Trumbo

CUT TO:

EXT. LAZY-T RANCH - 1947 - DAWN

Alone in a vast, serrated mountain range a hundred miles

north of Los Angeles, it looks from the outside like a rustic

sprawl. The day is a gold sliver in a navy sky.

INT. LAZY-T RANCH - BATHROOM - DAWN

Writer DALTON TRUMBO, 41, debonair, heartfelt and combative,

is naked in a tub, his copyholder on a wood plank as the

steam rises.

INT. LAZY-T RANCH - TRUMBO’S STUDY - DAWN

Like the whole home, beautifully appointed. Trumbo, kindled

cigarette in its holder, attacks the keys of a typewriter on

his desk, the fastest two-fingered typist ever as we --

QUICKLY CUT AROUND HIS OFFICE,

Taking in:

-The American Booksellers National Book Award for his novel,

Johnny Got His Gun.

-The poster for his movie, Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo.

-His Oscar nomination for the screenplay of Kitty Foyle.

TIGHT ON TRUMBO’S TYPEWRITER

As the inky letters CHOP movie dialogue across the white

paper, Trumbo writing like a boxer working a speed bag --

MANNY:
What do you want?

(CONTINUED)

TRUMBO - JOHN MCNAMARA 2.

CONTINUED:

MORE QUICK POPS - TO SHELVES AND TABLETOPS

Thick with framed photos of:

-Trumbo with KATHARINE HEPBURN at a United Refugee Committee

dinner.

-Trumbo as a World War II correspondent in his dress

uniform, boarding a plane.

-Trumbo in muddy fatigues, among battered SOLDIERS on a

battle-scarred beach in the South Pacific.

BACK TO A TIGHT CLOSE-UP OF TRUMBO’S WRITING

Words racing across the page:

What we all want.

ATOP HIS DESK - FRAMED FAMILY PICTURES

In them, WE SEE both Trumbo’s furious pecking reflected on

glass, animatedly overlaying stills under glass of:

-Trumbo’s wife Cleo in a stunning portrait.

-Trumbo and Cleo with their three children, blowing out

Niki’s eighth birthday cake.

BACK TO TRUMBO AT THE TYPEWRITER

Lemony morning light now paints the windows. Trumbo writes:

To not die young, poor...

And now we HEAR --

EDWARD G. ROBINSON (PRE-LAP)

What do you want? What we all

want. To not die young, poor...

-- as the final words of Trumbo’s speech strike paper -

...or alone.

-- Trumbo SLAPS the return and in a WHITE BLUR we’re now -INT.

A NEW YORK ALLEY (MGM SOUNDSTAGE) - NIGHT

EDWARD G. ROBINSON

...or alone.

(CONTINUED)

TRUMBO - JOHN MCNAMARA 3.

CONTINUED:

EDWARD G. ROBINSON -- a charismatic, stocky man of 53, both

assertive and refined -- plays “MANNY,” stepping from a

sedan, moving toward a SUPPORTING PLAYER as “ROCCO,” on his

knees, bloody lip, torn jacket.

“ROCCO”

Manny, these guys... I don’t give

’em what they’re after, they’ll

kill me.

EDWARD G. ROBINSON/“MANNY”

Hold it, Rocco.

“Manny” takes out his revolver -- and aims it at “Rocco,” who

freezes as he stands.

EDWARD G. ROBINSON/“MANNY” (CONT’D)

If we don’t fight these guys,

sure, maybe you -

As “Manny” gestures with the gun, its cylinder dislodges from

the barrel -- and several bullets FLY out and comically

CLATTER to the stage floor at Robinson’s feet.

EDWARD G. ROBINSON/“MANNY” (CONT’D)

Sh*t.

The director is out of his chair and on his feet -- SAM WOOD,

early 60s, sharp, authoritative.

SAM WOOD:

Cut! Goin’ again, Eddie.

A BELL sounds. The CREW rustles in the shadows.

EDWARD G. ROBINSON

Sorry, Sam. Sorry, everybody. Of

course, the one day the author’s

among us.

Trumbo sits nearby, in a bespoke suit, calmly smoking.

Robinson settles in a canvas chair with his name on the back.

SAM WOOD:

(as he glides past to talk

to the CAMERAMAN)

“Among us.” Sure ain’t one of us.

EDWARD G. ROBINSON

(keeping it light)

What’s the brilliant line, Trumbo?

(CONTINUED)

TRUMBO - JOHN MCNAMARA 4.

CONTINUED:
(2)

DALTON TRUMBO:

“If we don’t fight these guys,

sure, maybe you get that long,

happy life we all want.”

EDWARD G. ROBINSON

Then what is it you’ve got me

fighting for again?

DALTON TRUMBO:

“Peace on Earth, good will toward

men.”

Nearby, Wood SNORTS. Yeah, right.

EDWARD G. ROBINSON

You can’t do that, this is America.

DALTON TRUMBO:

How about sex and money?

EDWARD G. ROBINSON

There you go, two things we all

love. None of your little sermons

on citizenship.

EXT. A BEVERLY HILLS MANSION - BACKYARD - NIGHT

A flat half-acre dominated by a massive pool that GLOWS with

a hundred floating candles. A PARTY where:

-MEN are in black tie, WOMEN in gowns, everyone smokes,

everyone drinks. Different time, different world.

-There’s MUSIC from a live BIG BAND.

VOICES overlap and compete as we snag snippets:

PARTYGOER 1

“...I don’t love it but Zanuck

does...”

PARTYGOER 2

“...make the Indians the good guys,

that’s the twist...”

PARTYGOER 3

“Now the actors want to go on

strike. Who’s next? Lassie?”

CLEO TRUMBO, 30s, hovers at the edge of a GROUP OF WOMEN

about her age.

(CONTINUED)

TRUMBO - JOHN MCNAMARA 5.

CONTINUED:

She’s beautiful, observant, sensitive, often silent, as she

is here, excusing herself with a warm smile to look for

someone at the party, passing by --

A GROUP OF MEN. Louder, more boisterous. Within that group,

Edward G. Robinson.

EDWARD G. ROBINSON

(in mid-sentence)

...still doing reshoots, what else?

Luckily, Mayer lined up the A Team,

Sam Wood to shoot, Dalton Trumbo

for rewrites, so, fingers

crossed...

From across the lawn, TWO MALE VOICES suddenly RISE, so we

hear before we see:

SAM WOOD (O.S.)

...Jesus, Trumbo, a goddamn six-

month strike, for what?

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