Now the sound of a mandolin and MORRIS's voice raised in song. He is not Caruso. EMMA shakes her head.
Worse and worse.
WILLIE
(making a double jump)
He only sings when he feels good.
MORRIS is singing louder now.
EMMA
(she sighs)
Better he should be a little sadder....
As the singing goes on--
CUT TO
More music--equally lacking in calibre--WILLIE is in his room, practicing his harmonica. He lies on his bed, eyes closed, doing his best. The room is small, dominated by posters of sports heroes: Reggie Jackson, Bjorn Borg. Another week or so has gone by--WILLIE's hair is that much longer. It's late afternoon.
BIMBAUM
(appearing in the open doorway, a towel in one hand)
Why do you make that sound?
WILLIE
(quickly stopping)
I'm sorry--
BIMBAUM
--answer.
WILLIE
I thought maybe I might want to be a musician, so I asked could we have a piano? My father bought me this instead--
(holds up harmonica)
--he said if I got good on this then he'd get me a small guitar, and if I got good on that, then he might get a piano.
(dubiously looking at the instrument)
I don't see a piano in my future.
BIMBAUM
Play me your best tune.
CUT TO
WILLIE. He hesitates, then starts "Shenandoah"--"Oh Shenandoah, I long to see you, away, you rolling river..."
CUT TO
MR. BIMBAUM, watching, listening.
WILLIE
(breaks off)
Not so good, huh?
BIMBAUM
Not so good? Terrible.
WILLIE
(stung)
You said to do it.
(he puts the harmonica on the bed)
BIMBAUM
Don't be such a sensitive. Everyone was terrible once. At the start, we all stink.
(he looks at Willie a moment)
Even I wasn't always great.
(he moves out of sight down the hall)
CUT TO
WILLIE. He thinks a minute, shuts the door, tries "Shenandoah" again. Not so hot. But he goes gamely on as we CUT TO
THE KITCHEN, a few nights later. Roast and dumplings simmering on the stove. WILLIE and his MOTHER stand guard. There is a sound behind them and as they turn--
CUT TO
BIMBAUM. He hurries through the kitchen and disappears up the back stairs. Not so much as a nod.
CUT TO
EMMA. She looks at WILLIE, is about to speak, thinks better of it, turns her attention back to her cooking. Silence. Then the slamming of the front door. Hard. A pause. Then the heavy sound of trudging footsteps. Coming closer and closer and CUT TO
MORRIS. He stands in the kitchen door with the look of a stricken samurai warrior on his face. After a moment he goes into the living room, sinks heavily onto a sofa.
CUT TO
EMMA AND WILLIE in the kitchen.
EMMA
(calling out)
No songs.
No answer.
WILLIE
What is it?
EMMA
Something bad.
(and with that she leaves her post by the stove, hurries into the living room)
CUT TO
WILLIE. He stands there alone a moment. He moves the dumplings around. Then he stops, walks to where he has a view of the living room.
CUT TO
THE LIVING ROOM. EMMA is kneeling by MORRIS and they whisper to each other.
CUT TO
WILLIE, riveted.
CUT TO
MORRIS AND EMMA. They whisper a moment more, then she rises, moves back toward the kitchen.
CUT TO
WILLIE. Waiting.
CUT TO
EMMA, pale, in the kitchen doorway. She shakes and shakes her head. Then--
EMMA
That Porky McKee--
(a sigh)
--and I thought he was supposed to be your friend.
As she finishes, stands there, WILLIE turns, dashes out as we CUT TO
THE FRONT OF PORKY'S HOUSE, and WILLIE, jamming his finger against the bell. As the door opens--
CUT TO
PORKY, standing inside his house. A screen door separates the TWO of them, so we can't see PORKY clearly, but it looks like he's gnawing on a leg of fried chicken.
PORKY
I just knew it would be you.
WILLIE
What happened?--my father's groaning, my mother's turned pale, what did you do?
PORKY
(pauses, then--)
I had Mr. Bimbaum give me a haircut.
WILLIE
There's got to be more.
PORKY
Well...
WILLIE
What?
PORKY
Your father--his chair was empty. Bimbaum's was busy.
CUT TO
WILLIE. Stunned.
WILLIE
You didn't do it.
CUT TO
PORKY, still behind the screen door.
PORKY
I did, I did, I waited for Bimbaum--
(in a rush now)
--I had to, Willie--the way you been looking I had to give it a try, and was it ever worth it--
(and now he opens the screen door, steps out)
Some haircut, huh?
PORKY, need it be said, has improved vastly in appearance.
WILLIE
(nods)
You never looked better. What kind of head shape you got?--
PORKY
--semi-triangular.
He offers WILLIE a bite of the chicken leg; WILLIE shakes his head no.
I'm sorry, Willie--tell your father I didn't mean anything personal; explain that to him.
CUT TO
WILLIE, exploding.
WILLIE
Explain it? The man's got feelings, Porky--you should see him--a wreck--he may never get over it--for all I know he's just going to lay around like a lump for the rest of his life--I mean, who knows--
PORKY
(cutting in)
--take it easy--it was just a one-time thing--it'll never happen again--
WILLIE
--it will, it will, you don't understand...
(and now it bursts from him)
--I wanna do the same thing!
CUT TO
THE TWO OF THEM, standing in silence for a moment. Then--
PORKY
(softly)
Oh, Willie...
WILLIE
(such guilt)
I want that Bimbaum again.
PORKY
(helpfully)
Maybe your father will get sick--
(as Willie gives him a sharp look--)
--not really sick, I don't mean serious, but he could catch cold--
WILLIE
--he's a horse--
PORKY
--then maybe some cousin might get married and they'd have to go, or maybe--
WILLIE
--I only got one shot. When haircut time comes up I'll ask my mother to help me.
PORKY
(nods)
Great.
WILLIE
You think?
PORKY
(gnawing on his chicken)
Mothers always understand.
Now on the word mothers--
CUT TO
EMMA, grabbing a bar of soap from the kitchen sink. And she's not smiling.
EMMA
Go wash your mouth.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL
WILLIE, scruffy as when we first saw him, standing in the kitchen with her.
WILLIE
But listen--
EMMA
Stab your own father in the back? My own little Judas.
WILLIE
Please--
EMMA
You need a haircut, your father will give you a haircut--now.
And as she takes him by the arm, marches him toward the kitchen door--
CUT TO
THE MAIN STREET IN TOWN. It's cloudy. WILLIE trudges slowly along. A COUPLE OF PEOPLE nod hello. He kind of grunts back, continues on.
CUT TO
THE BARBERSHOP as WILLIE slows, creeping now along the sidewalk. He slows, stops, looks toward the heavens.
CUT TO
THE SKY. Darkening.
CUT TO
WILLIE. He reaches the edge of the glass window in front of the shop, quickly peeks in--
CUT TO
INSIDE THE SHOP. MORRIS and BIMBAUM sit on benches, looking off in different directions. No customers. The shop is empty.
CUT TO
WILLIE, pulling his head back out of sight. He begins to knead his stomach. From the distance now: thunder.
CUT TO
WILLIE. He looks up as another crash of thunder is heard. His face is as gloomy as the bleak sky. Now he turns quickly as we CUT TO
AN OLD GUY who obviously needs a haircut. THE OLD GUY walks slowly toward the shop.
CUT TO
WILLIE, watching him, and now there is a flicker of hope showing.
CUT TO
THE OLD GUY. He stops in front of the shop, as if making up his mind.
CUT TO
WILLIE, praying almost for the GUY to go in and--
CUT TO
THE GUY. He takes a step away, changes his mind, enters the shop.
CUT TO
WILLIE. He waits a moment. Another. Finally, when he can't take any more, he quick grabs another peek inside the shop.
CUT TO
INSIDE. THE OLD GUY has gone into BIMBAUM's chair. MORRIS is still sitting idly on the bench, staring off.
CUT TO
WILLIE, out of sight again, shaking his head. Whatever torment he is going through, it's not lessening as time goes on.
CUT TO
THE SIDEWALK. The first dainty drop of rain splashes lightly down.
CUT TO
WILLIE, standing huddled on the sidewalk. He wears just a T-shirt and jeans and already his shoulders are a little wet.
CUT TO
THE SKY. EXPLODING. It's like someone has switched on a spigot and a torrential spring rain unloads.
CUT TO
WILLIE, alone, rocking back and forth. He's soaked but he just keeps on rocking. He glances inside the shop.
CUT TO
INSIDE. BIMBAUM is determining his CUSTOMER's head shape.
CUT TO
WILLIE, walking around in a kind of mystic circle.
CUT TO
THE HEAVENS. You never saw such rain.
CUT TO
WILLIE, drenched; he grabs another look inside.
CUT TO
INSIDE. BIMBAUM is just reaching for some shampoo.
CUT TO
WILLIE. Whipped but still standing there. He looks like he just stepped from a bathtub.
CUT TO
THE SKIES AND MURDEROUS THUNDER. It rumbles on and on and the rain, hard as it was before, only increases in tempo.
CUT TO
WILLIE. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then goes to the door, walks into the barbershop.
CUT TO
INSIDE. MORRIS rises, goes to his empty chair.
MORRIS
Perfect timing.
WILLIE doesn't move. MORRIS pats the back of his chair.
Hop up.
CUT TO
WILLIE. CLOSE UP.
WILLIE
(finally mumbling it out)
I think I'll wait for Mr. Bimbaum.
And the instant he's said it--
CUT TO
MORRIS. Erupting--
MORRIS
(huge)
Not in this shop--not in my shop--out--Out!--OUT!!!--
CUT TO
WILLIE, fleeing out the door, into the storm....
HOLD ON WILLIE. Then--
CUT TO
EMMA IN THE KITCHEN, working her magic at the stove. WILLIE silently enters. Outside, the rain still rages.
EMMA
(glancing at him)
You didn't take a cut.
WILLIE
They were jammed--I'll come back tomorrow.
EMMA
Good, good.
She smiles, returns to her labors. WILLIE slinks upstairs as we CUT TO
WILLIE IN HIS ROOM. He lies on his bed, dry now; different jeans, a clean T-shirt. He stares at the unrelenting rain. It's early evening.
Now he hears footsteps hurrying up the stairs. He goes to his door, looks out, catches a glimpse of BIMBAUM going to his room down the hall.
WILLIE returns to his bed, picks up his harmonica, tosses it back down.
Now he hears the raging voice of his FATHER. Again he heads for the door as we CUT TO
THE LIVING ROOM, MORRIS storming around, EMMA in pursuit, doing her best to pacify him.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL
WILLIE, crouched on the screen porch, listening.
EMMA
MORRIS
Some boy.
(clutching his heart)
Here's where the knife went in--feel--the blood is still dripping--
EMMA
--let me get you something nice to eat--
CUT TO
MORRIS. Louder now.
MORRIS
I don't want food, I want revenge. That goddam Bimbaum anyway--him and his head shapes--who does he think he is, Leonardo da Vinci?
(and now he stares up at the ceiling, shakes a fist toward it--) In this town, Bimbaum, you're a dead man.
CUT TO
WILLIE, watching his PARENTS. If he seemed miserable waiting out in the rain, he looks worse now....
CUT TO
THE FOUR OF THEM AT DINNER THAT NIGHT. Dead silence, except for the clink of utensils scraping plates. They ALL eat quickly, no one looking at anybody else. MORRIS finally puts his fork down, glances at EMMA quickly, then sighs audibly.
EMMA
(right on cue)
Whatever is the matter, Morris?
MORRIS
Business. Business is bad.
EMMA
Truly?
MORRIS
Yes, business is terrible--but not in the way that you might think.
EMMA
I wish you'd explain that to me, Morris.
MORRIS
Well, it ain't so much that the shop doesn't have customers, it's that the customers ain't getting service.
EMMA
What do you mean?
MORRIS
I mean that Bimbaum here takes too goddam long cutting hair.
EMMA
Oh, surely that is not so.
MORRIS
Oh, but it is so--just today he took one hundred and six minutes to do old Mr. Denzel, who is practically bald to begin with. Who can make money that way? Answer: Not me. I can cut three heads in a hundred and six minutes.
CUT TO
MR. BIMBAUM, eating steadily away.
BIMBAUM
That's because you're a butcher--what does a butcher need with time?
CUT TO
WILLIE, watching the TWO MEN.
MORRIS
This particular butcher happens to own the shop in which you are employed. Or should I say, were employed.
BIMBAUM
(puts his fork down now)
Meaning?
MORRIS
Meaning that unless you get speedier, you get out and I hire someone who ain't such a slowpoke. Not that many jobs around, Bimbaum.
CUT TO
BIMBAUM. He nods.
CUT TO
MORRIS, staring at him.
MORRIS
You work for me, you work my way. Tomorrow you get timed: If you can cut a head in, say, forty-five minute
s, you stay; if you can't, good-bye.
BIMBAUM
What head? You'll probably pick Mr. Dietrich--he's got a head like a nose.
MORRIS
I may be a butcher, but at least I am fair--you need a guinea pig, I got a guinea pig--I happen to be its father.
CUT TO
WILLIE, glancing quickly at his father.
WILLIE
Me?
MORRIS
Oh yes, you.
WILLIE
I don't think I want to be there.
MORRIS
Guess what, sonny boy--what you want and what you get ain't always necessarily the same....
HOLD ON THE QUARTET sitting silently at the table. Then--
CUT TO
THE MAIN STREET IN TOWN. The next morning. Church bells off in the distance. It's Sunday and a beauty.
MORRIS, WILLIE, and BIMBAUM troop down the empty street. MORRIS, stalking ahead, carries a large alarm clock. BIMBAUM is behind him, wearing, as always, his rumpled suit. Bringing up the rear, slowly, is WILLIE. As they move toward their appointed destination--
CUT TO
THE ALARM CLOCK being placed firmly on a shelf. MORRIS finishes setting it. It ticks loudly.
CUT TO
BIMBAUM AND WILLIE watching him--we're inside the shop.
MORRIS
(moving toward the door)
You got forty-five minutes.
And as he leaves--
CUT TO
THE CLOCK. It reads 11:15. And counting.
CUT TO
WILLIE, the instant his FATHER has gone. He dashes to a shelf, grabs a cape, throws it around his body, hurries to BIMBAUM's chair, jumps up, turns, and CUT TO
BIMBAUM. Staring, staring at WILLIE's head. In a world of his own.