Days of Heaven Page #2
- PG
- Year:
- 1978
- 94 min
- 1,516 Views
ABBY:
Hold still, or I can't do anything.
BILL:
I love you, Abby. You're so good to me. Remember
how much fun we had, on the roof...
Bill and Abby flirt on the root of a tenement,
happily in love. The city stretches out behind them.
Abby lies shivering with fever. Bill spoons hot
soup into her mouth. Ursula rolls paper flowers for extra
change.
BILL (o.s.)
(continuing)
... even when you were sick and I was in the mill.
10INT. MILL - QUICK CUT (VARIOUS ANGLES OF OTHER WORKERS)
Bill works in the glow of a blast furnace. He
does not seem quite in place with the rest of the workers. A
pencil moustache lends a desired gentlemanliness to his
appearance. He looks fallen on hard times, without ever
having known any better--like Chaplin, an immigrant lost in
the heartless city, with dim hopes for a better way of life.
BILL (o.s.)
I won't let you go back in the mill. People die
in there. I'm a man, and I can look out for you.
Along a railroad spur outside the mill, Abby and
Ursula glean bits of coal that have fallen from the tenders.
BILL (o.s.)
We're going west. Things gotta be better out
there.
12EXT. TENEMENT
A POLICEMAN, looking for Bill, roughs Abby up
behind the tenement where they live. Suddenly Bill runs out
from a doorway and slams him over the head with a clay
pitcher full of water.
POLICEMAN:
What'd you do?
Bill shrugs, then hits him again, knocking him
unconscious, when he reaches for a gun. Abby calls Ursula
and they take off running, Bill stopping only to collect
some of their laundry off a clothesline.
13EXT. FREIGHT YARDS
They hop a freight train.
14CREDITS (OVER EXISTING PHOTOS)
The CREDITS run over black and white photos of
the Chicago they are leaving behind. Pigs roam the gutters.
Street urchins smoke cigar butts under a stairway. A blind
man hawks stale bread. Dirty children play around a dripping
hydrant. Laundry hangs out to dry on tenement fire escapes.
Police look for a thief under a bridge. Irish gangs stare at
the camera, curious how they will look. The CREDITS end.
15EXT. MOVING TRAIN
Abby and Bill sit atop a train racing through
the wheat country of the Texas Panhandle.
BILL:
I like the sunshine.
ABBY:
Everybody does.
They laugh. She is dressed in men's clothes, her hair tucked
up under a cap. They are sharing a bottle of wine.
BILL:
I never wanted to fall in love with you.
ABBY:
Nobody asked you to.
He draws her toward him. She pulls away.
BILL:
What's the matter? A while ago you said I was
irresistible. I still am.
ABBY:
That was then.
She pushes her nose up against his chest and
sniffs around.
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
"Days of Heaven" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 2 May 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/days_of_heaven_843>.
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