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Inglourious Basterds

Page 5

by Quentin Tarantino


  SHOSANNA

  You can run the machines?

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  What machines?

  Using her hands to pantomime the rotating film reels on a projector, she says:

  SHOSANNA

  The machines that show the film.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  The projectors? Yes, I own a cinema. Of course I can operate them.

  SHOSANNA

  I know, I saw you.

  FLASH ON:

  CU SHOSANNA

  eyes creeping up the stairway in the projection booth, watching…

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  expertly working the projectors…

  BACK TO SHOSANNA

  SHOSANNA

  Teach me. Teach me to run the machines that show the film. It’s only you and the negro. I know you could use some help.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  I know at least six people who’ve been put up against a wall and machine-gunned for sheltering enemies of the state. I have no intention of being unlucky number seven. How long have you been in Paris?

  SHOSANNA

  A week and a few days.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  How have you survived the curfew without capture?

  SHOSANNA

  I sleep on rooftops.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  Again, I’m forced to admit, clever girl. How is it?

  SHOSANNA

  Cold.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  (laughs)

  I can imagine.

  SHOSANNA

  Respectfully, no you can’t.

  Pause.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  Fair enough.

  Thinks…

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  So you can’t operate a 35mm film projector. You want me to teach you, in order to work here, in order to use my cinema as a hole to hide in. Is that correct?

  SHOSANNA

  Oui.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  What’s your name?

  SHOSANNA

  Shosanna.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  I’m Madame Mimieux. You may call me Madame. This is a cinema. Not a home for wayward war orphans.

  Having said that, what you say is true. If you were truly exceptional, I could find use for you. So, Shosanna, are you truly exceptional?

  SHOSANNA

  Oui, Madame.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  I will be the judge of that.

  DISSOLVE TO

  TITLE CARD:

  Which shows a lovely PENCIL SKETCH of the CITY OF PARIS, complete with Eiffel Tower.

  ABOVE IT READS:

  “1944 PARIS”

  THEN…

  The CAMERA PULLS BACK, and we see we’re not looking at a TITLE CARD at all, but a CALENDER stuck on the wall of the little cinema’s projection booth. Before we leave it, WE SEE the month is JUNE…

  The CAMERA finds the THREE-YEARS-OLDER SHOSANNA working as the PROJECTIONIST. It would appear that Shosanna passed Madame Mimieux’s exceptional test.

  A lyrical, Morricone-like tune PLAYS on the SOUNDTRACK. This will be “Shosanna’s Theme.”

  A little bell begins RINGING on one of the projectors, alerting Shosanna its time for a REEL CHANGE.

  Shosanna stands at the projector, watching the old German film she’s projecting, waiting for the FIRST REEL CHANGE MARK…

  SILVER SCREEN

  of the little cinema. Onscreen LENI RIEFENSTAHL lies horizontal as an icicle drips on her head in the old German film “The White Hell of Pitz Palu.” The FIRST REEL CHANGE MARK POPS ON in the upper-right-hand corner of the FRAME (that tells the projectionist to get ready).

  As the FILM REEL on the FIRST PROJECTOR rolls out, Shosanna stands ready, waiting by the SECOND PROJECTOR…

  WHEN…

  SILVER SCREEN

  the SECOND REEL CHANGE MARK POPS ON in the same place (that’s the one).

  SHOSANNA

  THROWS the lever on the SECOND PROJECTOR, switching the film from projector 1 to projector 2, executing a perfect REEL CHANGE.

  As “Shosanna’s Theme” plays on the soundtrack, we watch, via MONTAGE, her go through her daily chores: carry heavy film cans up the stairs, empty the rat traps, etc, etc… .

  EXT—CINEMA—NIGHT

  The MARQUEE READS in French:

  “GERMAN NIGHT LENI RIEFENSTAHL in PABST’S WHITE HELL OF PITZ PALU”

  Shosanna emerges from the cinema carrying two buckets of LETTERS (for the marquee) and a tall ladder. Her chore here, obviously, is to change the show on the marquee.

  The LITERARY NARRATOR comes on the soundtrack in ENGLISH:

  NARRATOR (VO)

  To operate a cinema in Paris during the occupation, one had two choices. Either you could show new German propaganda films, produced under the watchful eye of Joseph Goebbels. Or… you could have a German night in your weekly schedule and show allowed German classic films.

  Their German night was Thursday.

  Shosanna, by herself, perched up high on the ladder, changing the letters on the marquee.

  A YOUNG GERMAN SOLDIER (about the same age as Shosanna) walks out of the cinema. He sees the ladder with the young French girl on top and walks over.

  They speak FRENCH, SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH:

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  What starts tomorrow?

  Shosanna looks down, seeing the young German soldier smiling up at her from below.

  SHOSANNA

  A Max Linder festival.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  Ummm, I always preferred Linder to Chaplin. Except Linder never made a film as good as “The Kid.” The chase climax of “The Kid,” superb.

  Shosanna continues working, not adding to the conversation.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  I suppose now you could use an M, an A, and an X?

  SHOSANNA

  No need, I can manage.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  Don’t be ridiculous. It’s my pleasure.

  He hands the French damsel the letters spelling MAX.

  SHOSANNA

  Merci.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  I adore your cinema very much.

  SHOSANNA

  Merci.

  She busies herself with the marquee letters…

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  Is it yours?

  SHOSANNA

  Do I own it?

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  Oui.

  SHOSANNA

  Oui.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  How does a young girl such as yourself own a cinema?

  Due to his uniform and Shosanna’s situation, his efforts at trying to make small talk strike the young Jewess in hiding as a Gestapo interrogation.

  SHOSANNA

  My aunt left it to me.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  Lucky girl.

  Shosanna makes no reply back.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  Merci for hosting a German night.

  SHOSANNA

  I don’t have a choice, but you’re welcome.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  Do you choose the German films yourself?

  SHOSANNA

  Oui.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  Then my merci stands. I love the Riefenstahl mountain films, especially “Pitz Palu.” It’s nice to see a French girl who’s an admirer of Riefenstahl.

  SHOSANNA

  “Admire” would not be the adjective I would use to describe my feelings toward Fräulein Riefenstahl.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  But you do admire the director Pabst, don’t you? That’s why you included his name on the marquee.

  She climbs down from the ladder and faces the German private.

  SHOSANNA

  I’m French. We respect directors in our country.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  Apparently even Germans.

  SHOSANNA

  Even Germans. Merci for your assistance, Private. Adieu.

  She turns to go back inside.
r />   GERMAN SOLDIER

  You’re not finished?

  SHOSANNA

  I’ll finish in the morning.

  She opens the door to go inside.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  May I ask your name?

  SHOSANNA

  You wish to see my papers?

  She hands him her excellently forged papers.

  That’s obviously not what he meant, but he takes them anyway to read her name.

  COL. LANDA

  Emmanuelle Mimieux. That’s a very pretty name.

  SHOSANNA

  Merci. Are you finished with my papers?

  He hands them back.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  Mademoiselle. My name is Frederick Zoller.

  She gives no response.

  GERMAN SOLDIER

  It’s been a pleasure chatting with a fellow cinema lover. Sweet dreams, Mademoiselle.

  He gives her a little salute and walks into the black of a curfew-imposed night.

  She looks after him. She didn’t show it, but he kind of got to her. After all, for any true cinema lover, it’s hard to hate anybody who, CINEMA MON AMOUR.

  EXT—ROOFTOP CINEMA—NIGHT

  Shosanna stands on the roof her her cinema, late at night, lighting up a cigarette. As she takes her first big drag, she remembers a voice.

  FLASH ON

  MADAME MIMIEUX, the younger Shosanna, and the black projectionist, Marcel, in the projection booth. Shosanna lights up a cigarette, and Madame Mimieux SLAPS her face HARD, knocking the cigarette out of her mouth. Marcel quickly STAMPS it out on the floor.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  If I ever see you light up a cigarette in my cinema again, I’ll turn you in to the Nazis, do you understand?

  Shosanna is shocked by this statement.

  SHOSANNA

  Oui, Madame.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  And for bringing an open flame into my cinema, you deserve far worse than a Nazi Jewish boxcar. With your thick head, what do you think the highest priority of a cinema manager is? Keeping this fucking place from burning down to the ground, that’s what! In my collection, I have over three hundred and fifty 35mm, nitrate film prints, which are not only immensely flammable but highy unstable. And should they catch fire, they burn three times faster than paper. If that happens… POOF… all gone, cinema no more, everybody burned alive. If I ever see you with an open flame in my cinema again, I won’t turn you into the Nazis. I’ll kill you myself. And the fucking Germans will give me a curfew pass. Do you understand me?

  SHOSANNA

  Oui, Madame.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  Do you believe me?

  SHOSANNA

  Oui, Madame.

  MADAME MIMIEUX

  You damn well better.

  BACK TO ROOF

  Shosanna exhales cigarette smoke.

  Marcel comes onto the roof.

  MARCEL

  Are you well?

  SHOSANNA

  Even on the roof I can’t smoke a cigarette without hearing Madame’s voice yelling at me. That’s why I do it. To hear Madame’s voice again.

  MARCEL

  We both miss her.

  SHOSANNA

  I know. I’m fine, darling. I’ll be to bed soon.

  Marcel goes back inside. Shosanna smokes.

  INT—FRENCH BISTRO—AFTERNOON

  Shosanna sits in the back of a French bistro, reading a book, “The Saint in New York,” by Leslie Charteris, drinking wine when the young German soldier from the other day, FREDRICK ZOLLER, walks in. He gets a beer, then notices the French girl sitting in the back. He smiles and heads over to her. “Oh no, not this guy again,” she thinks.

  Again they speak in FRENCH SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH:

  FREDRICK

  May I join you?

  SHOSANNA

  Look, Fredrick—

  FREDRICK

  (smiling)

  —You remember my name?

  SHOSANNA

  Yes… Look, you seem a pleasant enough fellow—

  FREDRICK

  —Merci.

  SHOSANNA

  You’re welcome. Regardless, I want you to stop pestering me.

  FREDRICK

  I apologize, Mademoiselle. I wasn’t trying to be a pest. I was simply trying to be friendly.

  SHOSANNA

  I don’t wish to be your friend.

  FREDRICK

  Why not?

  SHOSANNA

  Don’t act like an infant. You know why.

  FREDRICK

  I’m more than just a uniform.

  SHOSANNA

  Not to me. If you are so desperate for a French girlfriend, I suggest you try Vichy.

  Just then TWO OTHER GERMAN SOLDIERS come over, obviously very impressed with Fredrick. They make a fuss over him in UNSUBTITLED GERMAN, which neither Shosanna or the non-German-speaking members of the movie’s audience can understand. He signs autographs for them and shakes their hands, and they go on their way.

  Shosanna’s eyes narrow.

  SHOSANNA

  Who are you?

  FREDRICK

  I thought I was just a uniform.

  SHOSANNA

  You’re not just a German soldier. Are you somebody’s son?

  FREDRICK

  Most German soldiers are somebody’s son.

  SHOSANNA

  Yeah, but you’re not just somebody. What are you, Hitler’s nephew?

  He leans in across the table. She leans in too, and he says:

  FREDRICK

  Yes.

  SHOSANNA

  Really?

  FREDRICK

  No, not really. I’m just teasing you.

  She leans back, annoyed.

  SHOSANNA

  Then what is it? What are you, a German movie star?

  FREDRICK

  Not exactly.

  SHOSANNA

  (Pfuit) What does that mean, “not exactly”? I asked if you were a movie star. The answer to that question is yes or no.

  Fredrick laughs at that line.

  FREDRICK

  When you said that just now, you reminded me of my sister.

  This catches young Shosanna off guard.

  FREDRICK

  I come from a home of six sisters. We run a family-operated cinema in Munich. Seeing you run around your cinema reminds me of them. Especially my sister Helga. She raised me, when our father wasn’t up to the job. I admire her very much. You’d like her. She doesn’t wear a German uniform.

  SHOSANNA

  You were raised by Helga?

  FREDRICK

  All my sisters. I’m the baby, but Helga was the bossiest.

  SHOSANNA

  And your mother and father?

  FREDRICK

  My mother died. And my father was a loser. My father’s motto: “If at first you don’t succeed, quit.” The day he left, good riddance. My sisters are all I need. It’s why I like your cinema. It makes me feel both closer to them and a little homesick at the same time.

  SHOSANNA

  Is your cinema still operating?

  FREDRICK

  Oui.

  SHOSANNA

  What’s it called?

  FREDRICK

  The Kino Haus.

  SHOSANNA

  How has it done during the war?

  FREDRICK

  Actually, in Germany, cinema attendance is up.

  SHOSANNA

  No doubt. You don’t have to operate under a curfew.

  FREDRICK

  How often do you fill your house?

  SHOSANNA

 

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