INT. JEFFERIES' APARTMENT - DAY - LONG SHOT
Although we do not see the foreground window frame, we see
the whole background of a Greenwich Village street.
We can see the rear of a number of assorted houses and small
apartment buildings whose fronts face on the next cross-town
street, sharply etched by the morning sun.
Some are two stories high; others three; some have peaked
roofs, others are flat. There is a mixture of brick and wood
and wrought iron in the construction.
The apartment buildings have fire escapes, the others do
The neighborhood is not a prosperous one, but neither is it
poor. It is a practical, conventional dwelling place for
people living on marginal incomes, luck -- or hope and careful
The summer air is motionless and heavy with humid heat.
It has opened windows wide, pushed back curtains, lifted
blinds and generally brought the neighborhood life into a
sweltering intimacy. Yet, people born and bred to life within
earshot and eye glance of a score of neighbors have learned
to preserve their own private worlds by uniformly ignoring
each other, except on direct invitation.
THE CAMERA PULLS BACK until a large sleeping profile of a
man fills the screen. It is so large that we do not see any
features, but merely the temple and side of the cheek down
which a stream of sweat is running.
THE CAMERA PANS OFF this to the right hand side of the window,
and MOVES TO a thermometer which is hanging on the wall just
outside the window. It registers 84.
THE CAMERA MOVES ON into the open, and brings nearer to us a
room with a large studio window. We are able to see inside
this room. A short, balding man is standing near the window,
shaving, using a small bowl of water and a portable mirror
which he has set up on a shelf.
To the right of him is a battered upright piano. On top of
the piano is a radio. The music selection coming from the
radio stops, and the announcer is heard.
The time -- 7:
15 A.M., WOR, New York.
The temperature, outside, 84 --
Friends -- is your life worth one
The man shaving quickly puts down his razor, hurries to the
radio, and changes the station, moving past a number of
commercial voices until he again finds some music.
Contented, he returns to his shaving.
THE CAMERA MOVES ON AND OVER to a far building. It passes
over the face of this building until it comes to fire escapes.
It goes up and near enough to one which has become the outdoor
bedroom of a couple. We are near enough to see an alarm clock
hanging from the rail which is now ringing vigorously. A man
rises lazily to a sitting position. He gropes to switch the
We see that his pajamas are stained with sweat. In his sitting
position he leans forward and shakes somebody beside him. To
our surprise, the head of this other person -- a woman --
rises where his feet are. They have been sleeping in opposite
directions. They sit limply looking at each other with
bedraggled and weary expressions which show they enjoyed
very little sleep in the heat of the night.