Citizen Kane
Posté : 04 Déc 2008 21:55
Citizen Kane (1941)
by Herman J. Mankiewicz and Orson Welles.
Final script.
More info about this movie on imdb.com
PROLOGUE
FADE IN:
EXT. XANADU - FAINT DAWN - 1940 (MINIATURE)
Window, very small in the distance, illuminated.
All around this is an almost totally black screen. Now, as the camera
moves slowly towards the window which is almost a postage stamp in the
frame, other forms appear; barbed wire, cyclone fencing, and now,
looming up against an early morning sky, enormous iron grille work.
Camera travels up what is now shown to be a gateway of gigantic
proportions and holds on the top of it - a huge initial "K" showing
darker and darker against the dawn sky. Through this and beyond we
see the fairy-tale mountaintop of Xanadu, the great castle a
sillhouette as its summit, the little window a distant accent in the
darkness.
DISSOLVE:
(A SERIES OF SET-UPS, EACH CLOSER TO THE GREAT WINDOW, ALL TELLING
SOMETHING OF:)
The literally incredible domain of CHARLES FOSTER KANE.
Its right flank resting for nearly forty miles on the Gulf Coast, it
truly extends in all directions farther than the eye can see.
Designed by nature to be almost completely bare and flat - it was, as
will develop, practically all marshland when Kane acquired and changed
its face - it is now pleasantly uneven, with its fair share of rolling
hills and one very good-sized mountain, all man-made. Almost all the
land is improved, either through cultivation for farming purposes of
through careful landscaping, in the shape of parks and lakes. The
castle dominates itself, an enormous pile, compounded of several
genuine castles, of European origin, of varying architecture -
dominates the scene, from the very peak of the mountain.
DISSOLVE:
GOLF LINKS (MINIATURE)
Past which we move. The greens are straggly and overgrown, the
fairways wild with tropical weeds, the links unused and not seriously
tended for a long time.
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
WHAT WAS ONCE A GOOD-SIZED ZOO (MINIATURE)
Of the Hagenbeck type. All that now remains, with one exception, are
the individual plots, surrounded by moats, on which the animals are
kept, free and yet safe from each other and the landscape at large.
(Signs on several of the plots indicate that here there were once
tigers, lions, girrafes.)
DISSOLVE:
THE MONKEY TERRACE (MINIATURE)
In the foreground, a great obscene ape is outlined against the dawn
murk. He is scratching himself slowly, thoughtfully, looking out
across the estates of Charles Foster Kane, to the distant light
glowing in the castle on the hill.
DISSOLVE:
THE ALLIGATOR PIT (MINIATURE)
The idiot pile of sleepy dragons. Reflected in the muddy water - the
lighted window.
THE LAGOON (MINIATURE)
The boat landing sags. An old newspaper floats on the surface of the
water - a copy of the New York Enquirer." As it moves across the
frame, it discloses again the reflection of the window in the castle,
closer than before.
THE GREAT SWIMMING POOL (MINIATURE)
It is empty. A newspaper blows across the cracked floor of the tank.
DISSOLVE:
THE COTTAGES (MINIATURE)
In the shadows, literally the shadows, of the castle. As we move by,
we see that their doors and windows are boarded up and locked, with
heavy bars as further protection and sealing.
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
A DRAWBRIDGE (MINIATURE)
Over a wide moat, now stagnant and choked with weeds. We move across
it and through a huge solid gateway into a formal garden, perhaps
thirty yards wide and one hundred yards deep, which extends right up
to the very wall of the castle. The landscaping surrounding it has
been sloppy and causal for a long time, but this particular garden has
been kept up in perfect shape. As the camera makes its way through
it, towards the lighted window of the castle, there are revealed rare
and exotic blooms of all kinds. The dominating note is one of almost
exaggerated tropical lushness, hanging limp and despairing. Moss,
moss, moss. Ankor Wat, the night the last King died.
DISSOLVE:
THE WINDOW (MINIATURE)
Camera moves in until the frame of the window fills the frame of the
screen. Suddenly, the light within goes out. This stops the action
of the camera and cuts the music which has been accompanying the
sequence. In the glass panes of the window, we see reflected the
ripe, dreary landscape of Mr. Kane's estate behind and the dawn sky.
DISSOLVE:
INT. KANE'S BEDROOM - FAINT DAWN - 1940
A very long shot of Kane's enormous bed, silhouetted against the
enormous window.
DISSOLVE:
INT. KANE'S BEDROOM - FAINT DAWN - 1940
A snow scene. An incredible one. Big, impossible flakes of snow, a
too picturesque farmhouse and a snow man. The jingling of sleigh
bells in the musical score now makes an ironic reference to Indian
Temple bells - the music freezes -
KANE'S OLD OLD
VOICE
Rosebud...
The camera pulls back, showing the whole scene to be contained in one
of those glass balls which are sold in novelty stores all over the
world. A hand - Kane's hand, which has been holding the ball,
relaxes. The ball falls out of his hand and bounds down two carpeted
steps leading to the bed, the camera following. The ball falls off
the last step onto the marble floor where it breaks, the fragments
glittering in the first rays of the morning sun. This ray cuts an
angular pattern across the floor, suddenly crossed with a thousand
bars of light as the blinds are pulled across the window.
The foot of Kane's bed. The camera very close. Outlined against the
shuttered window, we can see a form - the form of a nurse, as she
pulls the sheet up over his head. The camera follows this action up
the length of the bed and arrives at the face after the sheet has
covered it.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
INT. OF A MOTION PICTURE PROJECTION ROOM
On the screen as the camera moves in are the words:
"MAIN TITLE"
Stirring, brassy music is heard on the soundtrack (which, of course,
sounds more like a soundtrack than ours.)
The screen in the projection room fills our screen as the second title
appears:
"CREDITS"
NOTE: Here follows a typical news digest short, one of the regular
monthly or bi-monthly features, based on public events or
personalities. These are distinguished from ordinary newsreels and
short subjects in that they have a fully developed editorial or
storyline. Some of the more obvious characteristics of the "March of
Time," for example, as well as other documentary shorts, will be
combined to give an authentic impression of this now familiar type of
short subject. As is the accepted procedure in these short subjects,
a narrator is used as well as explanatory titles.
FADE OUT:
NEWS DIGEST
NARRATOR
Legendary was the Xanadu where Kubla
Kahn decreed his stately pleasure
dome -
(with quotes in his voice)
"Where twice five miles of fertile
ground, with walls and towers were
girdled 'round."
(dropping the quotes)
Today, almost as legendary is Florida's
XANADU - world's largest private
pleasure ground. Here, on the deserts
of the Gulf Coast, a private mountain
was commissioned, successfully built
for its landlord. Here in a private
valley, as in the Coleridge poem,
"blossoms many an incense-bearing tree."
Verily, "a miracle of rare device."
U.S.A.
CHARLES FOSTER KANE
Opening shot of great desolate expanse of Florida coastline (1940 -
DAY)
DISSOLVE:
Series of shots showing various aspects of Xanadu, all as they might
be photographed by an ordinary newsreel cameraman - nicely
photographed, but not atmospheric to the extreme extent of the
Prologue (1940).
NARRATOR
(dropping the quotes)
Here, for Xanadu's landlord, will be
held 1940's biggest, strangest funeral;
here this week is laid to rest a potent
figure of our Century - America's Kubla
Kahn - Charles Foster Kane.
In journalism's history, other names
are honored more than Charles Foster
Kane's, more justly revered. Among
publishers, second only to James Gordon
Bennet the First: his dashing, expatriate
son; England's Northcliffe and Beaverbrook;
Chicago's Patterson and McCormick;
TITLE:
TO FORTY-FOUR MILLION U.S. NEWS BUYERS, MORE NEWSWORTHY THAN THE NAMES
IN HIS OWN HEADLINES, WAS KANE HIMSELF, GREATEST NEWSPAPER TYCOON OF
THIS OR ANY OTHER GENERATION.
Shot of a huge, screen-filling picture of Kane. Pull back to show
that it is a picture on the front page of the "Enquirer," surrounded
by the reversed rules of mourning, with masthead and headlines. (1940)
DISSOLVE:
A great number of headlines, set in different types and different
styles, obviously from different papers, all announcing Kane's death,
all appearing over photographs of Kane himself (perhaps a fifth of the
headlines are in foreign languages). An important item in connection
with the headlines is that many of them - positively not all - reveal
passionately conflicting opinions about Kane. Thus, they contain
variously the words "patriot," "democrat," "pacifist," "war-monger,"
"traitor," "idealist," "American," etc.
TITLE:
1895 TO 1940 - ALL OF THESE YEARS HE COVERED, MANY OF THESE YEARS HE
WAS.
Newsreel shots of San Francisco during and after the fire, followed by
shots of special trains with large streamers: "Kane Relief
Organization." Over these shots superimpose the date - 1906.
Artist's painting of Foch's railroad car and peace negotiators, if
actual newsreel shot unavailable. Over this shot sumperimpose the
date - 1918.
NARRATOR
Denver's Bonfils and Sommes; New York's
late, great Joseph Pulitzer; America's
emperor of the news syndicate, another
editorialist and landlord, the still
mighty and once mightier Hearst. Great
names all of them - but none of them so
loved, hated, feared, so often spoken -
as Charles Foster Kane.
The San Francisco earthquake. First with
the news were the Kane papers. First with
Relief of the Sufferers, First with the
news of their Relief of the Sufferers.
Kane papers scoop the world on the
Armistice - publish, eight hours before
competitors, complete details of the
Armistice teams granted the Germans by
Marshall Foch from his railroad car in the
Forest of Compeigne.
For forty years appeared in Kane newsprint
no public issue on which Kane papers took
no stand.
No public man whom Kane himself did not
support or denounce - often support, then
denounce.
Its humble beginnings, a dying dailey -
Shots with the date - 1898 (to be supplied)
Shots with the date - 1910 (to be supplied)
Shots with the date - 1922 (to be supplied)
Headlines, cartoons, contemporary newreels or stills of the following:
1. WOMAN SUFFRAGE
The celebrated newsreel shot of about 1914.
2. PROHIBITION
Breaking up of a speakeasy and such.
3. T.V.A.
4. LABOR RIOTS
Brief clips of old newreel shots of William Jennings Bryan, Theodore
Roosevelt, Stalin, Walter P. Thatcher, Al Smith, McKinley, Landon,
Franklin D. Roosevelt and such. Also, recent newsreels of the elderly
Kane with such Nazis as Hitler and Goering; and England's Chamberlain
and Churchill.
Shot of a ramshackle building with old-fashioned presses showing
through plate glass windows and the name "Enquirer" in old-fashioned
gold letters. (1892)
DISSOLVE:
NARRATOR
Kane's empire, in its glory, held
dominion over thirty-seven newpapers,
thirteen magazines, a radio network.
An empire upon an empire. The first
of grocery stores, paper mills,
apartment buildings, factories, forests,
ocean-liners -
An empire through which for fifty years
flowed, in an unending stream, the wealth
of the earth's third richest gold mine...
Famed in American legend is the origin
of the Kane fortune... How, to boarding
housekeeper Mary Kane, by a defaulting
boarder, in 1868 was left the supposedly
worthless deed to an abandoned mine shaft:
The Colorado Lode.
The magnificent Enquirer Building of today.
1891-1911 - a map of the USA, covering the entire screen, which in
animated diagram shows the Kane publications spreading from city to
city. Starting from New York, minature newboys speed madly to
Chicago, Detroit, St. Louis, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Washington,
Atlanta, El Paso, etc., screaming "Wuxtry, Kane Papers, Wuxtry."
Shot of a large mine going full blast, chimneys belching smoke, trains
moving in and out, etc. A large sign reads "Colorado Lode Mining Co."
(1940) Sign reading; "Little Salem, CO - 25 MILES."
DISSOLVE:
An old still shot of Little Salem as it was 70 years ago (identified
by copper-plate caption beneath the still). (1870)
Shot of early tintype stills of Thomas Foster Kane and his wife, Mary,
on their wedding day. A similar picture of Mary Kane some four or
five years later with her little boy, Charles Foster Kane.
NARRATOR
Fifty-seven years later, before a
Congressional Investigation, Walter P.
Thatcher, grand old man of Wall Street,
for years chief target of Kane papers'
attack on "trusts," recalls a journey
he made as a youth...
Shot of Capitol, in Washington D.C.
Shot of Congressional Investigating Committee (reproduction of
existing J.P. Morgan newsreel). This runs silent under narration.
Walter P. Thatcher is on the stand. He is flanked by his son, Walter
P. Thatcher Jr., and other partners. He is being questioned by some
Merry Andrew congressmen. At this moment, a baby alligator has just
been placed in his lap, causing considerable confusion and
embarrassment.
Newsreel close-up of Thatcher, the soundtrack of which now fades in.
THATCHER
... because of that trivial incident...
INVESTIGATOR
It is a fact, however, is it not, that
in 1870, you did go to Colorado?
THATCHER
I did.
INVESTIGATOR
In connection with the Kane affairs?
THATCHER
Yes. My firm had been appointed
trustees by Mrs. Kane for the fortune,
which she had recently acquired. It
was her wish that I should take charge
of this boy, Charles Foster Kane.
NARRATOR
That same month in Union Square -
INVESTIGATOR
Is it not a fact that on that occasion,
the boy personally attacked you after
striking you in the stomach with a sled?
Loud laughter and confusion.
THATCHER
Mr. Chairman, I will read to this
committee a prepared statement I have
brought with me - and I will then refuse
to answer any further questions. Mr.
Johnson, please!
A young assistant hands him a sheet of paper from a briefcase.
THATCHER
(reading it)
"With full awareness of the meaning of
my words and the responsibility of what
I am about to say, it is my considered
belief that Mr. Charles Foster Kane, in
every essence of his social beliefs and
by the dangerous manner in which he has
persistently attacked the American
traditions of private property, initiative
and opportunity for advancement, is - in
fact - nothing more or less than a
Communist."
Newsreel of Union Square meeting, section of crowd carrying banners
urging the boycott of Kane papers. A speaker is on the platform above
the crowd.
SPEAKER
(fading in on soundtrack)
- till the words "Charles Foster Kane"
are a menace to every working man in
this land. He is today what he has
always been and always will be - A
FASCIST!
NARRATOR
And yet another opinion - Kane's own.
Silent newsreel on a windy platform, flag-draped, in front of the
magnificent Enquirer building. On platform, in full ceremonial dress,
is Charles Foster Kane. He orates silently.
TITLE:
"I AM, HAVE BEEN, AND WILL BE ONLY ONE THING - AN AMERICAN." CHARLES
FOSTER KANE.
Same locale, Kane shaking hands out of frame.
Another newsreel shot, much later, very brief, showing Kane, older and
much fatter, very tired-looking, seated with his second wife in a
nightclub. He looks lonely and unhappy in the midst of the gaiety.
NARRATOR
Twice married, twice divorced - first
to a president's niece, Emily Norton -
today, by her second marriage, chatelaine
of the oldest of England's stately homes.
Sixteen years after that - two weeks after
his divorce from Emily Norton - Kane
married Susan Alexander, singer, at the
Town Hall in Trenton, New Jersey.
TITLE:
FEW PRIVATE LIVES WERE MORE PUBLIC.
Period still of Emily Norton (1900).
DISSOLVE:
Reconstructed silent newsreel. Kane, Susan, and Bernstein emerging
from side doorway of City Hall into a ring of press photographers,
reporters, etc. Kane looks startled, recoils for an instance, then
charges down upon the photographers, laying about him with his stick,
smashing whatever he can hit.
NARRATOR
For wife two, one-time opera singing
Susan Alexander, Kane built Chicago's
Municipal Opera House. Cost: three
million dollars. Conceived for Susan
Alexander Kane, half-finished before
she divorced him, the still unfinished
Xanadu. Cost: no man can say.
Still of architect's sketch with typically glorified "rendering" of
the Chicago Municipal Opera House.
DISSOLVE:
A glamorous shot of the almost-finished Xanadu, a magnificent
fairy-tale estate built on a mountain. (1920)
Then shots of its preparation. (1917)
Shots of truck after truck, train after train, flashing by with
tremendous noise.
Shots of vast dredges, steamshovels.
Shot of ship standing offshore unloading its lighters.
In quick succession, shots follow each other, some reconstructed, some
in miniature, some real shots (maybe from the dam projects) of
building, digging, pouring concrete, etc.
NARRATOR
One hundred thousand trees, twenty
thousand tons of marble, are the
ingredients of Xanadu's mountain.
Xanadu's livestock: the fowl of the
air, the fish of the sea, the beast
of the field and jungle - two of each;
the biggest private zoo since Noah.
Contents of Kane's palace: paintings,
pictures, statues, the very stones of
many another palace, shipped to Florida
from every corner of the earth, from
other Kane houses, warehouses, where
they mouldered for years. Enough for
ten museums - the loot of the world.
More shots as before, only this time we see (in miniature) a large
mountain - at different periods in its development - rising out of the
sands.
Shots of elephants, apes, zebras, etc. being herded, unloaded,
shipped, etc. in various ways.
Shots of packing cases being unloaded from ships, from trains, from
trucks, with various kinds of lettering on them (Italian, Arabian,
Chinese, etc.) but all consigned to Charles Foster Kane, Xanadu,
Florida.
A reconstructed still of Xanadu - the main terrace. A group of
persons in clothes of the period of 1917. In their midst, clearly
recognizable, are Kane and Susan.
NARRATOR
Kane urged his country's entry into
one war, opposed participation in
another. Swung the election to one
American President at least, was
called another's assassin. Thus,
Kane's papers might never have
survived - had not the President.
TITLE:
FROM XANADU, FOR THE PAST TWENTY-FIVE YEARS, ALL KANE ENTERPRISES HAVE
BEEN DIRECTED, MANY OF THE NATIONS DESTINIES SHAPED.
Shots of various authentically worded headlines of American papers
since 1895.
Spanish-American War shots. (1898)
A graveyard in France of the World War and hundreds of crosses. (1919)
Old newsreels of a political campaign.
Insert of a particularly virulent headline and/or cartoon.
HEADLINE: "PRESIDENT SHOT"
NARRATOR
Kane, molder of mass opinion though he
was, in all his life was never granted
elective office by the voters of his
country.
Few U.S. news publishers have been.
Few, like one-time Congressman Hearst,
have ever run for any office - most know
better - conclude with other political
observers that one man's press has power
enough for himself. But Kane papers were
once strong indeed, and once the prize
seemed almost his. In 1910, as Independent
Candidate for governor, the best elements
of the state behind him - the White House
seemingly the next easy step in a lightning
political career -
Night shot of crowd burning Charles Foster Kane in effigy. The dummy
bears a grotesque, comic resemblance to Kane. It is tossed into the
flames, which burn up -
- and then down... (1910)
FADE OUT:
TITLE:
IN POLITICS - ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID, NEVER A BRIDE
Newsreel shots of great crowds streaming into a building - Madison
Square Garden - then shots inside the vast auditorium, at one end of
which is a huge picture of Kane. (1910)
Shot of box containing the first Mrs. Kane and young Howard Kane, age
five. They are acknowledging the cheers of the crowd. (Silent Shot)
(1910)
Newreel shot of dignitaries on platform, with Kane, alongside of
speaker's table, beaming, hand upraised to silence the crowd. (Silent
Shot) (1910)
NARRATOR
Then, suddenly - less than one week
before election - defeat! Shameful,
ignominious - defeat that set back
for twenty years the cause of reform
in the U.S., forever cancelled political
chances for Charles Foster Kane.
Then, in the third year of the Great
Depression... As to all publishers, it
sometimes must - to Bennett, to Munsey
and Hearst it did - a paper closes! For
Kane, in four short years: collapse!
Eleven Kane papers, four Kane magazines
merged, more sold, scrapped -
Newreel shot - closeup of Kane delivering a speech... (1910)
The front page of a contemporary paper - a screaming headline. Twin
phots of Kane and Susan. (1910)
Printed title about Depression.
Once more repeat the map of the USA 1932-1939. Suddenly, the cartoon
goes into reverse, the empire begins to shrink, illustrating the
narrator's words.
The door of a newspaper office with the signs: "Closed."
NARRATOR
Then four long years more - alone in
his never-finished, already decaying,
pleasure palace, aloof, seldom visited,
never photographed, Charles Foster Kane
continued to direct his falling empire
... vainly attempting to sway, as he
once did, the destinies of a nation that
has ceased to listen to him ... ceased
to trust him...
Shots of Xanadu. (1940)
Series of shots, entirely modern, but rather jumpy and obviously
bootlegged, showing Kane in a bath chair, swathed in summer rugs,
being perambulated through his rose garden, a desolate figure in the
sunshine. (1935)
NARRATOR
Last week, death came to sit upon the
throne of America's Kubla Khan - last
week, as it must to all men, death came
to Charles Foster Kane.
DISSOLVE:
Cabinent Photograph (Full Screen) of Kane as an old, old man. This
image remains constant on the screen (as camera pulls back, taking in
the interior of a dark projection room.
INT. PROJECTION ROOM - DAY - 1940
A fairly large one, with a long throw to the screen. It is dark.
The image of Kane as an old man remains constant on the screen as
camera pulls back, slowly taking in and registering Projection Room.
This action occurs, however, only after the first few lines of
encuring dialogue have been spoken. The shadows of the men speaking
appear as they rise from their chairs - black against the image of
Kane's face on the screen.
NOTE: These are the editors of a "News Digest" short, and of the
Rawlston magazines. All his enterprises are represented in the
projection room, and Rawlston himself, that great man, is present also
and will shortly speak up.
During the entire course of this scene, nobody's face is really seen.
Sections of their bodies are picked out by a table light, a silhouette
is thrown on the screen, and their faces and bodies are themselves
thrown into silhouette against the brilliant slanting rays of light
from the projection room.
A Third Man is on the telephone. We see a corner of his head and the
phone.
THIRD MAN
(at phone)
Stand by. I'll tell you if we want
to run it again.
(hangs up)
THOMPSON'S VOICE
Well?
A short pause.
A MAN'S VOICE
It's a tough thing to do in a newsreel.
Seventy years of a man's life -
Murmur of highly salaried assent at this. Rawlston walks toward
camera and out of the picture. Others are rising. Camera during all
of this, apparently does its best to follow action and pick up faces,
but fails. Actually, all set-ups are to be planned very carefully to
exclude the element of personality from this scene; which is expressed
entirely by voices, shadows, sillhouettes and the big, bright image of
Kane himself on the screen.
A VOICE
See what Arthur Ellis wrote about him
in the American review?
THIRD MAN
I read it.
THE VOICE
(its owner is already leaning
across the table, holding a
piece of paper under the desk
light and reading from it)
Listen: Kane is dead. He contributed
to the journalism of his day - the
talent of a mountebank, the morals of a
bootlegger, and the manners of a pasha.
He and his kind have almost succeeded in
transforming a once noble profession into
a seven percent security - no longer secure.
ANOTHER VOICE
That's what Arthur Ellis is writing now.
Thirty years ago, when Kane gave him his
chance to clean up Detroit and Chicago and
St. Louis, Kane was the greatest guy in the
world. If you ask me -
ANOTHER VOICE
Charles Foster Kane was a...
Then observations are made almost simultaneous.
RAWLSTON'S VOICE
Just a minute!
Camera moves to take in his bulk outlined against the glow from the
projection room.
RAWLSTON
What were Kane's last words?
A silence greets this.
RAWLSTON
What were the last words he said on
earth? Thompson, you've made us a
good short, but it needs character -
SOMEBODY'S VOICE
Motivation -
RAWLSTON
That's it - motivation. What made Kane
what he was? And, for that matter, what
was he? What we've just seen are the
outlines of a career - what's behind the
career? What's the man? Was he good or
bad? Strong or foolish? Tragic or silly?
Why did he do all those things? What was
he after?
(then, appreciating his point)
Maybe he told us on his death bed.
THOMPSON
Yes, and maybe he didn't.
RAWLSTON
Ask the question anyway, Thompson!
Build the picture around the question,
even if you can't answer it.
THOMPSON
I know, but -
RAWLSTON
(riding over him like any
other producer)
All we saw on that screen was a big
American -
A VOICE
One of the biggest.
RAWLSTON
(without pausing for this)
But how is he different from Ford?
Or Hearst for that matter? Or
Rockefeller - or John Doe?
A VOICE
I know people worked for Kane will tell
you - not only in the newspaper business
- look how he raised salaries. You don't
want to forget -
ANOTHER VOICE
You take his labor record alone, they
ought to hang him up like a dog.
RAWLSTON
I tell you, Thompson - a man's dying
words -
SOMEBODY'S VOICE
What were they?
Silence.
SOMEBODY'S VOICE
(hesitant)
Yes, Mr. Rawlston, what were Kane's
dying words?
RAWLSTON
(with disgust)
Rosebud!
A little ripple of laughter at this, which is promptly silenced by
Rawlston.
RAWLSTON
That's right.
A VOICE
Tough guy, huh?
(derisively)
Dies calling for Rosebud!
RAWLSTON
Here's a man who might have been
President. He's been loved and
hated and talked about as much as
any man in our time - but when he
comes to die, he's got something on
his mind called "Rosebud." What
does that mean?
ANOTHER VOICE
A racehorse he bet on once, probably,
that didn't come in - Rosebud!
RAWLSTON
All right. But what was the race?
There is a short silence.
RAWLSTON
Thompson!
THOMPSON
Yes, sir.
RAWLSTON
Hold this thing up for a week. Two
weeks if you have to...
THOMPSON
(feebly)
But don't you think if we release it
now - he's only been dead four days
- it might be better than if -
RAWLSTON
(decisively)
Nothing is ever better than finding
out what makes people tick. Go after
the people that knew Kane well. That
manager of his - the little guy,
Bernstein, those two wives, all the
people who knew him, had worked for
him, who loved him, who hated his guts -
(pauses)
I don't mean go through the City
Directory, of course -
The Third Man gives a hearty "yes-man" laugh.
THOMPSON
I'll get to it right away, Mr.
Rawlston.
RAWLSTON
(rising)
Good!
The camera from behind him, outlines his back against Kane's picture
on the screen.
RAWLSTON'S VOICE
(continued)
It'll probably turn out to be a very
simple thing...
FADE OUT:
NOTE: Now begins the story proper - the seach by Thompson for the
facts about Kane - his researches ... his interviews with the people
who knew Kane.
It is important to remember always that only at the very end of the
story is Thompson himself a personality. Until then, throughout the
picture, we photograph only Thompson's back, shoulders, or his shadow
- sometimes we only record his voice. He is not until the final scene
a "character". He is the personification of the search for the truth
about Charles Foster Kane. He is the investigator.
FADE IN:
EXT. CHEAP CABARET - "EL RANCHO" - ATLANTIC CITY - NIGHT - 1940
(MINIATURE) - RAIN
The first image to register is a sign:
"EL RANCHO"
FLOOR SHOW
SUSAN ALEXANDER KANE
TWICE NIGHTLY
These words, spelled out in neon, glow out of the darkness at the end
of the fade out. Then there is lightning which reveals a squalid
roof-top on which the sign stands. Thunder again, and faintly the
sound of music from within. A light glows from a skylight. The
camera moves to this and closes in. Through the splashes of rain, we
see through the skylight down into the interior of the cabaret.
Directly below us at a table sits the lone figure of a woman, drinking
by herself.
DISSOLVE:
INT. "EL RANCO" CABARET - NIGHT - 1940
Medium shot of the same woman as before, finishing the drink she
started to take above. It is Susie. The music, of course, is now
very loud. Thompson, his back to the camera, moves into the picture
in the close foreground. A Captain appears behind Susie, speaking
across her to Thompson.
THE CAPTAIN
(a Greek)
This is Mr. Thompson, Miss Alexander.
Susan looks up into Thompson's face. She is fifty, trying to look
much younger, cheaply blonded, in a cheap, enormously generous evening
dress. Blinking up into Thompson's face, she throws a crink into ther
mouth. Her eyes, which she thinks is keeping commandingly on his, are
bleared and watery.
SUSAN
(to the Captain)
I want another drink, John.
Low thunder from outside.
THE CAPTAIN
(seeing his chance)
Right away. Will you have something,
Mr. Thompson?
THOMPSON
(staring to sit down)
I'll have a highball.
SUSAN
(so insistently as to make
Thompson change his mind
and stand up again)
Who told you you could sit down here?
THOMPSON
Oh! I thought maybe we could have
a drink together?
SUSAN
Think again!
There is an awkward pause as Thompson looks from her to the Captain.
SUSAN
Why don't you people let me alone?
I'm minding my own business. You
mind yours.
THOMPSON
If you'd just let me talk to you
for a little while, Miss Alexander.
All I want to ask you...
SUSAN
Get out of here!
(almost hysterical)
Get out! Get out!
Thompson looks at the Captain, who shrugs his shoulders.
THOMPSON
I'm sorry. Maybe some other time -
If he thought he would get a response from Susan, who thinks she is
looking at him steelily, he realizes his error. He nods and walks
off, following the Captain out the door.
THE CAPTAIN
She's just not talking to anybody
from the newspapers, Mr. Thompson.
THOMPSON
I'm not from a newspaper exactly, I -
They have come upon a waiter standing in front of a booth.
THE CAPTAIN
(to the waiter)
Get her another highball.
THE WAITER
Another double?
THE CAPTAIN
(after a moment, pityingly)
Yes.
They walk to the door.
THOMPSON
She's plastered, isn't she?
THE CAPTAIN
She'll snap out of it. Why, until he
died, she'd just as soon talk about
Mr. Kane as about anybody. Sooner.
THOMPSON
I'll come down in a week or so and
see her again. Say, you might be able
to help me. When she used to talk
about Kane - did she ever happen to say
anything - about Rosebud?
THE CAPTAIN
Rosebud?
Thompson has just handed him a bill. The Captain pockets it.
THE CAPTAIN
Thank you, sir. As a matter of fact,
yesterday afternoon, when it was in
all the papers - I asked her. She
never heard of Rosebud.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
INT. THATCHER MEMORIAL LIBRARY - DAY - 1940
An excruciatingly noble interpretation of Mr. Thatcher himself
executed in expensive marble. He is shown seated on one of those
improbable Edwin Booth chairs and is looking down, his stone eyes
fixed on the camera.
We move down off of this, showing the impressive pedestal on which the
monument is founded. The words, "Walter Parks Thatcher" are
prominently and elegantly engraved thereon. Immediately below the
inscription we encounter, in a medium shot, the person of Bertha
Anderson, an elderly, manish spinnster, seated behind her desk.
Thompson, his hat in his hand, is standing before her. Bertha is on
the phone.
BERTHA
(into phone)
Yes. I'll take him in now.
(hangs up and looks at
Thompson)
The directors of the Thatcher Library
have asked me to remind you again of
the condition under which you may
inspect certain portions of Mr.
Thatcher's unpublished memoirs. Under
no circumstances are direct quotations
from his manuscript to be used by you.
THOMPSON
That's all right.
BERTHA
You may come with me.
Without watching whether he is following her or not, she rises and
starts towards a distant and imposingly framed door. Thompson, with a
bit of a sigh, follows.
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
INT. THE VAULT ROOM - THATCHER MEMORIAL LIBRARY - DAY - 1940
A room with all the warmth and charm of Napolean's tomb.
As we dissolve in, the door opens in and we see past Thompson's
shoulders the length of the room. Everything very plain, very much
made out of marble and very gloomy. Illumination from a skylight
above adds to the general air of expensive and classical despair. The
floor is marble, and there is a gigantic, mahogany table in the center
of everything. Beyond this is to be seen, sunk in the marble wall at
the far end of the room, the safe from which a guard, in a khaki
uniform, with a revolver holster at his hip, is extracting the journal
of Walter P. Thatcher. He brings it to Bertha as if he were the
guardian of a bullion shipment. During this, Bertha has been
speaking.
BERTHA
(to the guard)
Pages eighty-three to one hundred
and forty-two, Jennings.
GUARD
Yes, Miss Anderson.
BERTHA
(to Thompson)
You will confine yourself, it is our
understanding, to the chapter dealing
with Mr. Kane.
THOMPSON
That's all I'm interested in.
The guard has, by this time, delivered the precious journal. Bertha
places it reverently on the table before Thompson.
BERTHA
You will be required to leave this
room at four-thirty promptly.
She leaves. Thompson starts to light a cigarette. The guard shakes
his head. With a sigh, Thompson bends over to read the manuscript.
Camera moves down over his shoulder onto page of manuscript.
Manuscript, neatly and precisely written:
"CHARLES FOSTER KANE
WHEN THESE LINES APPEAR IN PRINT, FIFTY YEARS AFTER MY DEATH, I AM
CONFIDENT THAT THE WHOLE WORLD WILL AGREE WITH MY OPINION OF CHARLES
FOSTER KANE, ASSUMING THAT HE IS NOT THEN COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN, WHICH
I REGARD AS EXTREMELY LIKELY. A GOOD DEAL OF NONSENSE HAS APPEARED
ABOUT MY FIRST MEETING WITH KANE, WHEN HE WAS SIX YEARS OLD... THE
FACTS ARE SIMPLE. IN THE WINTER OF 1870..."
The camera has not held on the entire page. It has been following the
words with the same action that the eye does the reading. On the last
words, the white page of the paper
DISSOLVES INTO:
EXT. MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
The white of a great field of snow, seen from the angle of a parlor
window.
In the same position of the last word in above Insert, appears the
tiny figure of Charles Foster Kane, aged five (almost like an animated
cartoon). He is in the act of throwing a snowball at the camera. It
sails toward us and over our heads, out of scene.
Reverse angle - on the house featuring a large sign reading:
MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE
HIGH CLASS MEALS AND LODGING
INQUIRE WITHIN
Charles Kane's snowball hits the sign.
INT. PARLOR - MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Camera is angling through the window, but the window-frame is not cut
into scene. We see only the field of snow again, same angle as in
previous scene. Charles is manufacturing another snowball. Now -
Camera pulls back, the frame of the window appearing, and we are
inside the parlor of the boardinghouse. Mrs. Kane, aged about 28, is
looking out towards her son. Just as we take her in she speaks:
MRS. KANE
(calling out)
Be careful, Charles!
THATCHER'S VOICE
Mrs. Kane -
MRS. KANE
(calling out the window
almost on top of this)
Pull your muffler around your neck,
Charles -
But Charles, deliriously happy in the snow, is oblivious to this and
is running away. Mrs. Kane turns into camera and we see her face - a
strong face, worn and kind.
THATCHER'S VOICE
I think we'll have to tell him now -
Camera now pulls back further, showing Thatcher standing before a
table on which is his stove-pipe hat and an imposing multiplicity of
official-looking documents. He is 26 and, as might be expected, a
very stuffy young man, already very expensive and conservative
looking, even in Colorado.
MRS. KANE
I'll sign those papers -
KANE SR.
You people seem to forget that I'm
the boy's father.
At the sound of Kane Sr.'s voice, both have turned to him and the
camera pulls back still further, taking him in.
Kane Sr., who is the assistant curator in a livery stable, has been
groomed as elegantly as is likely for this meeting ever since
daybreak.
From outside the window can be heard faintly the wild and cheerful
cries of the boy, blissfully cavorting in the snow.
MRS. KANE
It's going to be done exactly the
way I've told Mr. Thatcher -
KANE SR.
If I want to, I can go to court.
A father has a right to -
THATCHER
(annoyed)
Mr. Kane, the certificates that Mr.
Graves left here are made out to Mrs.
Kane, in her name. Hers to do with
as she pleases -
KANE SR.
Well, I don't hold with signing my
boy away to any bank as guardian
just because -
MRS. KANE
(quietly)
I want you to stop all this nonsense,
Jim.
THATCHER
The Bank's decision in all matters
concerning his education, his place of
residence and similar subjects will be
final.
(clears his throat)
KANE SR.
The idea of a bank being the guardian -
Mrs. Kane has met his eye. Her triumph over him finds expression in
his failure to finish his sentence.
MRS. KANE
(even more quietly)
I want you to stop all this nonsense,
Jim.
THATCHER
We will assume full management of the
Colorado Lode - of which you, Mrs. Kane,
are the sole owner.
Kane Sr. opens his mouth once or twice, as if to say something, but
chokes down his opinion.
MRS. KANE
(has been reading past
Thatcher's shoulder as he
talked)
Where do I sign, Mr. Thatcher?
THATCHER
Right here, Mrs. Kane.
KANE SR.
(sulkily)
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Mrs. Kane lifts the quill pen.
KANE SR.
Mary, I'm asking you for the last
time - anyon'd think I hadn't been
a good husband and a -
Mrs. Kane looks at him slowly. He stops his speech.
THATCHER
The sum of fifty thousand dollars a
year is to be paid to yourself and
Mr. Kane as long as you both live,
and thereafter the survivor -
Mrs. Kane puts pen to the paper and signs.
KANE SR.
Well, let's hope it's all for the best.
MRS. KANE
It is. Go on, Mr. Thatcher -
Mrs. Kane, listening to Thatcher, of course has had her other ear bent
in the direction of the boy's voice. Thatcher is aware both of the
boy's voice, which is counter to his own, and of Mrs. Kane's divided
attention. As he pauses, Kane Sr. genteelly walks over to close the
window.
EXT. MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Kane Jr., seen from Kane Sr.'s position at the window. He is
advancing on the snowman, snowballs in his hands, dropping to one knee
the better to confound his adversary.
KANE
If the rebels want a fight boys,
let's give it to 'em!
He throws two snowballs, missing widely, and gets up and advances
another five feet before getting on his knees again.
KANE
The terms are underconditional
surrender. Up and at 'em! The
Union forever!
INT. PARLOR - MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Kane Sr. closes the window.
THATCHER
(over the boy's voice)
Everything else - the principal as
well as all monies earned - is to be
administered by the bank in trust for
your son, Charles Foster Kane, until
his twenty-fifth birthday, at which
time he is to come into complete
possession.
Mrs. Kane rises and goes to the window.
MRS. KANE
Go on, Mr. Thatcher.
Thatcher continues as she opens the window. His voice, as before, is
heard with overtones of the boy's.
EXT. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Kane Jr., seen from Mrs. Kane's position at the window. He is now
within ten feet of the snowman, with one snowball left which he is
holding back in his right hand.
KANE
You can't lick Andy Jackson! Old
Hickory, that's me!
He fires his snowball, well wide of the mark and falls flat on his
stomach, starting to crawl carefully toward the snowman.
THATCHER'S VOICE
It's nearly five, Mrs. Kane, don't
you think I'd better meet the boy -
INT. PARLOR - MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Mrs. Kane at the window. Thatcher is now standing at her side.
MRS. KANE
I've got his trunk all packed -
(she chokes a little)
I've it packed for a couple of weeks -
She can't say anymore. She starts for the hall day. Kane Sr., ill at
ease, has no idea of how to comfort her.
THATCHER
I've arranged for a tutor to meet
us in Chicago. I'd have brought
him along with me, but you were so
anxious to keep everything secret -
He stops as he realizes that Mrs. Kane has paid no attention to him
and, having opened the door, is already well into the hall that leads
to the side door of the house. He takes a look at Kane Sr., tightens
his lips and follows Mrs. Kane. Kane, shoulders thrown back like one
who bears defeat bravely, follows him.
EXT. MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Kane, in the snow-covered field. With the snowman between him and the
house, he is holding the sled in his hand, just about to make the
little run that prefaces a belly-flop. The Kane house, in the
background, is a dilapidated, shabby, two-story frame building, with a
wooden outhouse. Kane looks up as he sees the single file procession,
Mrs. Kane at its head, coming toward him.
KANE
H'ya, Mom.
Mrs. Kane smiles.
KANE
(gesturing at the snowman)
See, Mom? I took the pipe out of
his mouth. If it keeps on snowin',
maybe I'll make some teeth and -
MRS. KANE
You better come inside, son. You
and I have got to get you all ready
for - for -
THATCHER
Charles, my name is Mr. Thatcher -
MRS. KANE
This is Mr. Thatcher, Charles.
THATCHER
How do you do, Charles?
KANE SR.
He comes from the east.
KANE
Hello. Hello, Pop.
KANE SR.
Hello, Charlie!
MRS. KANE
Mr. Thatcher is going to take you on
a trip with him tonight, Charles.
You'll be leaving on Number Ten.
KANE SR.
That's the train with all the lights.
KANE
You goin', Mom?
THATCHER
Your mother won't be going right away,
Charles -
KANE
Where'm I going?
KANE SR.
You're going to see Chicago and New
York - and Washington, maybe...
Isn't he, Mr. Thatcher?
THATCHER
(heartily)
He certainly is. I wish I were a
little boy and going to make a trip
like that for the first time.
KANE
Why aren't you comin' with us, Mom?
MRS. KANE
We have to stay here, Charles.
KANE SR.
You're going to live with Mr. Thatcher
from now on, Charlie! You're going to
be rich. Your Ma figures - that is,
er - she and I have decided that this
isn't the place for you to grow up in.
You'll probably be the richest man in
America someday and you ought to -
MRS. KANE
You won't be lonely, Charles...
THATCHER
We're going to have a lot of good times
together, Charles... Really we are.
Kane stares at him.
THATCHER
Come on, Charles. Let's shake hands.
(extends his hand. Charles
continues to look at him)
Now, now! I'm not as frightening as
all that! Let's shake, what do you
say?
He reaches out for Charles's hand. Without a word, Charles hits him
in the stomach with the sled. Thatcher stumbles back a few feet,
gasping.
THATCHER
(with a sickly grin)
You almost hurt me, Charles.
(moves towards him)
Sleds aren't to hit people with.
Sleds are to - to sleigh on. When
we get to New York, Charles, we'll
get you a sled that will -
He's near enough to try to put a hand on Kane's shoulder. As he does,
Kane kicks him in the ankle.
MRS. KANE
Charles!
He throws himself on her, his arms around her. Slowly Mrs. Kane puts
her arms around him.
KANE
(frightened)
Mom! Mom!
MRS. KANE
It's all right, Charles, it's all
right.
Thatcher is looking on indignantly, occasionally bending over to rub
his ankle.
KANE SR.
Sorry, Mr. Thatcher! What the kid
needs is a good thrashing!
MRS. KANE
That's what you think, is it, Jim?
KANE SR.
Yes.
Mrs. Kane looks slowly at Mr. Kane.
MRS. KANE
(slowly)
That's why he's going to be brought
up where you can't get at him.
DISSOLVE:
1870 - NIGHT (STOCK OR MINIATURE)
Old-fashioned railroad wheels underneath a sleeper, spinning along the
track.
DISSOLVE:
INT. TRAIN - OLD-FASHIONED DRAWING ROOM - NIGHT - 1870
Thatcher, with a look of mingled exasperation, annoyance, sympathy and
inability to handle the situation, is standing alongside a berth,
looking at Kane. Kane, his face in the pillow, is crying with
heartbreaking sobs.
KANE
Mom! Mom!
DISSOLVE OUT:
The white page of the Thatcher manuscript. We pick up the words:
"HE WAS, I REPEAT, A COMMON ADVENTURER, SPOILED, UNSCRUPULOUS,
IRRESPONSIBLE."
The words are followed by printed headline on "Enquirer" copy (as in
following scene).
INT. ENQUIRER CITY ROOM - DAY - 1898
Close-up on printed headline which reads:
"ENEMY ARMADA OFF JERSEY COAST"
Camera pulls back to reveal Thatcher holding the "Enquirer" copy, on
which we read the headline. He is standing near the editorial round
table around which a section of the staff, including Reilly, Leland
and Kane are eating lunch.
THATCHER
(coldly)
Is that really your idea of how to
run a newspaper?
KANE
I don't know how to run a newspaper,
Mr. Thatcher. I just try everything
I can think of.
THATCHER
(reading headline of paper
he is still holding)
"Enemy Armada Off Jersey Coast." You
know you haven't the slightest proof
that this - this armada - is off the
Jersey Coast.
KANE
Can you prove it isn't?
Bernstein has come into the picture. He has a cable in his hand. He
stops when he sees Thatcher.
KANE
Mr. Bernstein, Mr. Thatcher -
BERNSTEIN
How are you, Mr. Thatcher?
THATCHER
How do you do? -
BERNSTEIN
We just had a wire from Cuba, Mr. Kane -
(stops, embarrassed)
KANE
That's all right. We have no secrets
from our readers. Mr. Thatcher is
one of our most devoted readers, Mr.
Bernstein. He knows what's wrong with
every issue since I've taken charge.
What's the cable?
BERNSTEIN
(reading)
The food is marvelous in Cuba the
senoritas are beautiful stop I could
send you prose poems of palm trees and
sunrises and tropical colors blending in
far off landscapes but don't feel right
in spending your money for this stop
there's no war in Cuba regards Wheeler.
THATCHER
You see! There hasn't been a true word -
KANE
I think we'll have to send our friend
Wheeler a cable, Mr. Bernstein. Of
course, we'll have to make it shorter
than his, because he's working on an
expense account and we're not. Let
me see -
(snaps his fingers)
Mike!
MIKE
(a fairly tough customer
prepares to take dictation,
his mouth still full of food)
Go ahead, Mr. Kane.
KANE
Dear Wheeler -
(pauses a moment)
You provide the prose poems - I'll
provide the war.
Laughter from the boys and girls at the table.
BERNSTEIN
That's fine, Mr. Kane.
KANE
I rather like it myself. Send it
right away.
MIKE
Right away.
BERNSTEIN
Right away.
Mike and Bernstein leave. Kane looks up, grinning at Thatcher, who is
bursting with indignation but controls himself. After a moment of
indecision, he decides to make one last try.
THATCHER
I came to see you, Charles, about
your - about the Enquirer's campaign
against the Metropolitan Transfer
Company.
KANE
Won't you step into my office, Mr.
Thatcher?
They cross the City Room together.
THATCHER
I think I should remind you, Charles,
of a fact you seem to have forgotten.
You are yourself one of the largest
individual stockholders.
INT. KANE'S OFFICE - DAY - 1898
Kane holds the door open for Thatcher. They come in together.
KANE
Mr. Thatcher, isn't everything I've
been saying in the Enquirer about
the traction trust absolutely true?
THATCHER
(angrily)
They're all part of your general
attack - your senseless attack -
on everything and everybody who's
got more than ten cents in his pocket.
They're -
KANE
The trouble is, Mr. Thatcher, you
don't realize you're talking to
two people.
Kane moves around behind his desk. Thatcher doesn't understand, looks
at him.
KANE
As Charles Foster Kane, who has eighty-two
thousand, six hundred
and thirty-one shares of Metropolitan
Transfer - you see, I do have a rough
idea of my holdings - I sympathize
with you. Charles Foster Kane is a
dangerous scoundrel, his paper should
be run out of town and a committee
should be formed to boycott him. You
may, if you can form such a committee,
put me down for a contribution of one
thousand dollars.
THATCHER
(angrily)
Charles, my time is too valuable for
me -
KANE
On the other hand -
(his manner becomes serious)
I am the publisher of the Enquirer.
As such, it is my duty - I'll let you
in on a little secret, it is also my
pleasure - to see to it that decent,
hard-working people of this city are
not robbed blind by a group of money-
mad pirates because, God help them,
they have no one to look after their
interests! I'll let you in on another
little secret, Mr. Thatcher. I think
I'm the man to do it. You see, I have
money and property -
Thatcher doesn't understand him.
KANE
If I don't defend the interests of
the underprivileged, somebody else
will - maybe somebody without any
money or any property and that would
be too bad.
Thatcher glares at him, unable to answer. Kane starts to dance.
KANE
Do you know how to tap, Mr. Thatcher?
You ought to learn -
(humming quietly, he
continues to dance)
Thatcher puts on his hat.
THATCHER
I happened to see your consolidated
statement yesterday, Charles. Could
I not suggest to you that it is
unwise for you to continue this
philanthropic enterprise -
(sneeringly)
this Enquirer - that is costing you
one million dollars a year?
KANE
You're right. We did lose a million
dollars last year.
Thatcher thinks maybe the point has registered.
KANE
We expect to lost a million next
year, too. You know, Mr. Thatcher -
(starts tapping quietly)
at the rate of a million a year -
we'll have to close this place in
sixty years.
DISSOLVE:
INT. THE VAULT ROOM - THATCHER MEMORIAL LIBRARY - DAY
Thompson - at the desk. With a gesture of annoyance, he is closing
the manuscript.
Camera arcs quickly around from over his shoulder to hold on door
behind him, missing his face as he rises and turns to confront Miss
Anderson, who has come into the room to shoo him out. Very prominent
on this wall is an over-sized oil painting of Thatcher in the best
Union League Club renaissance style.
MISS ANDERSON
You have enjoyed a very rare
privilege, young man. Did you find
what you were looking for?
THOMPSON
No. Tell me something, Miss Anderson.
You're not Rosebud, are you?
MISS ANDERSON
What?
THOMPSON
I didn't think you were. Well, thanks
for the use of the hall.
He puts his hat on his head and starts out, lighting a cigarette as he
goes. Miss Anderson, scandalized, watches him.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
INT. BERNSTEIN'S OFFICE - ENQUIRER SKYSCRAPER - DAY - 1940
Closeup of a still of Kane, aged about sixty-five. Camera pulls back,
showing it is a framed photograph on the wall. Over the picture are
crossed American flags. Under it sits Bernstein, back of his desk.
Bernstein, always an undersized Jew, now seems even smaller than in
his youth. He is bald as an egg, spry, with remarkably intense eyes.
As camera continues to travel back, the back of Thompson's head and
his shoulders come into the picture.
BERNSTEIN
(wryly)
Who's a busy man? Me? I'm Chairman
of the Board. I got nothing but time
... What do you want to know?
THOMPSON
(still explaining)
Well, Mr. Bernstein, you were with Mr.
Kane from the very beginning -
BERNSTEIN
From before the beginning, young fellow.
And now it's after the end.
(turns to Thompson)
Anything you want to know about him -
about the paper -
THOMPSON
- We thought maybe, if we can find out
what he meant by that last word - as he
was dying -
BERNSTEIN
That Rosebud? Maybe some girl? There
were a lot of them back in the early
days, and -
THOMPSON
Not some girl he knew casually and
then remembered after fifty years,
on his death bed -
BERNSTEIN
You're pretty young, Mr. -
(remembers the name)
Mr. Thompson. A fellow will remember
things you wouldn't think he'd remember.
You take me. One day, back in 1896, I
was crossing over to Jersey on a ferry
and as we pulled out, there was another
ferry pulling in -
(slowly)
- and on it, there was a girl waiting
to get off. A white dress she had on
- and she was carrying a white pastrol
- and I only saw her for one second and
she didn't see me at all - but I'll bet
a month hasn't gone by since that I
haven't thought of that girl.
(triumphantly)
See what I mean?
(smiles)
Well, so what are you doing about this
"Rosebud," Mr. Thompson.
THOMPSON
I'm calling on people who knew Mr. Kane.
I'm calling on you.
BERNSTEIN
Who else you been to see?
THOMPSON
Well, I went down to Atlantic City -
BERNSTEIN
Susie? I called her myself the day
after he died. I thought maybe
somebody ought to...
(sadly)
She couldn't even come to the 'phone.
THOMPSON
You know why? She was so -
BERNSTEIN
Sure, sure.
THOMPSON
I'm going back there.
BERNSTEIN
Who else did you see?
THOMPSON
Nobody else, but I've been through
that stuff of Walter Thatcher's.
That journal of his -
BERNSTEIN
Thatcher! That man was the biggest
darn fool I ever met -
THOMPSON
He made an awful lot of money.
BERNSTEIN
It's not trick to make an awful lot
of money if all you want is to make
a lot of money.
(his eyes get reflective)
Thatcher!
Bernstein looks out of the window and keeps on looking, seeming to see
something as he talks.
BERNSTEIN
He never knew there was anything in
the world but money. That kind of
fellow you can fool every day in the
week - and twice on Sundays!
(reflectively)
The time he came to Rome for Mr. Kane's
twenty-fifth birthday... You know,
when Mr. Kane got control of his own
money... Such a fool like Thatcher -
I tell you, nobody's business!
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
INT. BERNSTEIN'S OFFICE - DAY - 1940
Bernstein speaking to Thompson.
BERNSTEIN
He knew what he wanted, Mr. Kane did,
and he got it! Thatcher never did
figure him out. He was hard to figure
sometimes, even for me. Mr. Kane was
a genius like he said. He had that
funny sense of humor. Sometimes even
I didn't get the joke. Like that night
the opera house of his opened in
Chicago... You know, the opera house
he built for Susie, she should be an
opera singer...
(indicates with a little wave
of his hand what he thinks of
that; sighing)
That was years later, of course - 1914
it was. Mrs. Kane took the leading part
in the opera, and she was terrible. But
nobody had the nerve to say so - not even
the critics. Mr. Kane was a big man in
those days. But this one fellow, this
friend of his, Branford Leland -
He leaves the sentence up in the air, as we
DISSOLVE:
INT. CITY ROOM - CHICAGO ENQUIRER - NIGHT - 1914
It is late. The room is almost empty. Nobody is at work at the
desks. Bernstein, fifty, is waiting anxiously with a little group of
Kane's hirelings, most of them in evening dress with overcoats and
hats. Eveybody is tense and expectant.
CITY EDITOR
(turns to a young hireling;
quietly)
What about Branford Leland? Has he
got in his copy?
HIRELING
Not yet.
BERNSTEIN
Go in and ask him to hurry.
CITY EDITOR
Well, why don't you, Mr. Bernstein?
You know Mr. Leland.
BERNSTEIN
(looks at him for a moment;
then slowly)
I might make him nervous.
CITY EDITOR
(after a pause)
You and Leland and Mr. Kane - you were
great friends back in the old days, I
understand.
BERNSTEIN
(with a smile)
That's right. They called us the
"Three Musketeers."
Somebody behind Bernstein has trouble concealing his laughter. The
City Editor speaks quickly to cover the situation.
CITY EDITOR
He's a great guy - Leland.
(another little pause)
Why'd he ever leave New York?
BERNSTEIN
(he isn't saying)
That's a long story.
ANOTHER HIRELING
(a tactless one)
Wasn't there some sort of quarrel between -
BERNSTEIN
(quickly)
I had nothing to do with it.
(then, somberly)
It was Leland and Mr. Kane, and you
couldn't call it a quarrel exactly.
Better we should forget such things -
(turning to City Editor)
Leland is writing it up from the dramatic
angle?
CITY EDITOR
Yes. I thought it was a good idea.
We've covered it from the news end,
of course.
BERNSTEIN
And the social. How about the music
notice? You got that in?
CITY EDITOR
Oh, yes, it's already made up. Our
Mr. Mervin wrote a small review.
BERNSTEIN
Enthusiastic?
CITY EDITOR
Yes, very!
(quietly)
Naturally.
BERNSTEIN
Well, well - isn't that nice?
KANE'S VOICE
Mr. Bernstein -
Bernstein turns.
Medium long shot of Kane, now forty-nine, already quite stout. He is
in white tie, wearing his overcoat and carrying a folded opera hat.
BERNSTEIN
Hello, Mr. Kan
by Herman J. Mankiewicz and Orson Welles.
Final script.
More info about this movie on imdb.com
PROLOGUE
FADE IN:
EXT. XANADU - FAINT DAWN - 1940 (MINIATURE)
Window, very small in the distance, illuminated.
All around this is an almost totally black screen. Now, as the camera
moves slowly towards the window which is almost a postage stamp in the
frame, other forms appear; barbed wire, cyclone fencing, and now,
looming up against an early morning sky, enormous iron grille work.
Camera travels up what is now shown to be a gateway of gigantic
proportions and holds on the top of it - a huge initial "K" showing
darker and darker against the dawn sky. Through this and beyond we
see the fairy-tale mountaintop of Xanadu, the great castle a
sillhouette as its summit, the little window a distant accent in the
darkness.
DISSOLVE:
(A SERIES OF SET-UPS, EACH CLOSER TO THE GREAT WINDOW, ALL TELLING
SOMETHING OF:)
The literally incredible domain of CHARLES FOSTER KANE.
Its right flank resting for nearly forty miles on the Gulf Coast, it
truly extends in all directions farther than the eye can see.
Designed by nature to be almost completely bare and flat - it was, as
will develop, practically all marshland when Kane acquired and changed
its face - it is now pleasantly uneven, with its fair share of rolling
hills and one very good-sized mountain, all man-made. Almost all the
land is improved, either through cultivation for farming purposes of
through careful landscaping, in the shape of parks and lakes. The
castle dominates itself, an enormous pile, compounded of several
genuine castles, of European origin, of varying architecture -
dominates the scene, from the very peak of the mountain.
DISSOLVE:
GOLF LINKS (MINIATURE)
Past which we move. The greens are straggly and overgrown, the
fairways wild with tropical weeds, the links unused and not seriously
tended for a long time.
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
WHAT WAS ONCE A GOOD-SIZED ZOO (MINIATURE)
Of the Hagenbeck type. All that now remains, with one exception, are
the individual plots, surrounded by moats, on which the animals are
kept, free and yet safe from each other and the landscape at large.
(Signs on several of the plots indicate that here there were once
tigers, lions, girrafes.)
DISSOLVE:
THE MONKEY TERRACE (MINIATURE)
In the foreground, a great obscene ape is outlined against the dawn
murk. He is scratching himself slowly, thoughtfully, looking out
across the estates of Charles Foster Kane, to the distant light
glowing in the castle on the hill.
DISSOLVE:
THE ALLIGATOR PIT (MINIATURE)
The idiot pile of sleepy dragons. Reflected in the muddy water - the
lighted window.
THE LAGOON (MINIATURE)
The boat landing sags. An old newspaper floats on the surface of the
water - a copy of the New York Enquirer." As it moves across the
frame, it discloses again the reflection of the window in the castle,
closer than before.
THE GREAT SWIMMING POOL (MINIATURE)
It is empty. A newspaper blows across the cracked floor of the tank.
DISSOLVE:
THE COTTAGES (MINIATURE)
In the shadows, literally the shadows, of the castle. As we move by,
we see that their doors and windows are boarded up and locked, with
heavy bars as further protection and sealing.
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
A DRAWBRIDGE (MINIATURE)
Over a wide moat, now stagnant and choked with weeds. We move across
it and through a huge solid gateway into a formal garden, perhaps
thirty yards wide and one hundred yards deep, which extends right up
to the very wall of the castle. The landscaping surrounding it has
been sloppy and causal for a long time, but this particular garden has
been kept up in perfect shape. As the camera makes its way through
it, towards the lighted window of the castle, there are revealed rare
and exotic blooms of all kinds. The dominating note is one of almost
exaggerated tropical lushness, hanging limp and despairing. Moss,
moss, moss. Ankor Wat, the night the last King died.
DISSOLVE:
THE WINDOW (MINIATURE)
Camera moves in until the frame of the window fills the frame of the
screen. Suddenly, the light within goes out. This stops the action
of the camera and cuts the music which has been accompanying the
sequence. In the glass panes of the window, we see reflected the
ripe, dreary landscape of Mr. Kane's estate behind and the dawn sky.
DISSOLVE:
INT. KANE'S BEDROOM - FAINT DAWN - 1940
A very long shot of Kane's enormous bed, silhouetted against the
enormous window.
DISSOLVE:
INT. KANE'S BEDROOM - FAINT DAWN - 1940
A snow scene. An incredible one. Big, impossible flakes of snow, a
too picturesque farmhouse and a snow man. The jingling of sleigh
bells in the musical score now makes an ironic reference to Indian
Temple bells - the music freezes -
KANE'S OLD OLD
VOICE
Rosebud...
The camera pulls back, showing the whole scene to be contained in one
of those glass balls which are sold in novelty stores all over the
world. A hand - Kane's hand, which has been holding the ball,
relaxes. The ball falls out of his hand and bounds down two carpeted
steps leading to the bed, the camera following. The ball falls off
the last step onto the marble floor where it breaks, the fragments
glittering in the first rays of the morning sun. This ray cuts an
angular pattern across the floor, suddenly crossed with a thousand
bars of light as the blinds are pulled across the window.
The foot of Kane's bed. The camera very close. Outlined against the
shuttered window, we can see a form - the form of a nurse, as she
pulls the sheet up over his head. The camera follows this action up
the length of the bed and arrives at the face after the sheet has
covered it.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
INT. OF A MOTION PICTURE PROJECTION ROOM
On the screen as the camera moves in are the words:
"MAIN TITLE"
Stirring, brassy music is heard on the soundtrack (which, of course,
sounds more like a soundtrack than ours.)
The screen in the projection room fills our screen as the second title
appears:
"CREDITS"
NOTE: Here follows a typical news digest short, one of the regular
monthly or bi-monthly features, based on public events or
personalities. These are distinguished from ordinary newsreels and
short subjects in that they have a fully developed editorial or
storyline. Some of the more obvious characteristics of the "March of
Time," for example, as well as other documentary shorts, will be
combined to give an authentic impression of this now familiar type of
short subject. As is the accepted procedure in these short subjects,
a narrator is used as well as explanatory titles.
FADE OUT:
NEWS DIGEST
NARRATOR
Legendary was the Xanadu where Kubla
Kahn decreed his stately pleasure
dome -
(with quotes in his voice)
"Where twice five miles of fertile
ground, with walls and towers were
girdled 'round."
(dropping the quotes)
Today, almost as legendary is Florida's
XANADU - world's largest private
pleasure ground. Here, on the deserts
of the Gulf Coast, a private mountain
was commissioned, successfully built
for its landlord. Here in a private
valley, as in the Coleridge poem,
"blossoms many an incense-bearing tree."
Verily, "a miracle of rare device."
U.S.A.
CHARLES FOSTER KANE
Opening shot of great desolate expanse of Florida coastline (1940 -
DAY)
DISSOLVE:
Series of shots showing various aspects of Xanadu, all as they might
be photographed by an ordinary newsreel cameraman - nicely
photographed, but not atmospheric to the extreme extent of the
Prologue (1940).
NARRATOR
(dropping the quotes)
Here, for Xanadu's landlord, will be
held 1940's biggest, strangest funeral;
here this week is laid to rest a potent
figure of our Century - America's Kubla
Kahn - Charles Foster Kane.
In journalism's history, other names
are honored more than Charles Foster
Kane's, more justly revered. Among
publishers, second only to James Gordon
Bennet the First: his dashing, expatriate
son; England's Northcliffe and Beaverbrook;
Chicago's Patterson and McCormick;
TITLE:
TO FORTY-FOUR MILLION U.S. NEWS BUYERS, MORE NEWSWORTHY THAN THE NAMES
IN HIS OWN HEADLINES, WAS KANE HIMSELF, GREATEST NEWSPAPER TYCOON OF
THIS OR ANY OTHER GENERATION.
Shot of a huge, screen-filling picture of Kane. Pull back to show
that it is a picture on the front page of the "Enquirer," surrounded
by the reversed rules of mourning, with masthead and headlines. (1940)
DISSOLVE:
A great number of headlines, set in different types and different
styles, obviously from different papers, all announcing Kane's death,
all appearing over photographs of Kane himself (perhaps a fifth of the
headlines are in foreign languages). An important item in connection
with the headlines is that many of them - positively not all - reveal
passionately conflicting opinions about Kane. Thus, they contain
variously the words "patriot," "democrat," "pacifist," "war-monger,"
"traitor," "idealist," "American," etc.
TITLE:
1895 TO 1940 - ALL OF THESE YEARS HE COVERED, MANY OF THESE YEARS HE
WAS.
Newsreel shots of San Francisco during and after the fire, followed by
shots of special trains with large streamers: "Kane Relief
Organization." Over these shots superimpose the date - 1906.
Artist's painting of Foch's railroad car and peace negotiators, if
actual newsreel shot unavailable. Over this shot sumperimpose the
date - 1918.
NARRATOR
Denver's Bonfils and Sommes; New York's
late, great Joseph Pulitzer; America's
emperor of the news syndicate, another
editorialist and landlord, the still
mighty and once mightier Hearst. Great
names all of them - but none of them so
loved, hated, feared, so often spoken -
as Charles Foster Kane.
The San Francisco earthquake. First with
the news were the Kane papers. First with
Relief of the Sufferers, First with the
news of their Relief of the Sufferers.
Kane papers scoop the world on the
Armistice - publish, eight hours before
competitors, complete details of the
Armistice teams granted the Germans by
Marshall Foch from his railroad car in the
Forest of Compeigne.
For forty years appeared in Kane newsprint
no public issue on which Kane papers took
no stand.
No public man whom Kane himself did not
support or denounce - often support, then
denounce.
Its humble beginnings, a dying dailey -
Shots with the date - 1898 (to be supplied)
Shots with the date - 1910 (to be supplied)
Shots with the date - 1922 (to be supplied)
Headlines, cartoons, contemporary newreels or stills of the following:
1. WOMAN SUFFRAGE
The celebrated newsreel shot of about 1914.
2. PROHIBITION
Breaking up of a speakeasy and such.
3. T.V.A.
4. LABOR RIOTS
Brief clips of old newreel shots of William Jennings Bryan, Theodore
Roosevelt, Stalin, Walter P. Thatcher, Al Smith, McKinley, Landon,
Franklin D. Roosevelt and such. Also, recent newsreels of the elderly
Kane with such Nazis as Hitler and Goering; and England's Chamberlain
and Churchill.
Shot of a ramshackle building with old-fashioned presses showing
through plate glass windows and the name "Enquirer" in old-fashioned
gold letters. (1892)
DISSOLVE:
NARRATOR
Kane's empire, in its glory, held
dominion over thirty-seven newpapers,
thirteen magazines, a radio network.
An empire upon an empire. The first
of grocery stores, paper mills,
apartment buildings, factories, forests,
ocean-liners -
An empire through which for fifty years
flowed, in an unending stream, the wealth
of the earth's third richest gold mine...
Famed in American legend is the origin
of the Kane fortune... How, to boarding
housekeeper Mary Kane, by a defaulting
boarder, in 1868 was left the supposedly
worthless deed to an abandoned mine shaft:
The Colorado Lode.
The magnificent Enquirer Building of today.
1891-1911 - a map of the USA, covering the entire screen, which in
animated diagram shows the Kane publications spreading from city to
city. Starting from New York, minature newboys speed madly to
Chicago, Detroit, St. Louis, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Washington,
Atlanta, El Paso, etc., screaming "Wuxtry, Kane Papers, Wuxtry."
Shot of a large mine going full blast, chimneys belching smoke, trains
moving in and out, etc. A large sign reads "Colorado Lode Mining Co."
(1940) Sign reading; "Little Salem, CO - 25 MILES."
DISSOLVE:
An old still shot of Little Salem as it was 70 years ago (identified
by copper-plate caption beneath the still). (1870)
Shot of early tintype stills of Thomas Foster Kane and his wife, Mary,
on their wedding day. A similar picture of Mary Kane some four or
five years later with her little boy, Charles Foster Kane.
NARRATOR
Fifty-seven years later, before a
Congressional Investigation, Walter P.
Thatcher, grand old man of Wall Street,
for years chief target of Kane papers'
attack on "trusts," recalls a journey
he made as a youth...
Shot of Capitol, in Washington D.C.
Shot of Congressional Investigating Committee (reproduction of
existing J.P. Morgan newsreel). This runs silent under narration.
Walter P. Thatcher is on the stand. He is flanked by his son, Walter
P. Thatcher Jr., and other partners. He is being questioned by some
Merry Andrew congressmen. At this moment, a baby alligator has just
been placed in his lap, causing considerable confusion and
embarrassment.
Newsreel close-up of Thatcher, the soundtrack of which now fades in.
THATCHER
... because of that trivial incident...
INVESTIGATOR
It is a fact, however, is it not, that
in 1870, you did go to Colorado?
THATCHER
I did.
INVESTIGATOR
In connection with the Kane affairs?
THATCHER
Yes. My firm had been appointed
trustees by Mrs. Kane for the fortune,
which she had recently acquired. It
was her wish that I should take charge
of this boy, Charles Foster Kane.
NARRATOR
That same month in Union Square -
INVESTIGATOR
Is it not a fact that on that occasion,
the boy personally attacked you after
striking you in the stomach with a sled?
Loud laughter and confusion.
THATCHER
Mr. Chairman, I will read to this
committee a prepared statement I have
brought with me - and I will then refuse
to answer any further questions. Mr.
Johnson, please!
A young assistant hands him a sheet of paper from a briefcase.
THATCHER
(reading it)
"With full awareness of the meaning of
my words and the responsibility of what
I am about to say, it is my considered
belief that Mr. Charles Foster Kane, in
every essence of his social beliefs and
by the dangerous manner in which he has
persistently attacked the American
traditions of private property, initiative
and opportunity for advancement, is - in
fact - nothing more or less than a
Communist."
Newsreel of Union Square meeting, section of crowd carrying banners
urging the boycott of Kane papers. A speaker is on the platform above
the crowd.
SPEAKER
(fading in on soundtrack)
- till the words "Charles Foster Kane"
are a menace to every working man in
this land. He is today what he has
always been and always will be - A
FASCIST!
NARRATOR
And yet another opinion - Kane's own.
Silent newsreel on a windy platform, flag-draped, in front of the
magnificent Enquirer building. On platform, in full ceremonial dress,
is Charles Foster Kane. He orates silently.
TITLE:
"I AM, HAVE BEEN, AND WILL BE ONLY ONE THING - AN AMERICAN." CHARLES
FOSTER KANE.
Same locale, Kane shaking hands out of frame.
Another newsreel shot, much later, very brief, showing Kane, older and
much fatter, very tired-looking, seated with his second wife in a
nightclub. He looks lonely and unhappy in the midst of the gaiety.
NARRATOR
Twice married, twice divorced - first
to a president's niece, Emily Norton -
today, by her second marriage, chatelaine
of the oldest of England's stately homes.
Sixteen years after that - two weeks after
his divorce from Emily Norton - Kane
married Susan Alexander, singer, at the
Town Hall in Trenton, New Jersey.
TITLE:
FEW PRIVATE LIVES WERE MORE PUBLIC.
Period still of Emily Norton (1900).
DISSOLVE:
Reconstructed silent newsreel. Kane, Susan, and Bernstein emerging
from side doorway of City Hall into a ring of press photographers,
reporters, etc. Kane looks startled, recoils for an instance, then
charges down upon the photographers, laying about him with his stick,
smashing whatever he can hit.
NARRATOR
For wife two, one-time opera singing
Susan Alexander, Kane built Chicago's
Municipal Opera House. Cost: three
million dollars. Conceived for Susan
Alexander Kane, half-finished before
she divorced him, the still unfinished
Xanadu. Cost: no man can say.
Still of architect's sketch with typically glorified "rendering" of
the Chicago Municipal Opera House.
DISSOLVE:
A glamorous shot of the almost-finished Xanadu, a magnificent
fairy-tale estate built on a mountain. (1920)
Then shots of its preparation. (1917)
Shots of truck after truck, train after train, flashing by with
tremendous noise.
Shots of vast dredges, steamshovels.
Shot of ship standing offshore unloading its lighters.
In quick succession, shots follow each other, some reconstructed, some
in miniature, some real shots (maybe from the dam projects) of
building, digging, pouring concrete, etc.
NARRATOR
One hundred thousand trees, twenty
thousand tons of marble, are the
ingredients of Xanadu's mountain.
Xanadu's livestock: the fowl of the
air, the fish of the sea, the beast
of the field and jungle - two of each;
the biggest private zoo since Noah.
Contents of Kane's palace: paintings,
pictures, statues, the very stones of
many another palace, shipped to Florida
from every corner of the earth, from
other Kane houses, warehouses, where
they mouldered for years. Enough for
ten museums - the loot of the world.
More shots as before, only this time we see (in miniature) a large
mountain - at different periods in its development - rising out of the
sands.
Shots of elephants, apes, zebras, etc. being herded, unloaded,
shipped, etc. in various ways.
Shots of packing cases being unloaded from ships, from trains, from
trucks, with various kinds of lettering on them (Italian, Arabian,
Chinese, etc.) but all consigned to Charles Foster Kane, Xanadu,
Florida.
A reconstructed still of Xanadu - the main terrace. A group of
persons in clothes of the period of 1917. In their midst, clearly
recognizable, are Kane and Susan.
NARRATOR
Kane urged his country's entry into
one war, opposed participation in
another. Swung the election to one
American President at least, was
called another's assassin. Thus,
Kane's papers might never have
survived - had not the President.
TITLE:
FROM XANADU, FOR THE PAST TWENTY-FIVE YEARS, ALL KANE ENTERPRISES HAVE
BEEN DIRECTED, MANY OF THE NATIONS DESTINIES SHAPED.
Shots of various authentically worded headlines of American papers
since 1895.
Spanish-American War shots. (1898)
A graveyard in France of the World War and hundreds of crosses. (1919)
Old newsreels of a political campaign.
Insert of a particularly virulent headline and/or cartoon.
HEADLINE: "PRESIDENT SHOT"
NARRATOR
Kane, molder of mass opinion though he
was, in all his life was never granted
elective office by the voters of his
country.
Few U.S. news publishers have been.
Few, like one-time Congressman Hearst,
have ever run for any office - most know
better - conclude with other political
observers that one man's press has power
enough for himself. But Kane papers were
once strong indeed, and once the prize
seemed almost his. In 1910, as Independent
Candidate for governor, the best elements
of the state behind him - the White House
seemingly the next easy step in a lightning
political career -
Night shot of crowd burning Charles Foster Kane in effigy. The dummy
bears a grotesque, comic resemblance to Kane. It is tossed into the
flames, which burn up -
- and then down... (1910)
FADE OUT:
TITLE:
IN POLITICS - ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID, NEVER A BRIDE
Newsreel shots of great crowds streaming into a building - Madison
Square Garden - then shots inside the vast auditorium, at one end of
which is a huge picture of Kane. (1910)
Shot of box containing the first Mrs. Kane and young Howard Kane, age
five. They are acknowledging the cheers of the crowd. (Silent Shot)
(1910)
Newreel shot of dignitaries on platform, with Kane, alongside of
speaker's table, beaming, hand upraised to silence the crowd. (Silent
Shot) (1910)
NARRATOR
Then, suddenly - less than one week
before election - defeat! Shameful,
ignominious - defeat that set back
for twenty years the cause of reform
in the U.S., forever cancelled political
chances for Charles Foster Kane.
Then, in the third year of the Great
Depression... As to all publishers, it
sometimes must - to Bennett, to Munsey
and Hearst it did - a paper closes! For
Kane, in four short years: collapse!
Eleven Kane papers, four Kane magazines
merged, more sold, scrapped -
Newreel shot - closeup of Kane delivering a speech... (1910)
The front page of a contemporary paper - a screaming headline. Twin
phots of Kane and Susan. (1910)
Printed title about Depression.
Once more repeat the map of the USA 1932-1939. Suddenly, the cartoon
goes into reverse, the empire begins to shrink, illustrating the
narrator's words.
The door of a newspaper office with the signs: "Closed."
NARRATOR
Then four long years more - alone in
his never-finished, already decaying,
pleasure palace, aloof, seldom visited,
never photographed, Charles Foster Kane
continued to direct his falling empire
... vainly attempting to sway, as he
once did, the destinies of a nation that
has ceased to listen to him ... ceased
to trust him...
Shots of Xanadu. (1940)
Series of shots, entirely modern, but rather jumpy and obviously
bootlegged, showing Kane in a bath chair, swathed in summer rugs,
being perambulated through his rose garden, a desolate figure in the
sunshine. (1935)
NARRATOR
Last week, death came to sit upon the
throne of America's Kubla Khan - last
week, as it must to all men, death came
to Charles Foster Kane.
DISSOLVE:
Cabinent Photograph (Full Screen) of Kane as an old, old man. This
image remains constant on the screen (as camera pulls back, taking in
the interior of a dark projection room.
INT. PROJECTION ROOM - DAY - 1940
A fairly large one, with a long throw to the screen. It is dark.
The image of Kane as an old man remains constant on the screen as
camera pulls back, slowly taking in and registering Projection Room.
This action occurs, however, only after the first few lines of
encuring dialogue have been spoken. The shadows of the men speaking
appear as they rise from their chairs - black against the image of
Kane's face on the screen.
NOTE: These are the editors of a "News Digest" short, and of the
Rawlston magazines. All his enterprises are represented in the
projection room, and Rawlston himself, that great man, is present also
and will shortly speak up.
During the entire course of this scene, nobody's face is really seen.
Sections of their bodies are picked out by a table light, a silhouette
is thrown on the screen, and their faces and bodies are themselves
thrown into silhouette against the brilliant slanting rays of light
from the projection room.
A Third Man is on the telephone. We see a corner of his head and the
phone.
THIRD MAN
(at phone)
Stand by. I'll tell you if we want
to run it again.
(hangs up)
THOMPSON'S VOICE
Well?
A short pause.
A MAN'S VOICE
It's a tough thing to do in a newsreel.
Seventy years of a man's life -
Murmur of highly salaried assent at this. Rawlston walks toward
camera and out of the picture. Others are rising. Camera during all
of this, apparently does its best to follow action and pick up faces,
but fails. Actually, all set-ups are to be planned very carefully to
exclude the element of personality from this scene; which is expressed
entirely by voices, shadows, sillhouettes and the big, bright image of
Kane himself on the screen.
A VOICE
See what Arthur Ellis wrote about him
in the American review?
THIRD MAN
I read it.
THE VOICE
(its owner is already leaning
across the table, holding a
piece of paper under the desk
light and reading from it)
Listen: Kane is dead. He contributed
to the journalism of his day - the
talent of a mountebank, the morals of a
bootlegger, and the manners of a pasha.
He and his kind have almost succeeded in
transforming a once noble profession into
a seven percent security - no longer secure.
ANOTHER VOICE
That's what Arthur Ellis is writing now.
Thirty years ago, when Kane gave him his
chance to clean up Detroit and Chicago and
St. Louis, Kane was the greatest guy in the
world. If you ask me -
ANOTHER VOICE
Charles Foster Kane was a...
Then observations are made almost simultaneous.
RAWLSTON'S VOICE
Just a minute!
Camera moves to take in his bulk outlined against the glow from the
projection room.
RAWLSTON
What were Kane's last words?
A silence greets this.
RAWLSTON
What were the last words he said on
earth? Thompson, you've made us a
good short, but it needs character -
SOMEBODY'S VOICE
Motivation -
RAWLSTON
That's it - motivation. What made Kane
what he was? And, for that matter, what
was he? What we've just seen are the
outlines of a career - what's behind the
career? What's the man? Was he good or
bad? Strong or foolish? Tragic or silly?
Why did he do all those things? What was
he after?
(then, appreciating his point)
Maybe he told us on his death bed.
THOMPSON
Yes, and maybe he didn't.
RAWLSTON
Ask the question anyway, Thompson!
Build the picture around the question,
even if you can't answer it.
THOMPSON
I know, but -
RAWLSTON
(riding over him like any
other producer)
All we saw on that screen was a big
American -
A VOICE
One of the biggest.
RAWLSTON
(without pausing for this)
But how is he different from Ford?
Or Hearst for that matter? Or
Rockefeller - or John Doe?
A VOICE
I know people worked for Kane will tell
you - not only in the newspaper business
- look how he raised salaries. You don't
want to forget -
ANOTHER VOICE
You take his labor record alone, they
ought to hang him up like a dog.
RAWLSTON
I tell you, Thompson - a man's dying
words -
SOMEBODY'S VOICE
What were they?
Silence.
SOMEBODY'S VOICE
(hesitant)
Yes, Mr. Rawlston, what were Kane's
dying words?
RAWLSTON
(with disgust)
Rosebud!
A little ripple of laughter at this, which is promptly silenced by
Rawlston.
RAWLSTON
That's right.
A VOICE
Tough guy, huh?
(derisively)
Dies calling for Rosebud!
RAWLSTON
Here's a man who might have been
President. He's been loved and
hated and talked about as much as
any man in our time - but when he
comes to die, he's got something on
his mind called "Rosebud." What
does that mean?
ANOTHER VOICE
A racehorse he bet on once, probably,
that didn't come in - Rosebud!
RAWLSTON
All right. But what was the race?
There is a short silence.
RAWLSTON
Thompson!
THOMPSON
Yes, sir.
RAWLSTON
Hold this thing up for a week. Two
weeks if you have to...
THOMPSON
(feebly)
But don't you think if we release it
now - he's only been dead four days
- it might be better than if -
RAWLSTON
(decisively)
Nothing is ever better than finding
out what makes people tick. Go after
the people that knew Kane well. That
manager of his - the little guy,
Bernstein, those two wives, all the
people who knew him, had worked for
him, who loved him, who hated his guts -
(pauses)
I don't mean go through the City
Directory, of course -
The Third Man gives a hearty "yes-man" laugh.
THOMPSON
I'll get to it right away, Mr.
Rawlston.
RAWLSTON
(rising)
Good!
The camera from behind him, outlines his back against Kane's picture
on the screen.
RAWLSTON'S VOICE
(continued)
It'll probably turn out to be a very
simple thing...
FADE OUT:
NOTE: Now begins the story proper - the seach by Thompson for the
facts about Kane - his researches ... his interviews with the people
who knew Kane.
It is important to remember always that only at the very end of the
story is Thompson himself a personality. Until then, throughout the
picture, we photograph only Thompson's back, shoulders, or his shadow
- sometimes we only record his voice. He is not until the final scene
a "character". He is the personification of the search for the truth
about Charles Foster Kane. He is the investigator.
FADE IN:
EXT. CHEAP CABARET - "EL RANCHO" - ATLANTIC CITY - NIGHT - 1940
(MINIATURE) - RAIN
The first image to register is a sign:
"EL RANCHO"
FLOOR SHOW
SUSAN ALEXANDER KANE
TWICE NIGHTLY
These words, spelled out in neon, glow out of the darkness at the end
of the fade out. Then there is lightning which reveals a squalid
roof-top on which the sign stands. Thunder again, and faintly the
sound of music from within. A light glows from a skylight. The
camera moves to this and closes in. Through the splashes of rain, we
see through the skylight down into the interior of the cabaret.
Directly below us at a table sits the lone figure of a woman, drinking
by herself.
DISSOLVE:
INT. "EL RANCO" CABARET - NIGHT - 1940
Medium shot of the same woman as before, finishing the drink she
started to take above. It is Susie. The music, of course, is now
very loud. Thompson, his back to the camera, moves into the picture
in the close foreground. A Captain appears behind Susie, speaking
across her to Thompson.
THE CAPTAIN
(a Greek)
This is Mr. Thompson, Miss Alexander.
Susan looks up into Thompson's face. She is fifty, trying to look
much younger, cheaply blonded, in a cheap, enormously generous evening
dress. Blinking up into Thompson's face, she throws a crink into ther
mouth. Her eyes, which she thinks is keeping commandingly on his, are
bleared and watery.
SUSAN
(to the Captain)
I want another drink, John.
Low thunder from outside.
THE CAPTAIN
(seeing his chance)
Right away. Will you have something,
Mr. Thompson?
THOMPSON
(staring to sit down)
I'll have a highball.
SUSAN
(so insistently as to make
Thompson change his mind
and stand up again)
Who told you you could sit down here?
THOMPSON
Oh! I thought maybe we could have
a drink together?
SUSAN
Think again!
There is an awkward pause as Thompson looks from her to the Captain.
SUSAN
Why don't you people let me alone?
I'm minding my own business. You
mind yours.
THOMPSON
If you'd just let me talk to you
for a little while, Miss Alexander.
All I want to ask you...
SUSAN
Get out of here!
(almost hysterical)
Get out! Get out!
Thompson looks at the Captain, who shrugs his shoulders.
THOMPSON
I'm sorry. Maybe some other time -
If he thought he would get a response from Susan, who thinks she is
looking at him steelily, he realizes his error. He nods and walks
off, following the Captain out the door.
THE CAPTAIN
She's just not talking to anybody
from the newspapers, Mr. Thompson.
THOMPSON
I'm not from a newspaper exactly, I -
They have come upon a waiter standing in front of a booth.
THE CAPTAIN
(to the waiter)
Get her another highball.
THE WAITER
Another double?
THE CAPTAIN
(after a moment, pityingly)
Yes.
They walk to the door.
THOMPSON
She's plastered, isn't she?
THE CAPTAIN
She'll snap out of it. Why, until he
died, she'd just as soon talk about
Mr. Kane as about anybody. Sooner.
THOMPSON
I'll come down in a week or so and
see her again. Say, you might be able
to help me. When she used to talk
about Kane - did she ever happen to say
anything - about Rosebud?
THE CAPTAIN
Rosebud?
Thompson has just handed him a bill. The Captain pockets it.
THE CAPTAIN
Thank you, sir. As a matter of fact,
yesterday afternoon, when it was in
all the papers - I asked her. She
never heard of Rosebud.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
INT. THATCHER MEMORIAL LIBRARY - DAY - 1940
An excruciatingly noble interpretation of Mr. Thatcher himself
executed in expensive marble. He is shown seated on one of those
improbable Edwin Booth chairs and is looking down, his stone eyes
fixed on the camera.
We move down off of this, showing the impressive pedestal on which the
monument is founded. The words, "Walter Parks Thatcher" are
prominently and elegantly engraved thereon. Immediately below the
inscription we encounter, in a medium shot, the person of Bertha
Anderson, an elderly, manish spinnster, seated behind her desk.
Thompson, his hat in his hand, is standing before her. Bertha is on
the phone.
BERTHA
(into phone)
Yes. I'll take him in now.
(hangs up and looks at
Thompson)
The directors of the Thatcher Library
have asked me to remind you again of
the condition under which you may
inspect certain portions of Mr.
Thatcher's unpublished memoirs. Under
no circumstances are direct quotations
from his manuscript to be used by you.
THOMPSON
That's all right.
BERTHA
You may come with me.
Without watching whether he is following her or not, she rises and
starts towards a distant and imposingly framed door. Thompson, with a
bit of a sigh, follows.
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
INT. THE VAULT ROOM - THATCHER MEMORIAL LIBRARY - DAY - 1940
A room with all the warmth and charm of Napolean's tomb.
As we dissolve in, the door opens in and we see past Thompson's
shoulders the length of the room. Everything very plain, very much
made out of marble and very gloomy. Illumination from a skylight
above adds to the general air of expensive and classical despair. The
floor is marble, and there is a gigantic, mahogany table in the center
of everything. Beyond this is to be seen, sunk in the marble wall at
the far end of the room, the safe from which a guard, in a khaki
uniform, with a revolver holster at his hip, is extracting the journal
of Walter P. Thatcher. He brings it to Bertha as if he were the
guardian of a bullion shipment. During this, Bertha has been
speaking.
BERTHA
(to the guard)
Pages eighty-three to one hundred
and forty-two, Jennings.
GUARD
Yes, Miss Anderson.
BERTHA
(to Thompson)
You will confine yourself, it is our
understanding, to the chapter dealing
with Mr. Kane.
THOMPSON
That's all I'm interested in.
The guard has, by this time, delivered the precious journal. Bertha
places it reverently on the table before Thompson.
BERTHA
You will be required to leave this
room at four-thirty promptly.
She leaves. Thompson starts to light a cigarette. The guard shakes
his head. With a sigh, Thompson bends over to read the manuscript.
Camera moves down over his shoulder onto page of manuscript.
Manuscript, neatly and precisely written:
"CHARLES FOSTER KANE
WHEN THESE LINES APPEAR IN PRINT, FIFTY YEARS AFTER MY DEATH, I AM
CONFIDENT THAT THE WHOLE WORLD WILL AGREE WITH MY OPINION OF CHARLES
FOSTER KANE, ASSUMING THAT HE IS NOT THEN COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN, WHICH
I REGARD AS EXTREMELY LIKELY. A GOOD DEAL OF NONSENSE HAS APPEARED
ABOUT MY FIRST MEETING WITH KANE, WHEN HE WAS SIX YEARS OLD... THE
FACTS ARE SIMPLE. IN THE WINTER OF 1870..."
The camera has not held on the entire page. It has been following the
words with the same action that the eye does the reading. On the last
words, the white page of the paper
DISSOLVES INTO:
EXT. MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
The white of a great field of snow, seen from the angle of a parlor
window.
In the same position of the last word in above Insert, appears the
tiny figure of Charles Foster Kane, aged five (almost like an animated
cartoon). He is in the act of throwing a snowball at the camera. It
sails toward us and over our heads, out of scene.
Reverse angle - on the house featuring a large sign reading:
MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE
HIGH CLASS MEALS AND LODGING
INQUIRE WITHIN
Charles Kane's snowball hits the sign.
INT. PARLOR - MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Camera is angling through the window, but the window-frame is not cut
into scene. We see only the field of snow again, same angle as in
previous scene. Charles is manufacturing another snowball. Now -
Camera pulls back, the frame of the window appearing, and we are
inside the parlor of the boardinghouse. Mrs. Kane, aged about 28, is
looking out towards her son. Just as we take her in she speaks:
MRS. KANE
(calling out)
Be careful, Charles!
THATCHER'S VOICE
Mrs. Kane -
MRS. KANE
(calling out the window
almost on top of this)
Pull your muffler around your neck,
Charles -
But Charles, deliriously happy in the snow, is oblivious to this and
is running away. Mrs. Kane turns into camera and we see her face - a
strong face, worn and kind.
THATCHER'S VOICE
I think we'll have to tell him now -
Camera now pulls back further, showing Thatcher standing before a
table on which is his stove-pipe hat and an imposing multiplicity of
official-looking documents. He is 26 and, as might be expected, a
very stuffy young man, already very expensive and conservative
looking, even in Colorado.
MRS. KANE
I'll sign those papers -
KANE SR.
You people seem to forget that I'm
the boy's father.
At the sound of Kane Sr.'s voice, both have turned to him and the
camera pulls back still further, taking him in.
Kane Sr., who is the assistant curator in a livery stable, has been
groomed as elegantly as is likely for this meeting ever since
daybreak.
From outside the window can be heard faintly the wild and cheerful
cries of the boy, blissfully cavorting in the snow.
MRS. KANE
It's going to be done exactly the
way I've told Mr. Thatcher -
KANE SR.
If I want to, I can go to court.
A father has a right to -
THATCHER
(annoyed)
Mr. Kane, the certificates that Mr.
Graves left here are made out to Mrs.
Kane, in her name. Hers to do with
as she pleases -
KANE SR.
Well, I don't hold with signing my
boy away to any bank as guardian
just because -
MRS. KANE
(quietly)
I want you to stop all this nonsense,
Jim.
THATCHER
The Bank's decision in all matters
concerning his education, his place of
residence and similar subjects will be
final.
(clears his throat)
KANE SR.
The idea of a bank being the guardian -
Mrs. Kane has met his eye. Her triumph over him finds expression in
his failure to finish his sentence.
MRS. KANE
(even more quietly)
I want you to stop all this nonsense,
Jim.
THATCHER
We will assume full management of the
Colorado Lode - of which you, Mrs. Kane,
are the sole owner.
Kane Sr. opens his mouth once or twice, as if to say something, but
chokes down his opinion.
MRS. KANE
(has been reading past
Thatcher's shoulder as he
talked)
Where do I sign, Mr. Thatcher?
THATCHER
Right here, Mrs. Kane.
KANE SR.
(sulkily)
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Mrs. Kane lifts the quill pen.
KANE SR.
Mary, I'm asking you for the last
time - anyon'd think I hadn't been
a good husband and a -
Mrs. Kane looks at him slowly. He stops his speech.
THATCHER
The sum of fifty thousand dollars a
year is to be paid to yourself and
Mr. Kane as long as you both live,
and thereafter the survivor -
Mrs. Kane puts pen to the paper and signs.
KANE SR.
Well, let's hope it's all for the best.
MRS. KANE
It is. Go on, Mr. Thatcher -
Mrs. Kane, listening to Thatcher, of course has had her other ear bent
in the direction of the boy's voice. Thatcher is aware both of the
boy's voice, which is counter to his own, and of Mrs. Kane's divided
attention. As he pauses, Kane Sr. genteelly walks over to close the
window.
EXT. MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Kane Jr., seen from Kane Sr.'s position at the window. He is
advancing on the snowman, snowballs in his hands, dropping to one knee
the better to confound his adversary.
KANE
If the rebels want a fight boys,
let's give it to 'em!
He throws two snowballs, missing widely, and gets up and advances
another five feet before getting on his knees again.
KANE
The terms are underconditional
surrender. Up and at 'em! The
Union forever!
INT. PARLOR - MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Kane Sr. closes the window.
THATCHER
(over the boy's voice)
Everything else - the principal as
well as all monies earned - is to be
administered by the bank in trust for
your son, Charles Foster Kane, until
his twenty-fifth birthday, at which
time he is to come into complete
possession.
Mrs. Kane rises and goes to the window.
MRS. KANE
Go on, Mr. Thatcher.
Thatcher continues as she opens the window. His voice, as before, is
heard with overtones of the boy's.
EXT. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Kane Jr., seen from Mrs. Kane's position at the window. He is now
within ten feet of the snowman, with one snowball left which he is
holding back in his right hand.
KANE
You can't lick Andy Jackson! Old
Hickory, that's me!
He fires his snowball, well wide of the mark and falls flat on his
stomach, starting to crawl carefully toward the snowman.
THATCHER'S VOICE
It's nearly five, Mrs. Kane, don't
you think I'd better meet the boy -
INT. PARLOR - MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Mrs. Kane at the window. Thatcher is now standing at her side.
MRS. KANE
I've got his trunk all packed -
(she chokes a little)
I've it packed for a couple of weeks -
She can't say anymore. She starts for the hall day. Kane Sr., ill at
ease, has no idea of how to comfort her.
THATCHER
I've arranged for a tutor to meet
us in Chicago. I'd have brought
him along with me, but you were so
anxious to keep everything secret -
He stops as he realizes that Mrs. Kane has paid no attention to him
and, having opened the door, is already well into the hall that leads
to the side door of the house. He takes a look at Kane Sr., tightens
his lips and follows Mrs. Kane. Kane, shoulders thrown back like one
who bears defeat bravely, follows him.
EXT. MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY - 1870
Kane, in the snow-covered field. With the snowman between him and the
house, he is holding the sled in his hand, just about to make the
little run that prefaces a belly-flop. The Kane house, in the
background, is a dilapidated, shabby, two-story frame building, with a
wooden outhouse. Kane looks up as he sees the single file procession,
Mrs. Kane at its head, coming toward him.
KANE
H'ya, Mom.
Mrs. Kane smiles.
KANE
(gesturing at the snowman)
See, Mom? I took the pipe out of
his mouth. If it keeps on snowin',
maybe I'll make some teeth and -
MRS. KANE
You better come inside, son. You
and I have got to get you all ready
for - for -
THATCHER
Charles, my name is Mr. Thatcher -
MRS. KANE
This is Mr. Thatcher, Charles.
THATCHER
How do you do, Charles?
KANE SR.
He comes from the east.
KANE
Hello. Hello, Pop.
KANE SR.
Hello, Charlie!
MRS. KANE
Mr. Thatcher is going to take you on
a trip with him tonight, Charles.
You'll be leaving on Number Ten.
KANE SR.
That's the train with all the lights.
KANE
You goin', Mom?
THATCHER
Your mother won't be going right away,
Charles -
KANE
Where'm I going?
KANE SR.
You're going to see Chicago and New
York - and Washington, maybe...
Isn't he, Mr. Thatcher?
THATCHER
(heartily)
He certainly is. I wish I were a
little boy and going to make a trip
like that for the first time.
KANE
Why aren't you comin' with us, Mom?
MRS. KANE
We have to stay here, Charles.
KANE SR.
You're going to live with Mr. Thatcher
from now on, Charlie! You're going to
be rich. Your Ma figures - that is,
er - she and I have decided that this
isn't the place for you to grow up in.
You'll probably be the richest man in
America someday and you ought to -
MRS. KANE
You won't be lonely, Charles...
THATCHER
We're going to have a lot of good times
together, Charles... Really we are.
Kane stares at him.
THATCHER
Come on, Charles. Let's shake hands.
(extends his hand. Charles
continues to look at him)
Now, now! I'm not as frightening as
all that! Let's shake, what do you
say?
He reaches out for Charles's hand. Without a word, Charles hits him
in the stomach with the sled. Thatcher stumbles back a few feet,
gasping.
THATCHER
(with a sickly grin)
You almost hurt me, Charles.
(moves towards him)
Sleds aren't to hit people with.
Sleds are to - to sleigh on. When
we get to New York, Charles, we'll
get you a sled that will -
He's near enough to try to put a hand on Kane's shoulder. As he does,
Kane kicks him in the ankle.
MRS. KANE
Charles!
He throws himself on her, his arms around her. Slowly Mrs. Kane puts
her arms around him.
KANE
(frightened)
Mom! Mom!
MRS. KANE
It's all right, Charles, it's all
right.
Thatcher is looking on indignantly, occasionally bending over to rub
his ankle.
KANE SR.
Sorry, Mr. Thatcher! What the kid
needs is a good thrashing!
MRS. KANE
That's what you think, is it, Jim?
KANE SR.
Yes.
Mrs. Kane looks slowly at Mr. Kane.
MRS. KANE
(slowly)
That's why he's going to be brought
up where you can't get at him.
DISSOLVE:
1870 - NIGHT (STOCK OR MINIATURE)
Old-fashioned railroad wheels underneath a sleeper, spinning along the
track.
DISSOLVE:
INT. TRAIN - OLD-FASHIONED DRAWING ROOM - NIGHT - 1870
Thatcher, with a look of mingled exasperation, annoyance, sympathy and
inability to handle the situation, is standing alongside a berth,
looking at Kane. Kane, his face in the pillow, is crying with
heartbreaking sobs.
KANE
Mom! Mom!
DISSOLVE OUT:
The white page of the Thatcher manuscript. We pick up the words:
"HE WAS, I REPEAT, A COMMON ADVENTURER, SPOILED, UNSCRUPULOUS,
IRRESPONSIBLE."
The words are followed by printed headline on "Enquirer" copy (as in
following scene).
INT. ENQUIRER CITY ROOM - DAY - 1898
Close-up on printed headline which reads:
"ENEMY ARMADA OFF JERSEY COAST"
Camera pulls back to reveal Thatcher holding the "Enquirer" copy, on
which we read the headline. He is standing near the editorial round
table around which a section of the staff, including Reilly, Leland
and Kane are eating lunch.
THATCHER
(coldly)
Is that really your idea of how to
run a newspaper?
KANE
I don't know how to run a newspaper,
Mr. Thatcher. I just try everything
I can think of.
THATCHER
(reading headline of paper
he is still holding)
"Enemy Armada Off Jersey Coast." You
know you haven't the slightest proof
that this - this armada - is off the
Jersey Coast.
KANE
Can you prove it isn't?
Bernstein has come into the picture. He has a cable in his hand. He
stops when he sees Thatcher.
KANE
Mr. Bernstein, Mr. Thatcher -
BERNSTEIN
How are you, Mr. Thatcher?
THATCHER
How do you do? -
BERNSTEIN
We just had a wire from Cuba, Mr. Kane -
(stops, embarrassed)
KANE
That's all right. We have no secrets
from our readers. Mr. Thatcher is
one of our most devoted readers, Mr.
Bernstein. He knows what's wrong with
every issue since I've taken charge.
What's the cable?
BERNSTEIN
(reading)
The food is marvelous in Cuba the
senoritas are beautiful stop I could
send you prose poems of palm trees and
sunrises and tropical colors blending in
far off landscapes but don't feel right
in spending your money for this stop
there's no war in Cuba regards Wheeler.
THATCHER
You see! There hasn't been a true word -
KANE
I think we'll have to send our friend
Wheeler a cable, Mr. Bernstein. Of
course, we'll have to make it shorter
than his, because he's working on an
expense account and we're not. Let
me see -
(snaps his fingers)
Mike!
MIKE
(a fairly tough customer
prepares to take dictation,
his mouth still full of food)
Go ahead, Mr. Kane.
KANE
Dear Wheeler -
(pauses a moment)
You provide the prose poems - I'll
provide the war.
Laughter from the boys and girls at the table.
BERNSTEIN
That's fine, Mr. Kane.
KANE
I rather like it myself. Send it
right away.
MIKE
Right away.
BERNSTEIN
Right away.
Mike and Bernstein leave. Kane looks up, grinning at Thatcher, who is
bursting with indignation but controls himself. After a moment of
indecision, he decides to make one last try.
THATCHER
I came to see you, Charles, about
your - about the Enquirer's campaign
against the Metropolitan Transfer
Company.
KANE
Won't you step into my office, Mr.
Thatcher?
They cross the City Room together.
THATCHER
I think I should remind you, Charles,
of a fact you seem to have forgotten.
You are yourself one of the largest
individual stockholders.
INT. KANE'S OFFICE - DAY - 1898
Kane holds the door open for Thatcher. They come in together.
KANE
Mr. Thatcher, isn't everything I've
been saying in the Enquirer about
the traction trust absolutely true?
THATCHER
(angrily)
They're all part of your general
attack - your senseless attack -
on everything and everybody who's
got more than ten cents in his pocket.
They're -
KANE
The trouble is, Mr. Thatcher, you
don't realize you're talking to
two people.
Kane moves around behind his desk. Thatcher doesn't understand, looks
at him.
KANE
As Charles Foster Kane, who has eighty-two
thousand, six hundred
and thirty-one shares of Metropolitan
Transfer - you see, I do have a rough
idea of my holdings - I sympathize
with you. Charles Foster Kane is a
dangerous scoundrel, his paper should
be run out of town and a committee
should be formed to boycott him. You
may, if you can form such a committee,
put me down for a contribution of one
thousand dollars.
THATCHER
(angrily)
Charles, my time is too valuable for
me -
KANE
On the other hand -
(his manner becomes serious)
I am the publisher of the Enquirer.
As such, it is my duty - I'll let you
in on a little secret, it is also my
pleasure - to see to it that decent,
hard-working people of this city are
not robbed blind by a group of money-
mad pirates because, God help them,
they have no one to look after their
interests! I'll let you in on another
little secret, Mr. Thatcher. I think
I'm the man to do it. You see, I have
money and property -
Thatcher doesn't understand him.
KANE
If I don't defend the interests of
the underprivileged, somebody else
will - maybe somebody without any
money or any property and that would
be too bad.
Thatcher glares at him, unable to answer. Kane starts to dance.
KANE
Do you know how to tap, Mr. Thatcher?
You ought to learn -
(humming quietly, he
continues to dance)
Thatcher puts on his hat.
THATCHER
I happened to see your consolidated
statement yesterday, Charles. Could
I not suggest to you that it is
unwise for you to continue this
philanthropic enterprise -
(sneeringly)
this Enquirer - that is costing you
one million dollars a year?
KANE
You're right. We did lose a million
dollars last year.
Thatcher thinks maybe the point has registered.
KANE
We expect to lost a million next
year, too. You know, Mr. Thatcher -
(starts tapping quietly)
at the rate of a million a year -
we'll have to close this place in
sixty years.
DISSOLVE:
INT. THE VAULT ROOM - THATCHER MEMORIAL LIBRARY - DAY
Thompson - at the desk. With a gesture of annoyance, he is closing
the manuscript.
Camera arcs quickly around from over his shoulder to hold on door
behind him, missing his face as he rises and turns to confront Miss
Anderson, who has come into the room to shoo him out. Very prominent
on this wall is an over-sized oil painting of Thatcher in the best
Union League Club renaissance style.
MISS ANDERSON
You have enjoyed a very rare
privilege, young man. Did you find
what you were looking for?
THOMPSON
No. Tell me something, Miss Anderson.
You're not Rosebud, are you?
MISS ANDERSON
What?
THOMPSON
I didn't think you were. Well, thanks
for the use of the hall.
He puts his hat on his head and starts out, lighting a cigarette as he
goes. Miss Anderson, scandalized, watches him.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
INT. BERNSTEIN'S OFFICE - ENQUIRER SKYSCRAPER - DAY - 1940
Closeup of a still of Kane, aged about sixty-five. Camera pulls back,
showing it is a framed photograph on the wall. Over the picture are
crossed American flags. Under it sits Bernstein, back of his desk.
Bernstein, always an undersized Jew, now seems even smaller than in
his youth. He is bald as an egg, spry, with remarkably intense eyes.
As camera continues to travel back, the back of Thompson's head and
his shoulders come into the picture.
BERNSTEIN
(wryly)
Who's a busy man? Me? I'm Chairman
of the Board. I got nothing but time
... What do you want to know?
THOMPSON
(still explaining)
Well, Mr. Bernstein, you were with Mr.
Kane from the very beginning -
BERNSTEIN
From before the beginning, young fellow.
And now it's after the end.
(turns to Thompson)
Anything you want to know about him -
about the paper -
THOMPSON
- We thought maybe, if we can find out
what he meant by that last word - as he
was dying -
BERNSTEIN
That Rosebud? Maybe some girl? There
were a lot of them back in the early
days, and -
THOMPSON
Not some girl he knew casually and
then remembered after fifty years,
on his death bed -
BERNSTEIN
You're pretty young, Mr. -
(remembers the name)
Mr. Thompson. A fellow will remember
things you wouldn't think he'd remember.
You take me. One day, back in 1896, I
was crossing over to Jersey on a ferry
and as we pulled out, there was another
ferry pulling in -
(slowly)
- and on it, there was a girl waiting
to get off. A white dress she had on
- and she was carrying a white pastrol
- and I only saw her for one second and
she didn't see me at all - but I'll bet
a month hasn't gone by since that I
haven't thought of that girl.
(triumphantly)
See what I mean?
(smiles)
Well, so what are you doing about this
"Rosebud," Mr. Thompson.
THOMPSON
I'm calling on people who knew Mr. Kane.
I'm calling on you.
BERNSTEIN
Who else you been to see?
THOMPSON
Well, I went down to Atlantic City -
BERNSTEIN
Susie? I called her myself the day
after he died. I thought maybe
somebody ought to...
(sadly)
She couldn't even come to the 'phone.
THOMPSON
You know why? She was so -
BERNSTEIN
Sure, sure.
THOMPSON
I'm going back there.
BERNSTEIN
Who else did you see?
THOMPSON
Nobody else, but I've been through
that stuff of Walter Thatcher's.
That journal of his -
BERNSTEIN
Thatcher! That man was the biggest
darn fool I ever met -
THOMPSON
He made an awful lot of money.
BERNSTEIN
It's not trick to make an awful lot
of money if all you want is to make
a lot of money.
(his eyes get reflective)
Thatcher!
Bernstein looks out of the window and keeps on looking, seeming to see
something as he talks.
BERNSTEIN
He never knew there was anything in
the world but money. That kind of
fellow you can fool every day in the
week - and twice on Sundays!
(reflectively)
The time he came to Rome for Mr. Kane's
twenty-fifth birthday... You know,
when Mr. Kane got control of his own
money... Such a fool like Thatcher -
I tell you, nobody's business!
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
INT. BERNSTEIN'S OFFICE - DAY - 1940
Bernstein speaking to Thompson.
BERNSTEIN
He knew what he wanted, Mr. Kane did,
and he got it! Thatcher never did
figure him out. He was hard to figure
sometimes, even for me. Mr. Kane was
a genius like he said. He had that
funny sense of humor. Sometimes even
I didn't get the joke. Like that night
the opera house of his opened in
Chicago... You know, the opera house
he built for Susie, she should be an
opera singer...
(indicates with a little wave
of his hand what he thinks of
that; sighing)
That was years later, of course - 1914
it was. Mrs. Kane took the leading part
in the opera, and she was terrible. But
nobody had the nerve to say so - not even
the critics. Mr. Kane was a big man in
those days. But this one fellow, this
friend of his, Branford Leland -
He leaves the sentence up in the air, as we
DISSOLVE:
INT. CITY ROOM - CHICAGO ENQUIRER - NIGHT - 1914
It is late. The room is almost empty. Nobody is at work at the
desks. Bernstein, fifty, is waiting anxiously with a little group of
Kane's hirelings, most of them in evening dress with overcoats and
hats. Eveybody is tense and expectant.
CITY EDITOR
(turns to a young hireling;
quietly)
What about Branford Leland? Has he
got in his copy?
HIRELING
Not yet.
BERNSTEIN
Go in and ask him to hurry.
CITY EDITOR
Well, why don't you, Mr. Bernstein?
You know Mr. Leland.
BERNSTEIN
(looks at him for a moment;
then slowly)
I might make him nervous.
CITY EDITOR
(after a pause)
You and Leland and Mr. Kane - you were
great friends back in the old days, I
understand.
BERNSTEIN
(with a smile)
That's right. They called us the
"Three Musketeers."
Somebody behind Bernstein has trouble concealing his laughter. The
City Editor speaks quickly to cover the situation.
CITY EDITOR
He's a great guy - Leland.
(another little pause)
Why'd he ever leave New York?
BERNSTEIN
(he isn't saying)
That's a long story.
ANOTHER HIRELING
(a tactless one)
Wasn't there some sort of quarrel between -
BERNSTEIN
(quickly)
I had nothing to do with it.
(then, somberly)
It was Leland and Mr. Kane, and you
couldn't call it a quarrel exactly.
Better we should forget such things -
(turning to City Editor)
Leland is writing it up from the dramatic
angle?
CITY EDITOR
Yes. I thought it was a good idea.
We've covered it from the news end,
of course.
BERNSTEIN
And the social. How about the music
notice? You got that in?
CITY EDITOR
Oh, yes, it's already made up. Our
Mr. Mervin wrote a small review.
BERNSTEIN
Enthusiastic?
CITY EDITOR
Yes, very!
(quietly)
Naturally.
BERNSTEIN
Well, well - isn't that nice?
KANE'S VOICE
Mr. Bernstein -
Bernstein turns.
Medium long shot of Kane, now forty-nine, already quite stout. He is
in white tie, wearing his overcoat and carrying a folded opera hat.
BERNSTEIN
Hello, Mr. Kan