Hail, Caesar! Page #4

A BOULDER:

It is a great big boulder.

10.

A beard-stubbled cowboy rises from behind its cover to fire

his six-shooter. He himself is immediately shot: he grimaces

and releases his gun which swivels around his trigger-finger,

as he staggers——and drops.

He who just shot him: Hobie Doyle, in white Western wear.

Eyes narrowed, he gauges the effect of his shot, then reacts

to the sound of retreating hoofbeats.

The other bad men are racing off, firing wildly back in his

direction.

Hobie adroitly twirls and holsters his gun.

HOBIE:

Whitey!

The white horse placidly cropping the grass several yards

away flicks its ears and looks over. It nickers and shuffles

to face away from Hobie as he runs to it. He vaults its rump

and man and animal are off.

Hobie riding. A mounted bad man falls in behind him——a

bushwack. This pursuer begins to fire.

Hobie rocks forward on Whitey, low to his neck. He reaches

down to grab the saddle, one hand on either side. He pushes

himself up into a handstand atop the racing horse.

An oncoming tree limb hooks his knees and he swings up and

around as his horse races on unridered. When he loops back

around the tree limb his six-shooter is at the ready and he

fires on the swing at the oncoming horseman. The bad man

clutches his chest and falls from his horse as Hobie swings

up again.

Hobie uses his upward inertia to gracefully execute a trapeze-

artist dismount from the branch. His drop toward the ground

is neatly intercepted by the bad man’s galloping horse, Hobie

plops into its saddle. He reins in the snorting beast and as

it rears he fires his six-shooter into the air in an

expression of pure brio. He then twirls and holsters his gun,

calms the horse with a pat on the neck, and leaps aground. He

claps dust from his yoked white shirt.

MEGAPHONE VOICE:

And cut.

A man in sunglasses rises from a canvas chair next to a

camera attended by men in creased hoist-up pants and white

shirts and ties.

DIRECTOR:

Great, Hobie.

11.

HOBIE:

I kin do the handstand smoother if

ya gimme another shot atter.

DIRECTOR:

We’ve got four good ones Hobie, and

Whitey is tired.

An assistant trots up to Hobie with a small tin. Hobie takes

it and loads a chew into one cheek.

HOBIE:

Okay, you’re the bossman. If that’s

lunch ammo grab me a plate a beans.

ASSISTANT:

Hobie, the studio wants you to

escort Carlotta Valdez to your

premier tonight.

HOBIE:

But she warn’t in the pitcher.

ASSISTANT:

Well that’s what they want.

HOBIE:

But she warn’t in the pitcher.

ASSISTANT:

Well, it’s some publicity thing.

HOBIE:

Ah don’t git it.

ASSISTANT:

Well, the studio says you’re

bringing Carlotta Valdez. You’re

her escort.

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