IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE
	La sceneggiatura	I suoni	Jimmy Stewart	La gallery

LA SCENEGGIATURA

FADE IN

EXTERIOR SLUM STREET BEDFORD FALLS –– DAY –– TWO YEARS LATER

MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT –– In front of one of the miserable shacks that line the street are two vehicles. One of them is George Bailey's rickety car, and the other is an even more rickety truck piled high with household goods. The Martini family is moving. The family consists of Martini, his wife and four kid of various ages, from two to ten. George and Mary are helping the Martinis move. About a dozen neighbors crowd around. Martini and George, assisted by three of the Martini children, are carrying out the last of the furniture. As they emerge from the house, one of the neighbors, Schultz, calls out:

SCHULTZ: Martini, you rented a new house?

MARTINI: Rent?
(to George)
You hear what he say, Mr. Bailey?

GEORGE: What's that?

MARTINI: I own the house. Me, Giuseppe Martini. I own my own house. No more we live like pigs in thisa Potter's Field. Hurry, Maria.

MARIA: Yes . . .

GEORGE: Come on . . .
(to Mary)
Bring the baby.
(to Martini)
I'll bring the kids in the car.

MARTINI: Oh, thank you, Mr. Bailey.

Mary gets in the front seat of the car, with the baby in her arms.

GEORGE: All right, kids –– here –– get in here. Now get right up on the seat there. Get the . . . get the goat!

The family goat gets in the back seat with the three kids.

MARTINI: Goodbye, everybody!

GEORGE: All in . . .

The rickety caravan starts off down the street, to the cheers of the neighbors.

EXTERIOR BAILEY PARK –– DAY

CLOSE SHOT –– Sign hanging from a tree: "Welcome to Bailey Park." CAMERA PANS TO follow George's car and the old truck laden with furniture as they pass –– we hear Martini's voice singing "O Sole Mio." Bailey Park is a district of new small houses, not all alike, but each individual. New lawns here and there, and young trees. It has the promise when built up of being a pleasant little middle class section.

EXTERIOR MARTINI'S NEW HOUSE –– DAY

MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT –– George and Mary are on the porch of the new house, with the Martinis lined up before them.

GEORGE: Mr. and Mrs. Martini, welcome home.

The Martinis cross themselves.

EXTERIOR STREET –– BAILEY PARK –– DAY

CLOSE SHOT –– Sam Wainwright is standing in front of his big black town car. Sam is the epitome of successful, up-and-coming businessman. His wife, in the car, is a very attractive, sophisticated-looking lady, dripping with furs and jewels. Sam is watching George across the street.

SAM: That old George . . . he's always making a speech.
(to George)
Hee-haw!
(wiggles his hands)

EXTERIOR NEW HOUSE –– DAY

CLOSE SHOT –– Mary and George on porch.

GEORGE (to Mary): Sam Wainwright!

MARY: Oh, who cares.
(to Mrs. Martini, giving her loaf of bread)
Bread! That this house may never know hunger.

Mrs. Martini crosses herself.

MARY (giving her salt): Salt! That life may always have flavor.

GEORGE (handing bottle to Martini): And wine! That joy and prosperity may reign forever. Enter the Martini castle!

The Martinis cross themselves, shaking hands all around. The kids enter, with screams of delight. Mrs. Martini kisses Mary.

INTERIOR POTTER'S OFFICE IN BANK –– DAY

CLOSE SHOT –– Potter seated in his wheelchair at his desk, with his goon beside him. His rent collector, Reineman, is talking, pointing to maps spread out on the desk.

REINEMAN: Look, Mr. Potter, it's no skin off my nose. I'm just your little rent collector. But you can't laugh off this Bailey Park any more. Look at it.

A buzzer is heard, and Potter snaps on the dictaphone on his desk.

SECRETARY'S VOICE: Congressman Blatz is here to see you.

POTTER (to dictaphone): Oh, tell the congressman to wait.
(to Reineman)
Go on.

REINEMAN: Fifteen years ago, a half-dozen houses stuck here and there.
(indicating map)
There's the old cemetery, squirrels, buttercups, daisies. Used to hunt rabbits there myself. Look at it today. Dozens of the prettiest little homes you ever saw. Ninety per cent owned by suckers who used to pay rent to you. Your Potter's Field, my dear Mr. Employer, is becoming just that. And are the local yokels making with those David and Goliath wisecracks!

POTTER: Oh, they are, are they? Even though they know the Baileys haven't made a dime out of it.

REINEMAN: You know very well why. The Baileys were all chumps. Every one of these homes is worth twice what it cost the Building and Loan to build. If I were you, Mr. Potter . . .

POTTER (interrupting): Well, you are not me.

REINEMAN (as he leaves): As I say, it's no skin off my nose. But one of these days this bright young man is going to be asking George Bailey for a job.

Reineman exits.

POTTER: The Bailey family has been a boil on my neck long enough.

He flips the switch on the dictaphone.

SECRETARY'S VOICE: Yes, sir?

POTTER: Come in here.

EXTERIOR STREET IN BAILEY PARK –– DAY

CLOSE SHOT –– George and Mary are talking to Sam Wainwright in front of the latter's car. Hs wife, Jane, is now out of the car.

SAM: We just stopped in town to take a look at the new factory, and then we're going to drive on down to Florida.

GEORGE: Oh . . .

JANE: Why don't you have your friends join us?

SAM: Why, sure. Hey, why don't you kids drive down with us, huh?

GEORGE: Oh, I'm afraid I couldn't get away, Sam.

SAM: Still got the nose to the old grindstone, eh? Jane, I offered to let George in on the ground floor in plastics, and he turned me down cold.

GEORGE: Oh, now, don't rub it in.

SAM: I'm not rubbing it in. Well, I guess we better run along.

There is handshaking all around as Sam and Jane get into their car.

JANE: Awfully glad to have met you, Mary.

MARY: Nice meeting you.

GEORGE: Goodbye.

JANE: Goodbye, George.

SAM: So long, George. See you in the funny papers.

GEORGE: Goodbye, Sam.

MARY: Have fun.

GEORGE: Thanks for dropping around.

SAM (to chauffeur): To Florida!
(to George)
Hee-haw!

GEORGE: Hee-haw.

The big black limousine glides away, leaving George standing with his arm around Mary, gazing broodingly after it. They slowly walk over to George's old car and look at it silently.

INTERIOR POTTER'S OFFICE –– DAY

CLOSE SHOT –– Potter is lighting a big cigar which he has just given George. The goon is beside Potter's chair, as usual.

GEORGE: Thank you, sir. Quite a cigar, Mr. Potter.

POTTER: You like it? I'll send you a box.

GEORGE (nervously): Well, I . . . I suppose I'll find out sooner or later, but just what exactly did you want to see me about?

POTTER (laughs): George, now that's just what I like so much about you.
(pleasantly and smoothly)
George, I'm an old man, and most people hate me. But I don't like them either, so that makes it all even. You know just as well as I do that I run practically everything in this town but the Bailey Building and Loan. You know, also, that for a number of years I've been trying to get control of
it . . . or kill it. But I haven't been able to do it. You have been stopping me. In fact, you have beaten me, George, and as anyone in this county can tell you, that takes some doing. Take during the depression, for instance. You and I were the only ones that kept our heads. You saved the Building and Loan, and I saved all the rest.

GEORGE: Yes. Well, most people say you stole all the rest.

POTTER: The envious ones say that, George, the suckers. Now, I have stated my side very frankly. Now, let's look at your side. Young man, twenty-seven, twenty-eight . . . married, making, say . . . forty a week.

GEORGE (indignantly): Forty-five!

POTTER: Forty-five. Forty-five. Out of which, after supporting your mother, and paying your bills, you're able to keep, say, ten, if you skimp. A child or two comes along, and you won't even be able to save the ten. Now, if this young man of twenty-eight was a common, ordinary yokel, I'd say he was doing fine. But George Bailey is not a common, ordinary yokel. He's an intelligent, smart, ambitious young man — who hates his job –– who hates the Building and Loan almost as much as I do. A young man who's been dying to get out on his own ever since he was born. A young man . . . the smartest one of the crowd, mind you, a young man who has to sit by and watch his friends go places, because he's trapped. Yes, sir, trapped into frittering his life away playing nursemaid to a lot of garlic-eaters. Do I paint a correct picture, or do I exaggerate?

GEORGE (mystified): Now what's your point, Mr. Potter?

POTTER: My point? My point is, I want to hire you.

GEORGE (dumbfounded): Hire me?

POTTER: I want you to manage my affairs, run my properties. George, I'll start you out at twenty thousand dollars a year.

George drops his cigar on his lap. He nervously brushes off the sparks from his clothes.

GEORGE (flabbergasted): Twenty thou . . . twenty thousand dollars a year?

POTTER: You wouldn't mind living in the nicest house in town, buying your wife a lot of fine clothes, a couple of business trips to New York a year, maybe once in a while Europe. You wouldn't mind that, would you, George?

GEORGE: Would I?
(looking around skeptically)
You're not talking to somebody else around here, are you? You know, this is me, you remember me? George Bailey.

POTTER: Oh, yes, George Bailey. Whose ship has just come in –– providing he has brains enough to climb aboard.

GEORGE: Well, what about the Building and Loan?

POTTER: Oh, confound it, man, are you afraid of success? I'm offering you a three year contract at twenty thousand dollars a year, starting today. Is it a deal or isn't it?

GEORGE: Well, Mr. Potter, I . . . I . . . I know I ought to jump at the chance, but I . . . I just . . . I wonder if it would be possible for you to give me twenty-four hours to think it over?

POTTER: Sure, sure, sure. You go on home and talk about it to your wife.

GEORGE: I'd like to do that.

POTTER: In the meantime, I'll draw up the papers.

GEORGE: All right, sir.

POTTER (offers hand): Okay, George?

GEORGE (taking his hand): Okay, Mr. Potter.

As they shake hands, George feels a physical revulsion. Potter's hand feels like a cold mackerel to him. In that moment of physical contact he knows he could never be associated with this man. George drops his hand with a shudder. He peers intently into Potter's face.

GEORGE (cont'd –– vehemently): No . . . no . . . no . . . no, now wait a minute, here! I don't have to talk to anybody! I know right now, and the answer is no! NO! Doggone it!
(getting madder all the time)
You sit around here and you spin your little webs and you think the whole world revolves around you and your money. Well, it doesn't, Mr. Potter! In the . . . in the whole vast configuration of things, I'd say you were nothing but a scurvy little spider. You . . .

He turns and shouts at the goon, impassive as ever beside Potter's wheelchair.

GEORGE (cont'd): . . . And that goes for you too!

As George opens the office door to exit, he shouts at Mr. Potter's secretary in the outer office:

GEORGE (cont'd): And it goes for you too!

INTERIOR BEDROOM –– GEORGE AND MARY'S HOUSE –– NIGHT

CLOSE SHOT –– George enters the bedroom. The room is modestly furnished with just a cheap bed, a chair or two, and a dresser. Mary is asleep in the bed. As George comes in, his head is filled with many confusing thoughts, relating to incidents in his past life.

POTTER'S VOICE: You wouldn't mind living in the nicest house in town. Buying your wife a lot of fine clothes, going to New York on a business trip a couple of times a year. Maybe to Europe once in a while.

George takes off his hat and coat, moves over to the dresser and stares at his reflection in the mirror.

GEORGE'S VOICE: I know what I'm going to do tomorrow and the next day and next year and the year after that. I'm shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet, and I'm going to see the world . . . And I'm going to build things. I'm going to build air fields. I'm going to build skyscrapers a hundred stories high. I'm going to build a bridge a mile long.

While the above thoughts are passing through George's head, his attention is caught by a picture on the wall near the dresser:

INSERT: Picture on the wall. It is the sketch of George lassoing the moon that we first saw in Mary's living room. The lettering reads: "George Lassos The Moon."

GEORGE'S VOICE: What is it you want, Mary? You want the moon? If you do, just say the word; I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down for you.

Mary is now awake, and starts singing their theme song:

MARY (singing): Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, won't you come out tonight, won't you come out tonight.

George crosses over and sits on the edge of the bed.

GEORGE: Hi.

MARY: Hi.

GEORGE: Mary Hatch, why in the world did you ever marry a guy like me?

MARY: To keep from being an old maid.

GEORGE: You could have married Sam Wainwright or anybody else in town.

MARY: I didn't want to marry anybody else in town. I want my baby to look like you.

GEORGE: You didn't even have a honeymoon. I promised you . . .
(does a double take)
. . . Your what?

MARY: My baby.

GEORGE (incredulously): You mean . . . Mary, you on the nest?

MARY: George Bailey lassos stork.

GEORGE: Lassos the stork! You mean you . . . What is it, a boy or a girl?

Mary nods her head happily.