Casablanca Page #3
TONELLI:
Captain Tonelli, the Italian
service, at your command, Major.
STRASSER:
That is kind of you.
But Tonelli gets no further than that as Strasser turns
again to Renault. They walk away from the plane, Heinze
following, with Casselle and Tonelli bringing up the rear,
engaged in a heated exchange of words.
RENAULT:
You may find the climate of
Casablanca a trifle warm, Major.
STRASSER:
Oh, we Germans must get used to all
climates, from Russia to the Sahara.
But perhaps you were not referring
to the weather.
RENAULT:
(sidesteps the implication
with a smile)
What else, my dear Major?
STRASSER:
(casually)
By the way, the murder of the
couriers, what has been done?
RENAULT:
Realizing the importance of the
case, my men are rounding up twice
HEINZE:
We already know who the murderer is.
STRASSER:
Good. Is he in custody?
RENAULT:
Oh, there is no hurry. Tonight
he'll be at Rick's. Everybody
comes to Rick's.
STRASSER:
I have already heard about this
cafe, and also about Mr. Rick
himself.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. RICK'S CAFE - NIGHT
The neon sign above the door is brightly lit. Customers
arrive and go in through the front door. From inside we
hear sounds of MUSIC and LAUGHTER. The song is "It Had
to Be You."
Again we isolate on the neon sign.
INSERT SIGN:
"Rick's Cafe Americain" .We follow a group of customers inside.
INT. RICK'S CAFE - MAIN ROOM - NIGHT
Rick's is an expensive and chic nightclub which definitely
possesses an air of sophistication and intrigue.
SAM, a middle-aged Negro, sits on a stool before a small,
salmon-colored piano on wheels, playing and singing while
accompanied by a small orchestra.
All about him there is the HUM of voices, CHATTER and
LAUGHTER.
The occupants of the room are varied. There are Europeans
in their dinner jackets, their women beautifully begowned
and be jeweled. There are Moroccans in silk robes. Turks
wearing fezzes. Levantines. Naval officers. Members of
the Foreign Legion, distinguished by their kepis.
Two men sit at a table.
MAN:
Waiting, waiting, waiting. I'll
never get out of here. I'll die in
Casablanca .
His companion seems uninterested in his dilemma. Sympathy
is evidently in short supply in Casablanca.
At another table a very well-dressed WOMAN talks to a
MOOR. She has a bracelet on her wrist. No other jewelry.
WOMAN:
But can't you make it just a little
more? Please.
MOOR:
I'm sorry, Madame, but diamonds are
a drug on the market . Everybody
sells diamonds. There are diamonds
everywhere. Two thousand, four
hundred.
Translation
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Casablanca" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/casablanca_57>.
Discuss this script with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In