-mold in an
elaborately flowered and old-fashioned evening gown,
low-cut in spite of her overly-heavy figure. She wears
a large flowered hat with a rolled-up veil.
MRS. MUSSBURGER
-- So we'd gone out to the
Hamptons and the garden was in
positive ruins!
(CONTINUED)
 77.

46 CONTINUED: 46
NORVILLE
That must have been quite a
disappointment, Mrs. Mussburger.
MRS. MUSSBURGER
Disappointment? J'etais destroyee!
I was in bed for a week!
Positively sick with fury! I
called in the gardener and said,
'Monsieur Gonzalez, either those
azaleas come up next spring or
you are terminee!
She throws her head back and roars with laughter.


ANGLE - THEIR FEET
As the large woman leans back to laugh, her feet stay
planted on the ground and Norville's rise to be dragged
with his toes scraping the floor through the continuing
dance.
MRS. MUSSBURGER
I'm brushing up on my French with
the most charming man, Pierre of
Fifth Avenue. Do you know him?
NORVILLE
I haven't had --
MRS. MUSSBURGER
Sidney and I are planning a trip
to Paris and points continental --
Aren't we, dear?
Mussburger has ENTERED FRAME.

MUSSBURGER
Sure, sure. I'm going to borrow
Norville for a while, if you don't
mind, dear.
MIXING DOWN as they leave her:

MRS. MUSSBURGER
Well, frankly, I...
NORVILLE
You have a charming wife, Mr.
Muss -- uh, Sid.

(CONTINUED)
 78.

46 CONTINUED: (2) 46
MUSSBURGER
So they tell me. Norville, let
me shepherd you through some of
the introductions here. Try not
to talk too much; some of our
biggest stockholders are, uh --
scratch that: Say whatever you
want.

ENTRYWAY

As Amy enters in a simple yet stunning evening gown. She
looks around the room, then starts across the crowded
floor towards the punch bowl.


NORVILLE
As Mussburger introduces him to a tall, imposing
BUSINESSMAN in a tuxedo and a ten-gallon hat.
MUSSBURGER
Norville Barnes, allow me to
introduce Mr. Zebulon Cardozo, one
of Hudsucker Industries largest
and most loyal stockholders.
Ignoring Norville's proffered hand:
CARDOZO (BUSINESSMAN)
Dammit boy, what's this I hear
about you bein' an embecile? What
the hell is ailin' ya?! A week
ago my stock was worth twice what
it is now! I'm considering
dumping the whole shootin' match,
unless I see some vast improvement!
Dammit, boy, It's a range war!
Either you pull our wagons into
a circle or I'm pullin' out of
the wagon train!
Norville gives him a forced but hearty laugh of
reassurance.

NORVILLE
No need for concern, sir; it's only
natural in a period of transition
for the more timid element to run
for cover --

CARDOZO
So I'm yella, am I?!!

(CONTINUED)
 79.

46 CONTINUED: (3) 46
He starts peeling off his tuxedo jacket:

CARDOZO
... We'll see who's yella!!
His WIFE, a small wiry woman, steps in as Mussburger
starts dragging Norville away.

MRS. CARDOZO
Zebulon, you mind now and quit
bein' sech an ole grizzly.

As he reluctantly starts shrugging back into the jacket:
CARDOZO
Aww, I wasn't gonna hurt the boy,
Lorelei...


MUSSBURGER AND NORVILLE
As they make their way through the room Norville is
mopping at his brow with a handkerchief.

NORVILLE
I'm sorry, Sid, I thought maybe if
I showed him the long view we
might --

Thump! Dabbing at his brow, Norville has walked square
into the back of a debonaire man holding a martini.
The drink sloshes and the man turns testily to face him.
MUSSBURGER
Norville, this is Thorstensen
Finlandsen, who heads a radical
splinter group of disgruntled
investors.
Norville nervously pumps Findlandsen's hand.

NORVILLE
Hello, Mr. Finlandsen, so sorry to
meet you -- uh, happy to walk
into y-- uh, pleased to make
your --

Findlandsen raises his hand to look quizzically at
Norville's handkerchief which he now holds himself,
apparently having been given it during the handshake.

He hands it back to Norville.
(CONTINUED)
 80.

46 CONTINUED: (4) 46
NORVILLE
Thank you, sir...

He stuffs it nervously into his outside breast pocket as
Findlandsen stares at him. Mussburger stands watching
in the executive at-ease, hands dug into his pockets.

NORVILLE
... I understand your concern
about the down-ward, you know,
but I think you'll find under
our strong new leadership...
As Norville's hand drops from his breast pocket the
handkerchief, perhaps caught on his sleeve, whips out of
the pocket and follows his hand down.

Findlandsen looks down and Norville follows his look,
and stoops BELOW FRAME to retrieve the hanky.
Findlandsen leans quizzically forward and peers down at
Norville, who continues, O.S.
NORVILLE (O.S.)
We anticipate, in short order,
an upward...
In rapid fire, Norville straightens up into -- crunch --
Findlandsen, whose head snaps back, eyes rolling, a hand
pressed to his nose, drink sloshing; Norville, one hand
pressed to the back of his own head and the other wildly
waving his hanky for balance, takes a staggering step
forward onto the toe of an elegantly-gowned
MRS. FINDLANDSEN.
MRS. FINDLANDSEN
Ahhh!

There is a drum roll and, as the lights dim:

EMCEE
grabs the large old-fashioned microphone in front of
the band and grins.

EMCEE
Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished
members of the Hudsucker board. I
give you the king of swing, the
rajah of romance, the incredible,
the unforgettable Mister Vic...
Tenetta!
(CONTINUED)
 81.

46 CONTINUED: (5) 46
Vic Tenetta takes the microphone from the Emcee who backs
away, applauding as Tenetta starts to croon. He wears
a white dinner jacket. His jet black hair sweeps out
over his forehead in a roguishly pompadoured mat; one
forelock droops and bounces across his forehead.

CUT TO:

47 SEVERAL BOARD MEMBERS 47

Clustered in a dim corner of the room, smoking cigars.
In the b.g., brilliantly spotlit, Vic Tenetta continues
his song.

As Mussburger joins them:

EXECUTIVE #1
How's it going, Mr. Mussburger?
MUSSBURGER
Bad.
EXECUTIVE #2
Good.
MUSSBURGER
But not bad enough.

EXECUTIVE #3
Too bad.
MUSSBURGER
It could be better, it could be
worse.
ALL THREE EXECUTIVES
Hmmmmmm.
MUSSBURGER
The stock's got to drop another
five points if we expect to get
controlling interest. Norville
tells me he's got some hot idea.
Can't be good.

EXECUTIVE #1
Then it can't be bad!
EXECUTIVE #2
Couldn't be better if it couldn't
be worse.
ALL
Hmmmmmm.
 82.