(he points off)
CUT TO
WILLIE. He sighs, stands.
WILLIE
Back in a little, Porky.
And with that, he takes off. And the minute he does that--
CREDITS START TO ROLL.
What WE SEE, as WILLIE runs along, is the world he inhabits. It's a small town, the time is today, but probably if you looked at it thirty years ago, you wouldn't have seen much difference. A tv aerial here and there may just be the biggest changes. Probably, a few miles away, there are shopping centers and parking problems and progress. But not here, at least not now, and maybe not ever.
Music starts, too, but not rock. Rather what we have here is something closer to Copland. The kind of wondrous Americana tune that can be played sprightly and fast, and it works that way; but when you slow it down, orchestrate it fully, it's terribly moving. For reasons that will become clear before we're done, the music will be referred to as "Bimbaum's Theme."
CUT TO
WILLIE, tearing away from the schoolyard, going up a hill.
CUT TO
THE CREST OF THE HILL as WILLIE reaches it. The town, what there is of it, is visible in the distance.
CUT TO
A RAILROAD TRACK as WILLIE approaches, slows, glances both ways before darting across.
CUT TO
THE TOWN SQUARE as WILLIE runs along. A FEW PEOPLE wave to him on his journey; he waves back, never breaking stride.
CUT TO
THE MAIN STREET IN TOWN NOW. WILLIE passes a bus station, a FEW PEOPLE waiting idly on the sidewalk.
CUT TO
A BOARDED-UP MOVIE HOUSE as he whizzes by. The music is reaching a peak now and WILLIE at last starts to slow as we CUT TO
A BARBERSHOP at the end of the block. As WILLIE reaches it, throws open the door--
CREDITS COME TO AN END.
CUT TO
INSIDE THE SHOP as the overhead bell on the door squawks. WILLIE steps in, shuts the door. The bell squawks again.
We are a long way from the world of Vidal Sassoon. The shop is small, a few benches and some magazines piled on a couple of tables. Two barber chairs, two sinks, calendars with photographs on the walls.
Seated in a corner, his hands folded in his lap, is a MAN. He stands now, and as he does--
CUT TO
MR. BIMBAUM, CLOSE UP. Small, aging, ageless. He wears a rumpled suit; even if it came directly from the dry cleaners, it would still look rumpled on him. He's a little paunchy now, and he was never Tyrone Power. But his eyes are bright. When Mr. Bimbaum stares at you, it is very hard not to look away.
CUT TO
WILLIE, hopping into the nearest chair.
WILLIE
Okay, let's get it going, I'm destroying Porky McKee.
Now this geyser of information bursts from him; as he speaks, he points quickly to various drawers and shelves.
Shears are there, clippers are there, razors there, towels there, shampoo's there--
BIMBAUM hasn't moved--what he seems to be doing is just staring at WILLIE's head.
BIMBAUM
An expert, huh?
WILLIE
Whenever my father hires anybody, I get to be the guinea pig, so...
(now he stops, a bit confused as we)
CUT TO
BIMBAUM, advancing slowly toward the chair, his eyes fixated on WILLIE's head. He walks around it slowly, bends down, looks up at it, stands on tiptoe, looks down.
CUT TO
WILLIE, watching the old guy.
WILLIE
What're you doing?
BIMBAUM makes no reply. He places his hands on WILLIE's head, fingers wide apart.
Something wrong?
CUT TO
BIMBAUM. Again no answer. He is concentrating deeply. Now he takes his hands from WILLIE's head, makes an imaginary replica of it in the air.
BIMBAUM
(finally nods to himself, says one word)
Spherical.
WILLIE
Huh?
BIMBAUM
Head shape spherical.
CUT TO
THE SINK, as BIMBAUM turns on the spigots, adjusts them to his liking.
BIMBAUM
Name?
WILLIE
(watching as Bimbaum takes a barber's cape, pulls it over his chest) Willie.
(as Bimbaum knots the cape behind his neck)
Name?
BIMBAUM
H. Bimbaum.
And on that piece of information---
CUT TO
WILLIE, and he can't help it, he just breaks out laughing.
BIMBAUM
That is funny why?
WILLIE
(trying for control)
Well... it's just--I mean, if the "H" is worse than the "Bimbaum" it must be a really horrible name.
(and he laughs again)
CUT TO
BIMBAUM. Thoughtfully, he stands there, and when WILLIE's laughter is done, he swats the kid on top of the head.
WILLIE
That hurt.
BIMBAUM
Was supposed to.
He goes to the sink now, gestures for WILLIE to bend forward. He looks at WILLIE's hair a moment, shakes his head.
Some butcher gave you your last haircut.
CUT TO
WILLIE. Looks up.
WILLIE
Yeah?
(and he points to the other barber's chair)
Well, my father gave it to me.
CUT TO
BIMBAUM. He leans in TOWARD THE CAMERA, speaks very distinctly.
BIMBAUM
Then your father is a butcher....
And with that, he reaches for some shampoo as we
CUT TO
SOMETHING SILVER IN EXTREME CLOSE UP.
HOLD ON IT.
We don't know what it is, but that's okay, we're not going to stay on it forever--
--now there seem to be two slivers of silver and they're at right angles to each other as we PULL BACK TO REVEAL
BIMBAUM'S SCISSORS. He holds it up to the light, studies it a moment, concentrating deeply.
CUT TO
WILLIE, watching the OLD GUY, not knowing quite what to make of it.
CUT TO
THE SHOP, and as BIMBAUM's scissors catch the light, it seems for an instant as if the walls and ceiling are filled with dots of brightness, a shower of sparkling dots and CUT TO
BIMBAUM, as now, still holding the scissors, he works the blades--they make a rhythm--snip-snip-snip.
CUT TO
WILLIE, watching, as BIMBAUM makes the rhythm again--snip-snip-snip. It's the same rhythm as the start of the first three notes of "Jingle Bells," and under his breath WILLIE, almost without knowing it, hums that tune. "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way..."
CUT TO
BIMBAUM, as he moves close to WILLIE now, the scissors continuing their snipping sound, and he takes some hair between his long beautiful fingers, gradually moves the fingers down to just the tips of the hair, makes a first snip and CUT TO
A few tiny bits of hair falling and
CUT TO
BIMBAUM, moving around the chair, making another almost imperceptible snip and CUT TO
WILLIE, shifting in the chair, getting comfortable and
CUT TO
BIMBAUM in motion, another snip, another and
CUT TO
MORE HAIR FALLING, just the smallest amount imaginable, and CUT TO
THE SCISSORS, snip-snip-snip, and
CUT TO
WILLIE, relaxing, humming "Jingle Bells," and
CUT TO
THE WALLS as the bright dots dance and
CUT TO
WILLIE watching the dots--there's a calendar on the wall of a beautiful springtime shot of a river and rocks and grass and great green trees, and as the dots move across the scene--
CUT TO
BIMBAUM'S EYES--bright, and as he moves gracefully around the chair--
CUT TO
CUT TO
WILLIE, deeply relaxed now, a kind of daydreamy look on his face and we CUT TO
THE SCHOOLYARD, only it's all kind of hazy and WILLIE is aiming his shooting marble at another marble an impossible distance away, and PORKY is waving his arms, trying to distract him, and a CROWD OF PEOPLE watches as WILLIE casually shoots his marble and it flies through the air and bingo--a perfect hit and the CROWD is amazed and CUT TO
THE DOTS, continuing their dance as "Bimbaum's Theme" begins again, lilting and lovely and CUT TO
THE SCHOOLYARD again, again kind of hazy, and the CROWD is bigger and WILLIE has to make an even more impossible shot, the marble is much too far away to hit, and as PORKY stands there WILLIE moves his arm behind his back and does the shot that way and again--bingo, another perfect hit and this time PORKY is amazed, too, along with the CROWD, which is much bigger now, and they start to clap and WILLIE modestly acknowledges their admiration as PORKY walks over to him, carrying a gigantic golden trophy that is inscribed "Champion of the Known World," and he hands it to WILLIE, who graciously accepts it, bows to the CROWD, which is huge now, and they shake their heads in wonder as they continue to clap away and CUT TO
BIMBAUM, fierce in his concentration now, his beautiful fingers always moving, his silver scissors snipping away and CUT TO
WILLIE, eyes starting to close as he looks at the calendar photo of the river and the trees and "Bimbaum's Theme" is louder than before, louder and more beautiful and CUT TO
THE CALENDAR PHOTOGRAPH OF THE RIVER, only now the river starts to flow, and the sound of the water foaming around the rocks begins to build--and now the great trees start to bend in a spring wind, and that sound, the wind sound, joins the rush of the water, and it's so lovely, so perfect and lovely, all you want to do is lie down by the water's edge in the thick grass and stare at the blue sky with the white clouds and the giant green trees gracefully moving as the wind passes through and HOLD ON THE FLOWING RIVER. And the trees and the sky as "Bimbaum's Theme" reaches a climax--
CUT SHARPLY TO
THE BELL ABOVE THE BARBERSHOP DOOR as MORRIS enters.
MORRIS
Done?
CUT TO
BIMBAUM, floating the cape away from WILLIE's body.
BIMBAUM
Done.
CUT TO
MORRIS. He glances at WILLIE, moves to BIMBAUM, who stands by the sink. (We haven't seen WILLIE yet--not clearly. We don't know what he looks like.)
MORRIS
The haircut is maybe a trifle close.
BIMBAUM snorts, turns away, puts the shampoo back.
As I said, a trifle close--but otherwise acceptable. Bimbaum--you got a job.
And on that--
CUT TO
WILLIE out the door and gone and now
A SERIES OF QUICK CUTS--
but not of WILLIE, of his shadow as he retraces his steps back to the marble game--
--the boarded up movie house as the shadow flits by--
--the shadow racing across the town square--
--now the railroad tracks as the shadow pauses, darts across--
--faster than before, the shadow races up the hill and now--
CUT TO
PORKY McKEE alone at the schoolyard. PORKY is playing a game of Big Pot by himself, carefully shooting marbles out of a large chalked circle.
WILLIE'S VOICE (OVER)
(coming closer)
Prepare to die.
PORKY says nothing. He is clearly steamed about something.
C'mon, let's go, hurry it up.
PORKY
Don't tell me hurry--you've been gone almost two hours--
(and he points off--)
CUT TO
A CLOCK high on the wall of the school. It reads almost five o'clock.
CUT TO
PORKY. Continues to shoot marbles. Angry as hell.
PORKY
It was maybe three when you left.
(louder)
I think it stinks, disappearing like that--
And now, as he turns, looks up at WILLIE--
CUT TO
PORKY. CLOSE UP. And the anger goes, replaced by surprise.
PORKY
(soft)
Willie... that's a beautiful haircut.
And now, at last--
CUT TO
WILLIE, and what PORKY says is true: The scruffy figure that left the playground two hours ago has been replaced by a great-looking kid.
WILLIE
... it is?...
CUT TO
PORKY. He makes a nod.
CUT TO
PORKY
You look fantastic.
CUT TO
A SCHOOL WINDOW as WILLIE takes a long look at himself, PORKY reflected alongside. There is a pause, then--
WILLIE
(a little nod)
I guess I do....
Now, from the TWO of them reflected in the window--
CUT TO
THE TWO OF THEM jogging home, dusk. The street is lined with ordinary-looking houses. PORKY waves, veers off into one. WILLIE waves back, heads for the next. He slows as he approaches it, reaches into a pocket, takes out a small harmonica. He tries playing "Jingle Bells," doesn't do it very well, shrugs, throws open the back door, and we CUT TO
CHUNKS OF CARROTS being plopped into a large pot of thick, bubbling stew.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL
THE KITCHEN as WILLIE enters. His mother, EMMA, is working the stove like Toscanini, moving from burner to oven and back. She's a slightly pudgy woman, probably the same age as her husband--mid-forties.
EMMA
(stirring the stew)
How's the new one?
WILLIE
(moving close, turning for inspection)
Take a peek.
EMMA
(delighted)
Look at the glamour boy.
WILLIE
His name's H. Bimbaum--
EMMA
--nice name--
WILLIE
--father's already hired him.
CUT TO
EMMA, pulling open the oven a speck, checking on the progress of some freshly baked bread.
EMMA
Naturally. The man is obviously a craftsman.
CUT TO
WILLIE. His voice going soft.
WILLIE
You want to know what he said about Father? He said Father was a butcher.
EMMA
(shrugs)
That's strong language--your father isn't exactly a butcher--but he isn't a craftsman either.
There is the sound now of the front door opening and closing.
MORRIS'S VOICE (OVER)
Everybody is where?
EMMA
(calling out)
Give a guess.
CUT TO
MORRIS actually bounding into the kitchen--he seems very excited.
MORRIS
Ho-ho, have I got a surprise--
(now he gestures behind him)
CUT TO
BIMBAUM, a small battered suitcase in hand, standing behind MORRIS.
MORRIS
--Bimbaum here is going to rent the spare room, meals extra. Bimbaum, my wife, Emma.
They nod.
EMMA
You gave my Willie here a fine cut.
BIMBAUM
Of course; where's my room?
EMMA
(points toward the back stairs)
Where's your luggage?
BIMBAUM holds up his small bag.
That's all?
BIMBAUM
What am I, a fairy princess who needs a ball gown? I'm a barber. A barber needs a few clothes and a bunch of scissors. What more luggage?
EMMA
Willie will show you the room.
BIMBAUM
This place is so big I can't find it myself?
(he goes to the back stairs)
If I
get lost, I promise to holler for help.
CUT TO
EMMA, staring as he disappears. Now she turns on MORRIS.
EMMA
Ho-ho, some surprise; since when do we run a boardinghouse?
MORRIS
Since when do you object to a little extra money--business ain't so hot.
EMMA
Business is the same as always--and that man got the manners of a pig.
MORRIS
Maybe he ain't sociable, but, Emma, you should see him cut hair.
CUT TO
MORRIS, going to her now, taking her hands.
MORRIS
This afternoon, he did Mr. Dietrich, the postman, the one with a head like a nose. In ninety minutes, Mr. Dietrich was cute. The man's an artist, Emma, a real artist. Where else should he live?
EMMA hesitates, then takes a big wooden spoon, digs out a chunk of beef, gives it to MORRIS.
MORRIS
(eating the peace offering)
Perfection....
HOLD ON the TWO of them, then--
CUT TO
A PORCH OUTSIDE THE LIVING ROOM. WILLIE and PORKY are playing checkers. Some time has passed--WILLIE's hair is longer than before. It's night. EMMA joins them.
EMMA
(sinking into a chair)
I couldn't take any more.
WILLIE
They still at it?
(he turns, looks inside--)
CUT TO
THE LIVING ROOM. BIMBAUM and MORRIS are visible--MORRIS watching as BIMBAUM moves his scissors through the air, as if demonstrating something. MORRIS is studying everything BIMBAUM does.
CUT TO
THE PORCH.
EMMA
Ten nights in a row--what's so fascinating about scalp disease? How long can you talk about head shapes?
Adventures in the Screen Trade Page 34