Citizen Kane
By
Herman J. Mankiewicz
&
Orson Welles
PROLOGUE
FADE IN:
EXT. XANADU - FAINT DAWN - 1940 (MINIATURE)
Window, very small in the distance, illuminated.
All around this is an almost totally black screen. Now, as
the camera moves slowly towards the window which is almost a
postage stamp in the frame, other forms appear; barbed wire,
cyclone fencing, and now, looming up against an early morning
sky, enormous iron grille work. Camera travels up what is now
shown to be a gateway of gigantic proportions and holds on the
top of it - a huge initial "K" showing darker and darker against
the dawn sky. Through this and beyond we see the fairy-tale
mountaintop of Xanadu, the great castle a sillhouette as its
summit, the little window a distant accent in the darkness.
DISSOLVE:
A SERIES OF SET -UPS, EACH CLOSER TO THE GREAT WINDOW, ALL
TELLING SOMETHING OF:
The literally incredible domain of CHARLES FOSTER KANE.
Its right flank resting for nearly forty miles on the Gulf
Coast, it truly extends in all directions farther than the eye
can see. Designed by nature to be almost completely bare and
flat - it was, as will develop, practically all marshland when
Kane acquired and changed its face - it is now pleasantly
uneven, with its fair share of rolling hills and one very good-
sized mountain, all man-made. Almost all the land is improved,
either through cultivation for farming purposes of through
careful landscaping, in the shape of parks and lakes. The
castle dominates itself, an enormous pile, compounded of several
genuine castles, of European origin, of varying architecture -
dominates the scene, from the very peak of the mountain.
DISSOLVE:
GOLF LINKS (MINIATURE)
Past which we move. The greens are straggly and overgrown,
the fairways wild with tropical weeds, the links unused and
not seriously tended for a long time.
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
WHAT WAS ONCE A GOOD-SIZED ZOO (MINIATURE)
Of the Hagenbeck type. All that now remains, with one
exception, are the individual plots, surrounded by moats, on
which the animals are kept, free and yet safe from each other
and the landscape at large. (Signs on several of the plots
indicate that here there were once tigers, lions, girrafes.)
DISSOLVE:
THE MONKEY TERRACE (MINIATURE)
In the foreground, a great obscene ape is outlined against the
dawn murk. He is scratching himself slowly, thoughtfully,
looking out across the estates of Charles Foster Kane, to the
distant light glowing in the castle on the hill.
DISSOLVE:
THE ALLIGATOR PIT (MINIATURE)
The idiot pile of sleepy dragons. Reflected in the muddy water -
the lighted window.
THE LAGOON (MINIATURE)
The boat landing sags. An old newspaper floats on the surface
of the water - a copy of the New York Enquirer." As it moves
across the frame, it discloses again the reflection of the
window in the castle, closer than before.
THE GREAT SWIMMING POOL (MINIATURE)
It is empty. A newspaper blows across the cracked floor of
the tank.
DISSOLVE:
THE COTTAGES (MINIATURE)
In the shadows, literally the shadows, of the castle. As we
move by, we see that their doors and windows are boarded up
and locked, with heavy bars as further protection and sealing.
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
A DRAWBRIDGE (MINIATURE)
Over a wide moat, now stagnant and choked with weeds. We move
across it and through a huge solid gateway into a formal garden,
perhaps thirty yards wide and one hundred yards deep, which
extends right up to the very wall of the castle. The
landscaping surrounding it has been sloppy and causal for a
long time, but this particular garden has been kept up in
perfect shape. As the camera makes its way through it, towards
the lighted window of the castle, there are revealed rare and
exotic blooms of all kinds. The dominating note is one of
almost exaggerated tropical lushness, hanging limp and
despairing. Moss, moss, moss. Ankor Wat, the night the last
King died.
DISSOLVE:
THE WINDOW (MINIATURE)
Camera moves in until the frame of the window fills the frame
of the screen. Suddenly, the light within goes out. This
stops the action of the camera and cuts the music which has
been accompanying the sequence. In the glass panes of the
window, we see reflected the ripe, dreary landscape of Mr.
Kane's estate behind and the dawn sky.
DISSOLVE:
INT. KANE'S BEDROOM - FAINT DAWN -
A very long shot of Kane's enormous bed, silhouetted against
the enormous window.
DISSOLVE:
INT. KANE'S BEDROOM - FAINT DAWN - SNOW SCENE.
An incredible one. Big, impossible flakes of snow, a too
picturesque farmhouse and a snow man. The jingling of sleigh
bells in the musical score now makes an ironic reference to
Indian Temple bells - the music freezes -
KANE'S OLD OLD VOICE
Rosebud...
The camera pulls back, showing the whole scene to be contained
in one of those glass balls which are sold in novelty stores
all over the world. A hand - Kane's hand, which has been
holding the ball, relaxes. The ball falls out of his hand and
bounds down two carpeted steps leading to the bed, the camera
following. The ball falls off the last step onto the marble
floor where it breaks, the fragments glittering in the first
rays of the morning sun. This ray cuts an angular pattern
across the floor, suddenly crossed with a thousand bars of
light as the blinds are pulled across the window.
The foot of Kane's bed. The camera very close. Outlined
against the shuttered window, we can see a form - the form of
a nurse, as she pulls the sheet up over his head. The camera
follows this action up the length of the bed and arrives at
the face after the sheet has covered it.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
INT. OF A MOTION PICTURE PROJECTION ROOM
On the screen as the camera moves in are the words:
"MAIN TITLE"
Stirring, brassy music is heard on the soundtrack (which, of
course, sounds more like a soundtrack than ours.)
The screen in the projection room fills our screen as the second
title appears:
"CREDITS"
NOTE: Here follows a typical news digest short, one of the
regular monthly or bi-monthly features, based on public events
or personalities. These are distinguished from ordinary
newsreels and short subjects in that they have a fully developed
editorial or storyline. Some of the more obvious
characteristics of the "March of Time," for example, as well
as other documentary shorts, will be combined to give an
authentic impression of this now familiar type of short subject.
As is the accepted procedure in these short subjects, a narrator
is used as well as explanatory titles.
FADE OUT:
NEWS DIGEST NARRATOR
Legendary was the Xanadu where
Kubla Kahn decreed his stately
pleasure dome -
(with quotes in his
voice)
"Where twice five miles of fertile
ground, with walls and towers were
girdled 'round."
(DROPPING THE QUOTES)
Today, almost as legendary is
Florida's XANADU - world's largest
private pleasure ground. Here, on
the deserts of the Gulf Coast, a
private mountain was commissioned,
successfully built for its landlord.
Here in a private valley, as in
the Coleridge poem, "blossoms many
an incense-bearing tree." Verily,
"a miracle of rare device."
U.S.A.
CHARLES FOSTER KANE
Opening shot of great desolate expanse of Florida coastline
(1940 - DAY)
DISSOLVE:
Series of shots showing various aspects of Xanadu, all as they
might be photographed by an ordinary newsreel cameraman - nicely
photographed, but not atmospheric to the extreme extent of the
Prologue (1940).
NARRATOR
(dropping the quotes)
Here, for Xanadu's landlord, will
be held 1940's biggest, strangest
funeral; here this week is laid to
rest a potent figure of our Century -
America's Kubla Kahn - Charles
Foster Kane. In journalism's
history, other names are honored
more than Charles Foster Kane's,
more justly revered. Among
publishers, second only to James
Gordon Bennet the First: his
dashing, expatriate son; England's
Northcliffe and Beaverbrook;
Chicago's Patterson and McCormick;
TITLE:
TO FORTY-FOUR MILLION U.S. NEWS BUYERS, MORE NEWSWORTHY THAN
THE NAMES IN HIS OWN HEADLINES, WAS KANE HIMSELF, GREATEST
NEWSPAPER TYCOON OF THIS OR ANY OTHER GENERATION.
Shot of a huge, screen-filling picture of Kane. Pull back to
show that it is a picture on the front page of the "Enquirer,"
surrounded by the reversed rules of mourning, with masthead
and headlines. (1940)
DISSOLVE:
A great number of headlines, set in different types and
different styles, obviously from different papers, all
announcing Kane's death, all appearing over photographs of
Kane himself (perhaps a fifth of the headlines are in foreign
languages). An important item in connection with the headlines
is that many of them - positively not all - reveal passionately
conflicting opinions about Kane. Thus, they contain variously
the words "patriot," "democrat," "pacifist," "war-monger,"
"traitor," "idealist," "American," etc.
TITLE:
1895 TO 1940 - ALL OF THESE YEARS HE COVERED, MANY OF THESE
YEARS HE WAS.
Newsreel shots of San Francisco during and after the fire,
followed by shots of special trains with large streamers: "Kane
Relief Organization." Over these shots superimpose the date -
1906.
Artist's painting of Foch's railroad car and peace negotiators,
if actual newsreel shot unavailable. Over this shot
sumperimpose the date - 1918.
NARRATOR
Denver's Bonfils and Sommes; New
York's late, great Joseph Pulitzer;
America's emperor of the news
syndicate, another editorialist
and landlord, the still mighty and
once mightier Hearst. Great names
all of them - but none of them so
loved, hated, feared, so often
spoken - as Charles Foster Kane.
The San Francisco earthquake.
First with the news were the Kane
papers. First with Relief of the
Sufferers, First with the news of
their Relief of the Sufferers.
Kane papers scoop the world on the
Armistice - publish, eight hours
before competitors, complete details
of the Armistice teams granted the
Germans by Marshall Foch from his
railroad car in the Forest of
Compeigne. For forty years appeared
in Kane newsprint no public issue
on which Kane papers took no stand.
No public man whom Kane himself
did not support or denounce - often
support, then denounce. Its humble
beginnings, a dying dailey -
Shots with the date - 1898 (to be supplied)
Shots with the date - 1910 (to be supplied)
Shots with the date - 1922 (to be supplied)
Headlines, cartoons, contemporary newreels or stills of the
following:
1. WOMAN SUFFRAGE
The celebrated newsreel shot of about 1914.
2. PROHIBITION
Breaking up of a speakeasy and such.
3. T.V.A.
4. LABOR RIOTS
Brief clips of old newreel shots of William Jennings Bryan,
Theodore Roosevelt, Stalin, Walter P. Thatcher, Al Smith,
McKinley, Landon, Franklin D. Roosevelt and such. Also, recent
newsreels of the elderly Kane with such Nazis as Hitler and
Goering; and England's Chamberlain and Churchill.
Shot of a ramshackle building with old-fashioned presses showing
through plate glass windows and the name "Enquirer" in old-
fashioned gold letters. (1892)
DISSOLVE:
NARRATOR
Kane's empire, in its glory, held
dominion over thirty-seven
newpapers, thirteen magazines, a
radio network. An empire upon an
empire. The first of grocery
stores, paper mills, apartment
buildings, factories, forests,
ocean-liners - An empire through
which for fifty years flowed, in
an unending stream, the wealth of
the earth's third richest gold
mine... Famed in American legend
is the origin of the Kane fortune...
How, to boarding housekeeper Mary
Kane, by a defaulting boarder, in
1868 was left the supposedly
worthless deed to an abandoned
mine shaft: The Colorado Lode.
The magnificent Enquirer Building
of today.
1891-1911 - a map of the USA, covering the entire screen, which
in animated diagram shows the Kane publications spreading from
city to city. Starting from New York, minature newboys speed
madly to Chicago, Detroit, St. Louis, Los Angeles, San
Francisco, Washington, Atlanta, El Paso, etc., screaming
"Wuxtry, Kane Papers, Wuxtry."
Shot of a large mine going full blast, chimneys belching smoke,
trains moving in and out, etc. A large sign reads "Colorado
Lode Mining Co." (1940) Sign reading; "Little Salem, CO - 25
MILES."
DISSOLVE:
An old still shot of Little Salem as it was 70 years ago
(identified by copper-plate caption beneath the still). (1870)
Shot of early tintype stills of Thomas Foster Kane and his
wife, Mary, on their wedding day. A similar picture of Mary
Kane some four or five years later with her little boy, Charles
Foster Kane.
NARRATOR
Fifty-seven years later, before a
Congressional Investigation, Walter
P. Thatcher, grand old man of
Wall Street, for years chief target
of Kane papers' attack on "trusts,"
recalls a journey he made as a
youth...
Shot of Capitol, in Washington D.C.
Shot of Congressional Investigating Committee (reproduction of
existing J.P. Morgan newsreel). This runs silent under
narration. Walter P. Thatcher is on the stand. He is flanked
by his son, Walter P. Thatcher Jr., and other partners. He is
being questioned by some Merry Andrew congressmen. At this
moment, a baby alligator has just been placed in his lap,
causing considerable confusion and embarrassment.
Newsreel close-up of Thatcher, the soundtrack of which now
fades in.
THATCHER
... because of that trivial
incident...
INVESTIGATOR
It is a fact, however, is it not,
that in 1870, you did go to
Colorado?
THATCHER
I did.
INVESTIGATOR
In connection with the Kane affairs?
THATCHER
Yes. My firm had been appointed
trustees by Mrs. Kane for the
fortune, which she had recently
acquired. It was her wish that I
should take charge of this boy,
Charles Foster Kane.
NARRATOR
That same month in Union Square -
INVESTIGATOR
Is it not a fact that on that
occasion, the boy personally
attacked you after striking you in
the stomach with a sled?
Loud laughter and confusion.
THATCHER
Mr. Chairman, I will read to this
committee a prepared statement I
have brought with me - and I will
then refuse to answer any further
questions. Mr. Johnson, please!
A young assistant hands him a sheet of paper from a briefcase.
THATCHER
(reading it)
"With full awareness of the meaning
of my words and the responsibility
of what I am about to say, it is
my considered belief that Mr.
Charles Foster Kane, in every
essence of his social beliefs and
by the dangerous manner in which
he has persistently attacked the
American traditions of private
property, initiative and opportunity
for advancement, is - in fact -
nothing more or less than a
Communist."
Newsreel of Union Square meeting, section of crowd carrying
banners urging the boycott of Kane papers. A speaker is on
the platform above the crowd.
SPEAKER
(fading in on
soundtrack)
- till the words "Charles Foster
Kane" are a menace to every working
man in this land. He is today
what he has always been and always
will be - A FASCIST!
NARRATOR
And yet another opinion - Kane's
own.
Silent newsreel on a windy platform, flag-draped, in front of
the magnificent Enquirer building. On platform, in full
ceremonial dress, is Charles Foster Kane. He orates silently.
TITLE:
"I AM, HAVE BEEN, AND WILL BE ONLY ONE THING - AN AMERICAN."
CHARLES FOSTER KANE.
Same locale, Kane shaking hands out of frame.
Another newsreel shot, much later, very brief, showing Kane,
older and much fatter, very tired-looking, seated with his
second wife in a nightclub. He looks lonely and unhappy in
the midst of the gaiety.
NARRATOR
Twice married, twice divorced -
first to a president's niece, Emily
Norton - today, by her second
marriage, chatelaine of the oldest
of England's stately homes. Sixteen
years after that - two weeks after
his divorce from Emily Norton -
Kane married Susan Alexander,
singer, at the Town Hall in Trenton,
New Jersey.
TITLE:
FEW PRIVATE LIVES WERE MORE PUBLIC.
Period still of Emily Norton (1900).
DISSOLVE:
Reconstructed silent newsreel. Kane, Susan, and Bernstein
emerging from side doorway of City Hall into a ring of press
photographers, reporters, etc. Kane looks startled, recoils
for an instance, then charges down upon the photographers,
laying about him with his stick, smashing whatever he can hit.
NARRATOR
For wife two, one-time opera singing
Susan Alexander, Kane built
Chicago's Municipal Opera House.
Cost: three million dollars.
Conceived for Susan Alexander Kane,
half-finished before she divorced
him, the still unfinished Xanadu.
Cost: no man can say.
Still of architect's sketch with typically glorified "rendering"
of the Chicago Municipal Opera House.
DISSOLVE:
A glamorous shot of the almost-finished Xanadu, a magnificent
fairy-tale estate built on a mountain. (1920)
Then shots of its preparation. (1917)
Shots of truck after truck, train after train, flashing by
with tremendous noise.
Shots of vast dredges, steamshovels.
Shot of ship standing offshore unloading its lighters.
In quick succession, shots follow each other, some
reconstructed, some in miniature, some real shots (maybe from
the dam projects) of building, digging, pouring concrete, etc.
NARRATOR
One hundred thousand trees, twenty
thousand tons of marble, are the
ingredients of Xanadu's mountain.
Xanadu's livestock: the fowl of
the air, the fish of the sea, the
beast of the field and jungle -
two of each; the biggest private
zoo since Noah. Contents of Kane's
palace: paintings, pictures,
statues, the very stones of many
another palace, shipped to Florida
from every corner of the earth,
from other Kane houses, warehouses,
where they mouldered for years.
Enough for ten museums - the loot
of the world.
More shots as before, only this time we see (in miniature) a
large mountain - at different periods in its development -
rising out of the sands.
Shots of elephants, apes, zebras, etc. being herded, unloaded,
shipped, etc. in various ways.
Shots of packing cases being unloaded from ships, from trains,
from trucks, with various kinds of lettering on them (Italian,
Arabian, Chinese, etc.) but all consigned to Charles Foster
Kane, Xanadu, Florida.
A reconstructed still of Xanadu - the main terrace. A group
of persons in clothes of the period of 1917. In their midst,
clearly recognizable, are Kane and Susan.
NARRATOR
Kane urged his country's entry
into one war, opposed participation
in another. Swung the election to
one American President at least,
was called another's assassin.
Thus, Kane's papers might never
have survived - had not the
President.
TITLE:
FROM XANADU, FOR THE PAST TWENTY-FIVE YEARS, ALL KANE
ENTERPRISES HAVE BEEN DIRECTED, MANY OF THE NATIONS DESTINIES
SHAPED.
Shots of various authentically worded headlines of American
papers since 1895.
Spanish-American War shots. (1898)
A graveyard in France of the World War and hundreds of crosses.
(1919)
Old newsreels of a political campaign.
Insert of a particularly virulent headline and/or cartoon.
HEADLINE: "PRESIDENT SHOT"
NARRATOR
Kane, molder of mass opinion though
he was, in all his life was never
granted elective office by the
voters of his country. Few U.S.
news publishers have been.
Few, like one-time Congressman
Hearst, have ever run for any office -
most know better - conclude with
other political observers that one
man's press has power enough for
himself. But Kane papers were
once strong indeed, and once the
prize seemed almost his. In 1910,
as Independent Candidate for
governor, the best elements of the
state behind him - the White House
seemingly the next easy step in a
lightning political career -
NIGHT SHOT OF CROWD BURNING CHARLES FOSTER KANE IN EFFIGY.
THE DUMMY BEARS A GROTESQUE, COMIC RESEMBLANCE TO KANE. IT IS
TOSSED INTO THE FLAMES, WHICH BURN UP -
AND THEN DOWN... (1910)
FADE OUT:
TITLE:
IN POLITICS - ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID, NEVER A BRIDE
Newsreel shots of great crowds streaming into a building -
Madison Square Garden - then shots inside the vast auditorium,
at one end of which is a huge picture of Kane. (1910)
Shot of box containing the first Mrs. Kane and young Howard
Kane, age five. They are acknowledging the cheers of the crowd.
(Silent Shot) (1910)
Newreel shot of dignitaries on platform, with Kane, alongside
of speaker's table, beaming, hand upraised to silence the crowd.
(Silent Shot) (1910)
NARRATOR
Then, suddenly - less than one
week before election - defeat!
Shameful, ignominious - defeat
that set back for twenty years the
cause of reform in the U.S., forever
cancelled political chances for
Charles Foster Kane. Then, in the
third year of the Great
Depression... As to all publishers,
it sometimes must - to Bennett, to
Munsey and Hearst it did - a paper
closes! For Kane, in four short
years: collapse!
Eleven Kane papers, four Kane
magazines merged, more sold,
scrapped -
Newreel shot - closeup of Kane delivering a speech... (1910)
The front page of a contemporary paper - a screaming headline.
Twin phots of Kane and Susan. (1910)
Printed title about Depression.
Once more repeat the map of the USA 1932-1939. Suddenly, the
cartoon goes into reverse, the empire begins to shrink,
illustrating the narrator's words.
The door of a newspaper office with the signs: "Closed."
NARRATOR
Then four long years more - alone
in his never-finished, already
decaying, pleasure palace, aloof,
seldom visited, never photographed,
Charles Foster Kane continued to
direct his falling empire ... vainly
attempting to sway, as he once
did, the destinies of a nation
that has ceased to listen to him
... ceased to trust him...
SHOTS OF XANADU. (1940)
Series of shots, entirely modern, but rather jumpy and obviously
bootlegged, showing Kane in a bath chair, swathed in summer
rugs, being perambulated through his rose garden, a desolate
figure in the sunshine. (1935)
NARRATOR
Last week, death came to sit upon
the throne of America's Kubla Khan -
last week, as it must to all men,
death came to Charles Foster Kane.
DISSOLVE:
Cabinent Photograph (Full Screen) of Kane as an old, old man.
This image remains constant on the screen (as camera pulls
back, taking in the interior of a dark projection room.
INT. PROJECTION ROOM - DAY -
A fairly large one, with a long throw to the screen. It is
dark.
The image of Kane as an old man remains constant on the screen
as camera pulls back, slowly taking in and registering
Projection Room. This action occurs, however, only after the
first few lines of encuring dialogue have been spoken. The
shadows of the men speaking appear as they rise from their
chairs - black against the image of Kane's face on the screen.
NOTE: These are the editors of a "News Digest" short, and of
the Rawlston magazines. All his enterprises are represented
in the projection room, and Rawlston himself, that great man,
is present also and will shortly speak up.
During the entire course of this scene, nobody's face is really
seen. Sections of their bodies are picked out by a table light,
a silhouette is thrown on the screen, and their faces and bodies
are themselves thrown into silhouette against the brilliant
slanting rays of light from the projection room.
A Third Man is on the telephone. We see a corner of his head
and the phone.
THIRD MAN
(at phone)
Stand by. I'll tell you if we
want to run it again.
(hangs up)
THOMPSON'S VOICE
Well?
A short pause.
A MAN'S VOICE
It's a tough thing to do in a
newsreel. Seventy years of a man's
life -
Murmur of highly salaried assent at this. Rawlston walks toward
camera and out of the picture. Others are rising. Camera
during all of this, apparently does its best to follow action
and pick up faces, but fails. Actually, all set-ups are to be
planned very carefully to exclude the element of personality
from this scene; which is expressed entirely by voices, shadows,
sillhouettes and the big, bright image of Kane himself on the
screen.
A VOICE
See what Arthur Ellis wrote about
him in the American review?
THIRD MAN
I read it.
THE VOICE
(its owner is already
leaning across the
table, holding a
piece of paper
under the desk
light and reading
from it)
Listen: Kane is dead. He
contributed to the journalism of
his day - the talent of a
mountebank, the morals of a
bootlegger, and the manners of a
pasha. He and his kind have almost
succeeded in transforming a once
noble profession into a seven
percent security - no longer secure.
ANOTHER VOICE
That's what Arthur Ellis is writing
now. Thirty years ago, when Kane
gave him his chance to clean up
Detroit and Chicago and St. Louis,
Kane was the greatest guy in the
world. If you ask me -
ANOTHER VOICE
Charles Foster Kane was a...
Then observations are made almost simultaneous.
RAWLSTON'S VOICE
Just a minute!
Camera moves to take in his bulk outlined against the glow
from the projection room.
RAWLSTON
What were Kane's last words?
A silence greets this.
RAWLSTON
What were the last words he said
on earth? Thompson, you've made
us a good short, but it needs
character -
SOMEBODY'S VOICE
Motivation -
RAWLSTON
That's it - motivation. What made
Kane what he was? And, for that
matter, what was he? What we've
just seen are the outlines of a
career - what's behind the career?
What's the man? Was he good or
bad? Strong or foolish? Tragic
or silly? Why did he do all those
things? What was he after?
(then, appreciating
his point)
Maybe he told us on his death bed.
THOMPSON
Yes, and maybe he didn't.
RAWLSTON
Ask the question anyway, Thompson!
Build the picture around the
question, even if you can't answer
it.
THOMPSON
I know, but -
RAWLSTON
(riding over him
like any other
producer)
All we saw on that screen was a
big American -
A VOICE
One of the biggest.
RAWLSTON
(without pausing
for this)
But how is he different from Ford?
Or Hearst for that matter? Or
Rockefeller - or John Doe?
A VOICE
I know people worked for Kane will
tell you - not only in the newspaper
business - look how he raised
salaries. You don't want to forget -
ANOTHER VOICE
You take his labor record alone,
they ought to hang him up like a
dog.
RAWLSTON
I tell you, Thompson - a man's
dying words -
SOMEBODY'S VOICE
What were they?
Silence.
SOMEBODY'S VOICE
(hesitant)
Yes, Mr. Rawlston, what were Kane's
dying words?
RAWLSTON
(with disgust)
Rosebud!
A little ripple of laughter at this, which is promptly silenced
by Rawlston.
RAWLSTON
That's right.
A VOICE
Tough guy, huh?
(derisively)
Dies calling for Rosebud!
RAWLSTON
Here's a man who might have been
President. He's been loved and
hated and talked about as much as
any man in our time - but when he
comes to die, he's got something
on his mind called "Rosebud."
What does that mean?
ANOTHER VOICE
A racehorse he bet on once,
probably, that didn't come in -
Rosebud!
RAWLSTON
All right. But what was the race?
There is a short silence.
RAWLSTON
Thompson!
THOMPSON
Yes, sir.
RAWLSTON
Hold this thing up for a week.
Two weeks if you have to...
THOMPSON
(feebly)
But don't you think if we release
it now - he's only been dead four
days it might be better than if -
RAWLSTON
(decisively)
Nothing is ever better than finding
out what makes people tick. Go
after the people that knew Kane
well. That manager of his - the
little guy, Bernstein, those two
wives, all the people who knew
him, had worked for him, who loved
him, who hated his guts -
(pauses)
I don't mean go through the City
Directory, of course -
The Third Man gives a hearty "yes-man" laugh.
THOMPSON
I'll get to it right away, Mr.
Rawlston.
RAWLSTON
(rising)
Good!
The camera from behind him, outlines his back against Kane's
picture on the screen.
RAWLSTON'S VOICE
It'll probably turn out to be a
very simple thing...
FADE OUT:
NOTE: Now begins the story proper - the seach by Thompson for
the facts about Kane - his researches ... his interviews with
the people who knew Kane.
It is important to remember always that only at the very end
of the story is Thompson himself a personality. Until then,
throughout the picture, we photograph only Thompson's back,
shoulders, or his shadow - sometimes we only record his voice.
He is not until the final scene a "character". He is the
personification of the search for the truth about Charles Foster
Kane. He is the investigator.
FADE IN:
EXT. CHEAP CABARET - "EL RANCHO" - ATLANTIC CITY - NIGHT -
1940 (MINIATURE) - RAIN
The first image to register is a sign:
"EL RANCHO"
FLOOR SHOW
SUSAN ALEXANDER KANE
TWICE NIGHTLY
These words, spelled out in neon, glow out of the darkness at
the end of the fade out. Then there is lightning which reveals
a squalid roof-top on which the sign stands. Thunder again,
and faintly the sound of music from within. A light glows
from a skylight. The camera moves to this and closes in.
Through the splashes of rain, we see through the skylight down
into the interior of the cabaret. Directly below us at a table
sits the lone figure of a woman, drinking by herself.
DISSOLVE:
INT. "EL RANCO" CABARET - NIGHT -
Medium shot of the same woman as before, finishing the drink
she started to take above. It is Susie. The music, of course,
is now very loud. Thompson, his back to the camera, moves
into the picture in the close foreground. A Captain appears
behind Susie, speaking across her to Thompson.
THE CAPTAIN
(a Greek)
This is Mr. Thompson, Miss
Alexander.
Susan looks up into Thompson's face. She is fifty, trying to
look much younger, cheaply blonded, in a cheap, enormously
generous evening dress. Blinking up into Thompson's face, she
throws a crink into ther mouth. Her eyes, which she thinks is
keeping commandingly on his, are bleared and watery.
SUSAN
(to the Captain)
I want another drink, John.
Low thunder from outside.
THE CAPTAIN
(seeing his chance)
Right away. Will you have
something, Mr. Thompson?
THOMPSON
(staring to sit
down)
I'll have a highball.
SUSAN
(so insistently as
to make Thompson
change his mind
and stand up again)
Who told you you could sit down
here?
THOMPSON
Oh! I thought maybe we could have
a drink together?
SUSAN
Think again!
There is an awkward pause as Thompson looks from her to the
Captain.
SUSAN
Why don't you people let me alone?
I'm minding my own business. You
mind yours.
THOMPSON
If you'd just let me talk to you
for a little while, Miss Alexander.
All I want to ask you...
SUSAN
Get out of here!
(almost hysterical)
Get out! Get out!
Thompson looks at the Captain, who shrugs his shoulders.
THOMPSON
I'm sorry. Maybe some other time -
If he thought he would get a response from Susan, who thinks
she is looking at him steelily, he realizes his error. He
nods and walks off, following the Captain out the door.
THE CAPTAIN
She's just not talking to anybody
from the newspapers, Mr. Thompson.
THOMPSON
I'm not from a newspaper exactly,
I -
They have come upon a waiter standing in front of a booth.
THE CAPTAIN
(to the waiter)
Get her another highball.
THE WAITER
Another double?
THE CAPTAIN
(after a moment,
pityingly)
Yes.
They walk to the door.
THOMPSON
She's plastered, isn't she?
THE CAPTAIN
She'll snap out of it. Why, until
he died, she'd just as soon talk
about Mr. Kane as about anybody.
Sooner.
THOMPSON
I'll come down in a week or so and
see her again. Say, you might be
able to help me. When she used to
talk about Kane - did she ever
happen to say anything - about
Rosebud?
THE CAPTAIN
Rosebud?
Thompson has just handed him a bill. The Captain pockets it.
THE CAPTAIN
Thank you, sir. As a matter of
fact, yesterday afternoon, when it
was in all the papers - I asked
her. She never heard of Rosebud.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
INT. THATCHER MEMORIAL LIBRARY - DAY -
An excruciatingly noble interpretation of Mr. Thatcher himself
executed in expensive marble. He is shown seated on one of
those improbable Edwin Booth chairs and is looking down, his
stone eyes fixed on the camera.
We move down off of this, showing the impressive pedestal on
which the monument is founded. The words, "Walter Parks
Thatcher" are prominently and elegantly engraved thereon.
Immediately below the inscription we encounter, in a medium
shot, the person of Bertha Anderson, an elderly, manish
spinnster, seated behind her desk. Thompson, his hat in his
hand, is standing before her. Bertha is on the phone.
BERTHA
(into phone)
Yes. I'll take him in now.
(hangs up and looks
at Thompson)
The directors of the Thatcher
Library have asked me to remind
you again of the condition under
which you may inspect certain
portions of Mr. Thatcher's
unpublished memoirs. Under no
circumstances are direct quotations
from his manuscript to be used by
you.
THOMPSON
That's all right.
BERTHA
You may come with me.
Without watching whether he is following her or not, she rises
and starts towards a distant and imposingly framed door.
Thompson, with a bit of a sigh, follows.
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
INT. THE VAULT ROOM - THATCHER MEMORIAL LIBRARY - DAY -
A room with all the warmth and charm of Napolean's tomb.
As we dissolve in, the door opens in and we see past Thompson's
shoulders the length of the room. Everything very plain, very
much made out of marble and very gloomy. Illumination from a
skylight above adds to the general air of expensive and
classical despair. The floor is marble, and there is a
gigantic, mahogany table in the center of everything. Beyond
this is to be seen, sunk in the marble wall at the far end of
the room, the safe from which a guard, in a khaki uniform,
with a revolver holster at his hip, is extracting the journal
of Walter P. Thatcher. He brings it to Bertha as if he were
the guardian of a bullion shipment. During this, Bertha has
been speaking.
BERTHA
(to the guard)
Pages eighty-three to one hundred
and forty-two, Jennings.
GUARD
Yes, Miss Anderson.
BERTHA
(to Thompson)
You will confine yourself, it is
our understanding, to the chapter
dealing with Mr. Kane.
THOMPSON
That's all I'm interested in.
The guard has, by this time, delivered the precious journal.
Bertha places it reverently on the table before Thompson.
BERTHA
You will be required to leave this
room at four-thirty promptly.
She leaves. Thompson starts to light a cigarette. The guard
shakes his head. With a sigh, Thompson bends over to read the
manuscript. Camera moves down over his shoulder onto page of
manuscript.
Manuscript, neatly and precisely written:
"CHARLES FOSTER KANE
WHEN THESE LINES APPEAR IN PRINT, FIFTY YEARS AFTER MY DEATH,
I AM CONFIDENT THAT THE WHOLE WORLD WILL AGREE WITH MY OPINION
OF CHARLES FOSTER KANE, ASSUMING THAT HE IS NOT THEN COMPLETELY
FORGOTTEN, WHICH I REGARD AS EXTREMELY LIKELY. A GOOD DEAL OF
NONSENSE HAS APPEARED ABOUT MY FIRST MEETING WITH KANE, WHEN
HE WAS SIX YEARS OLD... THE FACTS ARE SIMPLE. IN THE WINTER
OF 1870..."
The camera has not held on the entire page. It has been
following the words with the same action that the eye does the
reading. On the last words, the white page of the paper
DISSOLVES INTO:
EXT. MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY -
The white of a great field of snow, seen from the angle of a
parlor window.
In the same position of the last word in above Insert, appears
the tiny figure of Charles Foster Kane, aged five (almost like
an animated cartoon). He is in the act of throwing a snowball
at the camera. It sails toward us and over our heads, out of
scene.
Reverse angle - on the house featuring a large sign reading:
MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE
HIGH CLASS MEALS AND LODGING
INQUIRE WITHIN
Charles Kane's snowball hits the sign.
INT. PARLOR - MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY -
Camera is angling through the window, but the window-frame is
not cut into scene. We see only the field of snow again, same
angle as in previous scene. Charles is manufacturing another
snowball. Now -
Camera pulls back, the frame of the window appearing, and we
are inside the parlor of the boardinghouse. Mrs. Kane, aged
about 28, is looking out towards her son. Just as we take her
in she speaks:
MRS. KANE
(calling out)
Be careful, Charles!
THATCHER'S VOICE
Mrs. Kane -
MRS. KANE
(Calling out the
window almost on
top of this)
Pull your muffler around your neck,
Charles -
But Charles, deliriously happy in the snow, is oblivious to
this and is running away. Mrs. Kane turns into camera and we
see her face - a strong face, worn and kind.
THATCHER'S VOICE
think we'll have to tell him now -
Camera now pulls back further, showing Thatcher standing before
a table on which is his stove-pipe hat and an imposing
multiplicity of official-looking documents. He is 26 and, as
might be expected, a very stuffy young man, already very
expensive and conservative looking, even in Colorado.
MRS. KANE
I'll sign those papers -
KANE SR.
You people seem to forget that I'm
the boy's father.
At the sound of Kane Sr.'s voice, both have turned to him and
the camera pulls back still further, taking him in.
Kane Sr., who is the assistant curator in a livery stable, has
been groomed as elegantly as is likely for this meeting ever
since daybreak.
From outside the window can be heard faintly the wild and
cheerful cries of the boy, blissfully cavorting in the snow.
MRS. KANE
It's going to be done exactly the
way I've told Mr. Thatcher -
KANE SR.
If I want to, I can go to court.
father has a right to -
THATCHER
(annoyed)
Mr. Kane, the certificates that
Mr. Graves left here are made out
to Mrs. Kane, in her name. Hers
to do with as she pleases -
KANE SR.
Well, I don't hold with signing my
boy away to any bank as guardian
just because -
MRS. KANE
(quietly)
I want you to stop all this
nonsense, Jim.
THATCHER
The Bank's decision in all matters
concerning his education, his place
of residence and similar subjects
will be final.
(clears his throat)
KANE SR.
The idea of a bank being the
guardian -
Mrs. Kane has met his eye. Her triumph over him finds
expression in his failure to finish his sentence.
MRS. KANE
(even more quietly)
I want you to stop all this
nonsense, Jim.
THATCHER
We will assume full management of
the Colorado Lode - of which you,
Mrs. Kane, are the sole owner.
Kane Sr. opens his mouth once or twice, as if to say something,
but chokes down his opinion.
MRS. KANE
(has been reading
past Thatcher's
shoulder as he
talked)
Where do I sign, Mr. Thatcher?
THATCHER
Right here, Mrs. Kane.
KANE SR.
(sulkily)
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Mrs. Kane lifts the quill pen.
KANE SR.
Mary, I'm asking you for the last
time - anyon'd think I hadn't been
a good husband and a -
Mrs. Kane looks at him slowly. He stops his speech.
THATCHER
The sum of fifty thousand dollars
a year is to be paid to yourself
and Mr. Kane as long as you both
live, and thereafter the survivor -
Mrs. Kane puts pen to the paper and signs.
KANE SR.
Well, let's hope it's all for the
best.
MRS. KANE
It is. Go on, Mr. Thatcher -
Mrs. Kane, listening to Thatcher, of course has had her other
ear bent in the direction of the boy's voice. Thatcher is
aware both of the boy's voice, which is counter to his own,
and of Mrs. Kane's divided attention. As he pauses, Kane Sr.
genteelly walks over to close the window.
EXT. MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY -
Kane Jr., seen from Kane Sr.'s position at the window. He is
advancing on the snowman, snowballs in his hands, dropping to
one knee the better to confound his adversary.
KANE
If the rebels want a fight boys,
let's give it to 'em!
He throws two snowballs, missing widely, and gets up and
advances another five feet before getting on his knees again.
KANE
The terms are underconditional
surrender. Up and at 'em! The
Union forever!
INT. PARLOR - MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY -
Kane Sr. closes the window.
THATCHER
(over the boy's
voice)
Everything else - the principal as
well as all monies earned - is to
be administered by the bank in
trust for your son, Charles Foster
Kane, until his twenty-fifth
birthday, at which time he is to
come into complete possession.
Mrs. Kane rises and goes to the window.
MRS. KANE
Go on, Mr. Thatcher.
Thatcher continues as she opens the window. His voice, as
before, is heard with overtones of the boy's.
EXT. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY -
Kane Jr., seen from Mrs. Kane's position at the window. He is
now within ten feet of the snowman, with one snowball left
which he is holding back in his right hand.
KANE
You can't lick Andy Jackson! Old
Hickory, that's me!
He fires his snowball, well wide of the mark and falls flat on
his stomach, starting to crawl carefully toward the snowman.
THATCHER'S VOICE
It's nearly five, Mrs. Kane, don't
you think I'd better meet the boy -
INT. PARLOR - MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY -
Mrs. Kane at the window. Thatcher is now standing at her side.
MRS. KANE
I've got his trunk all packed -
(she chokes a little)
I've it packed for a couple of
weeks -
She can't say anymore. She starts for the hall day. Kane
Sr., ill at ease, has no idea of how to comfort her.
THATCHER
I've arranged for a tutor to meet
us in Chicago. I'd have brought
him along with me, but you were so
anxious to keep everything secret -
He stops as he realizes that Mrs. Kane has paid no attention
to him and, having opened the door, is already well into the
hall that leads to the side door of the house. He takes a
look at Kane Sr., tightens his lips and follows Mrs. Kane.
Kane, shoulders thrown back like one who bears defeat bravely,
follows him.
EXT. MRS. KANE'S BOARDINGHOUSE - DAY -
Kane, in the snow-covered field. With the snowman between him
and the house, he is holding the sled in his hand, just about
to make the little run that prefaces a belly-flop. The Kane
house, in the background, is a dilapidated, shabby, two-story
frame building, with a wooden outhouse. Kane looks up as he
sees the single file procession, Mrs. Kane at its head, coming
toward him.
KANE
H'ya, Mom.
Mrs. Kane smiles.
KANE
(gesturing at the
snowman)
See, Mom? I took the pipe out of
his mouth. If it keeps on snowin',
maybe I'll make some teeth and -
MRS. KANE
You better come inside, son. You
and I have got to get you all ready
for - for -
THATCHER
Charles, my name is Mr. Thatcher -
MRS. KANE
This is Mr. Thatcher, Charles.
THATCHER
How do you do, Charles?
KANE SR.
He comes from the east.
KANE
Hello. Hello, Pop.
KANE SR.
Hello, Charlie!
MRS. KANE
Mr. Thatcher is going to take you
on a trip with him tonight, Charles.
You'll be leaving on Number Ten.
KANE SR.
That's the train with all the
lights.
KANE
You goin', Mom?
THATCHER
Your mother won't be going right
away, Charles -
KANE
Where'm I going?
KANE SR.
You're going to see Chicago and
New York - and Washington, maybe...
Isn't he, Mr. Thatcher?
THATCHER
(heartily)
He certainly is. I wish I were a
little boy and going to make a
trip like that for the first time.
KANE
Why aren't you comin' with us,
Mom?
MRS. KANE
We have to stay here, Charles.
KANE SR.
You're going to live with Mr.
Thatcher from now on, Charlie!
You're going to be rich. Your Ma
figures - that is, re - she and I
have decided that this isn't the
place for you to grow up in.
You'll probably be the richest man
in America someday and you ought
to -
MRS. KANE
You won't be lonely, Charles...
THATCHER
We're going to have a lot of good
times together, Charles... Really
we are.
Kane stares at him.
THATCHER
Come on, Charles. Let's shake
hands.
(extends his hand.
Charles continues
to look at him)
Now, now! I'm not as frightening
as all that! Let's shake, what do
you say?
He reaches out for Charles's hand. Without a word, Charles
hits him in the stomach with the sled. Thatcher stumbles back
a few feet, gasping.
THATCHER
(with a sickly grin)
You almost hurt me, Charles.
(moves towards him)
Sleds aren't to hit people with.
Sleds are to - to sleigh on. When
we get to New York, Charles, we'll
get you a sled that will -
He's near enough to try to put a hand on Kane's shoulder. As
he does, Kane kicks him in the ankle.
MRS. KANE
Charles!
He throws himself on her, his arms around her. Slowly Mrs.
Kane puts her arms around him.
KANE
(frightened)
Mom! Mom!
MRS. KANE
It's all right, Charles, it's all
right.
Thatcher is looking on indignantly, occasionally bending over
to rub his ankle.
KANE SR.
Sorry, Mr. Thatcher! What the kid
needs is a good thrashing!
MRS. KANE
That's what you think, is it, Jim?
KANE SR.
Yes.
Mrs. Kane looks slowly at Mr. Kane.
MRS. KANE
(slowly)
That's why he's going to be brought
up where you can't get at him.
DISSOLVE:
1870 - NIGHT (STOCK OR MINIATURE)
Old-fashioned railroad wheels underneath a sleeper, spinning
along the track.
DISSOLVE:
INT. TRAIN - OLD-FASHIONED DRAWING ROOM - NIGHT -
Thatcher, with a look of mingled exasperation, annoyance,
sympathy and inability to handle the situation, is standing
alongside a berth, looking at Kane. Kane, his face in the
pillow, is crying with heartbreaking sobs.
KANE
Mom! Mom!
DISSOLVE OUT:
The white page of the Thatcher manuscript. We pick up the
words:
"HE WAS, I REPEAT, A COMMON ADVENTURER, SPOILED, UNSCRUPULOUS,
IRRESPONSIBLE."
The words are followed by printed headline on "Enquirer" copy
(as in following scene).
INT. ENQUIRER CITY ROOM - DAY -
Close-up on printed headline which reads:
"ENEMY ARMADA OFF JERSEY COAST"
Camera pulls back to reveal Thatcher holding the "Enquirer"
copy, on which we read the headline. He is standing near the
editorial round table around which a section of the staff,
including Reilly, Leland and Kane are eating lunch.
THATCHER
(coldly)
Is that really your idea of how to
run a newspaper?
KANE
I don't know how to run a newspaper,
Mr. Thatcher. I just try everything
I can think of.
THATCHER
(reading headline
of paper he is
still holding)
"Enemy Armada Off Jersey Coast."
You know you haven't the slightest
proof that this - this armada - is
off the Jersey Coast.
KANE
Can you prove it isn't?
Bernstein has come into the picture. He has a cable in his
hand. He stops when he sees Thatcher.
KANE
Mr. Bernstein, Mr. Thatcher -
BERNSTEIN
How are you, Mr. Thatcher?
THATCHER
How do you do? -
BERNSTEIN
We just had a wire from Cuba, Mr.
Kane -
(stops, embarrassed)
KANE
That's all right. We have no
secrets from our readers. Mr.
Thatcher is one of our most devoted
readers, Mr. Bernstein. He knows
what's wrong with every issue since
I've taken charge. What's the
cable?
BERNSTEIN
(reading)
The food is marvelous in Cuba the
senoritas are beautiful stop I
could send you prose poems of palm
trees and sunrises and tropical
colors blending in far off
landscapes but don't feel right in
spending your money for this stop
there's no war in Cuba regards
Wheeler.
THATCHER
You see! There hasn't been a true
word -
KANE
I think we'll have to send our
friend Wheeler a cable, Mr.
Bernstein. Of course, we'll have
to make it shorter than his, because
he's working on an expense account
and we're not. Let me see -
(snaps his fingers)
Mike!
MIKE
(a fairly tough
customer prepares
to take dictation,
his mouth still
full of food)
Go ahead, Mr. Kane.
KANE
Dear Wheeler -
(pauses a moment)
You provide the prose poems - I'll
provide the war.
Laughter from the boys and girls at the table.
BERNSTEIN
That's fine, Mr. Kane.
KANE
I rather like it myself. Send it
right away.
MIKE
Right away.
BERNSTEIN
Right away.
Mike and Bernstein leave. Kane looks up, grinning at Thatcher,
who is bursting with indignation but controls himself. After
a moment of indecision, he decides to make one last try.
THATCHER
I came to see you, Charles, about
your - about the Enquirer's campaign
against the Metropolitan Transfer
Company.
KANE
Won't you step into my office, Mr.
Thatcher?
They cross the City Room together.
THATCHER
I think I should remind you,
Charles, of a fact you seem to
have forgotten. You are yourself
one of the largest individual
stockholders.
INT. KANE'S OFFICE - DAY -
Kane holds the door open for Thatcher. They come in together.
KANE
Mr. Thatcher, isn't everything
I've been saying in the Enquirer
about the traction trust absolutely
true?
THATCHER
(angrily)
They're all part of your general
attack - your senseless attack -
on everything and everybody who's
got more than ten cents in his
pocket. They're -
KANE
The trouble is, Mr. Thatcher, you
don't realize you're talking to
two people.
Kane moves around behind his desk. Thatcher doesn't understand,
looks at him.
KANE
As Charles Foster Kane, who has
eighty-two thousand, six hundred
and thirty-one shares of
Metropolitan Transfer - you see, I
do have a rough idea of my holdings -
I sympathize with you. Charles
Foster Kane is a dangerous
scoundrel, his paper should be run
out of town and a committee should
be formed to boycott him. You
may, if you can form such a
committee, put me down for a
contribution of one thousand
dollars.
THATCHER
(angrily)
Charles, my time is too valuable
for me -
KANE
On the other hand -
(his manner becomes
serious)
I am the publisher of the Enquirer.
As such, it is my duty - I'll let
you in on a little secret, it is
also my pleasure - to see to it
that decent, hard-working people
of this city are not robbed blind
by a group of money - mad pirates
because, God help them, they have
no one to look after their
interests! I'll let you in on
another little secret, Mr. Thatcher.
I think I'm the man to do it. You
see, I have money and property -
Thatcher doesn't understand him.
KANE
If I don't defend the interests of
the underprivileged, somebody else
will - maybe somebody without any
money or any property and that
would be too bad.
Thatcher glares at him, unable to answer. Kane starts to dance.
KANE
Do you know how to tap, Mr.
Thatcher? You ought to learn -
(humming quietly,
he continues to
dance)
Thatcher puts on his hat.
THATCHER
I happened to see your consolidated
statement yesterday, Charles.
Could I not suggest to you that it
is unwise for you to continue this
philanthropic enterprise -
(sneeringly)
this Enquirer - that is costing
you one million dollars a year?
KANE
You're right. We did lose a million
dollars last year.
Thatcher thinks maybe the point has registered.
KANE
We expect to lost a million next
year, too. You know, Mr. Thatcher -
(starts tapping
quietly)
at the rate of a million a year -
we'll have to close this place in
sixty years.
DISSOLVE:
INT. THE VAULT ROOM - THATCHER MEMORIAL LIBRARY - DAY
Thompson - at the desk. With a gesture of annoyance, he is
closing the manuscript.
Camera arcs quickly around from over his shoulder to hold on
door behind him, missing his face as he rises and turns to
confront Miss Anderson, who has come into the room to shoo him
out. Very prominent on this wall is an over-sized oil painting
of Thatcher in the best Union League Club renaissance style.
MISS ANDERSON
You have enjoyed a very rare
privilege, young man. Did you
find what you were looking for?
THOMPSON
No. Tell me something, Miss
Anderson. You're not Rosebud, are
you?
MISS ANDERSON
What?
THOMPSON
I didn't think you were. Well,
thanks for the use of the hall.
He puts his hat on his head and starts out, lighting a cigarette
as he goes. Miss Anderson, scandalized, watches him.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
INT. BERNSTEIN'S OFFICE - ENQUIRER SKYSCRAPER - DAY -
Closeup of a still of Kane, aged about sixty-five. Camera
pulls back, showing it is a framed photograph on the wall.
Over the picture are crossed American flags. Under it sits
Bernstein, back of his desk. Bernstein, always an undersized
Jew, now seems even smaller than in his youth. He is bald as
an egg, spry, with remarkably intense eyes. As camera continues
to travel back, the back of Thompson's head and his shoulders
come into the picture.
BERNSTEIN
(wryly)
Who's a busy man? Me? I'm Chairman
of the Board. I got nothing but
time ... What do you want to know?
THOMPSON
(still explaining)
Well, Mr. Bernstein, you were with
Mr. Kane from the very beginning -
BERNSTEIN
From before the beginning, young
fellow. And now it's after the
end.
(turns to Thompson)
Anything you want to know about
him - about the paper -
THOMPSON
- We thought maybe, if we can
find out what he meant by that
last word - as he was dying -
BERNSTEIN
That Rosebud? Maybe some girl?
There were a lot of them back in
the early days, and -
THOMPSON
Not some girl he knew casually and
then remembered after fifty years,
on his death bed -
BERNSTEIN
You're pretty young, Mr. -
(remembers the name)
Mr. Thompson. A fellow will
remember things you wouldn't think
he'd remember. You take me. One
day, back in 1896, I was crossing
over to Jersey on a ferry and as
we pulled out, there was another
ferry pulling in -
(slowly)
- and on it, there was a girl
waiting to get off. A white dress
she had on - and she was carrying
a white pastrol - and I only saw
her for one second and she didn't
see me at all - but I'll bet a
month hasn't gone by since that I
haven't thought of that girl.
(triumphantly)
See what I mean?
(smiles)
Well, so what are you doing about
this "Rosebud," Mr. Thompson.
THOMPSON
I'm calling on people who knew Mr.
Kane. I'm calling on you.
BERNSTEIN
Who else you been to see?
THOMPSON
Well, I went down to Atlantic City -
BERNSTEIN
Susie? I called her myself the
day after he died. I thought maybe
somebody ought to...
(sadly)
She couldn't even come to the
'phone.
THOMPSON
You know why? She was so -
BERNSTEIN
Sure, sure.
THOMPSON
I'm going back there.
BERNSTEIN
Who else did you see?
THOMPSON
Nobody else, but I've been through
that stuff of Walter Thatcher's.
That journal of his -
BERNSTEIN
Thatcher! That man was the biggest
darn fool I ever met -
THOMPSON
He made an awful lot of money.
BERNSTEIN
It's not trick to make an awful
lot of money if all you want is to
make a lot of money.
(his eyes get
reflective)
Thatcher!
Bernstein looks out of the window and keeps on looking, seeming
to see something as he talks.
BERNSTEIN
He never knew there was anything
in the world but money. That kind
of fellow you can fool every day
in the week - and twice on Sundays!
(reflectively)
The time he came to Rome for Mr.
Kane's twenty-fifth birthday...
You know, when Mr. Kane got control
of his own
money... Such a fool like Thatcher -
I tell you, nobody's business!
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
INT. BERNSTEIN'S OFFICE - DAY -
Bernstein speaking to Thompson.
BERNSTEIN
He knew what he wanted, Mr. Kane
did, and he got it! Thatcher never
did figure him out. He was hard
to figure sometimes, even for me.
Mr. Kane was a genius like he said.
He had that funny sense of humor.
Sometimes even I didn't get the
joke. Like that night the opera
house of his opened in Chicago...
You know, the opera house he built
for Susie, she should be an opera
singer...
(indicates with a
little wave of his
hand what he thinks
of that; sighing)
That was years later, of course -
1914 it was. Mrs. Kane took the
leading part in the opera, and she
was terrible. But nobody had the
nerve to say so - not even the
critics. Mr. Kane was a big man
in those days. But this one fellow,
this friend of his, Branford Leland -
He leaves the sentence up in the air, as we
DISSOLVE:
INT. CITY ROOM - CHICAGO ENQUIRER - NIGHT -
It is late. The room is almost empty. Nobody is at work at
the desks. Bernstein, fifty, is waiting anxiously with a little
group of Kane's hirelings, most of them in evening dress with
overcoats and hats. Eveybody is tense and expectant.
CITY EDITOR
(turns to a young
hireling; quietly)
What about Branford Leland? Has
he got in his copy?
HIRELING
Not yet.
BERNSTEIN
Go in and ask him to hurry.
CITY EDITOR
Well, why don't you, Mr. Bernstein?
You know Mr. Leland.
BERNSTEIN
(looks at him for a
moment; then slowly)
I might make him nervous.
CITY EDITOR
(after a pause)
You and Leland and Mr. Kane - you
were great friends back in the old
days, I understand.
BERNSTEIN
(with a smile)
That's right. They called us the
"Three Musketeers."
Somebody behind Bernstein has trouble concealing his laughter.
The City Editor speaks quickly to cover the situation.
CITY EDITOR
He's a great guy - Leland.
(another little
pause)
Why'd he ever leave New York?
BERNSTEIN
(he isn't saying)
That's a long story.
ANOTHER HIRELING
(a tactless one)
Wasn't there some sort of quarrel
between -
BERNSTEIN
(quickly)
I had nothing to do with it.
(then, somberly)
It was Leland and Mr. Kane, and
you couldn't call it a quarrel
exactly. Better we should forget
such things -
(turning to City
Editor)
Leland is writing it up from the
dramatic angle?
CITY EDITOR
Yes. I thought it was a good idea.
We've covered it from the news
end, of course.
BERNSTEIN
And the social. How about the
music notice? You got that in?
CITY EDITOR
Oh, yes, it's already made up.
Our Mr. Mervin wrote a small review.
BERNSTEIN
Enthusiastic?
CITY EDITOR
Yes, very!
(quietly)
Naturally.
BERNSTEIN
Well, well - isn't that nice?
KANE'S VOICE
Mr. Bernstein -
Bernstein turns.
Medium long shot of Kane, now forty-nine, already quite stout.
He is in white tie, wearing his overcoat and carrying a folded
opera hat.
BERNSTEIN
Hello, Mr. Kane.
The Hirelings rush, with Bernstein, to Kane's side. Widespread,
half-suppressed sensation.
CITY EDITOR
Mr. Kane, this is a surprise!
KANE
We've got a nice plant here.
Everybody falls silent. There isn't anything to say.
KANE
Was the show covered by every
department?
CITY EDITOR
Exactly according to your
instructions, Mr. Kane. We've got
two spreads of pictures.
KANE
(very, very casually)
And the notice?
CITY EDITOR
Yes - Mr. Kane.
KANE
(quietly)
Is it good?
CITY EDITOR
Yes, Mr. kane.
Kane looks at him for a minute.
CITY EDITOR
But there's another one still to
come - the dramatic notice.
KANE
(sharply)
It isn't finished?
CITY EDITOR
No, Mr. Kane.
KANE
That's Leland, isn't it?
CITY EDITOR
Yes, Mr. Kane.
KANE
Has he said when he'll finish?
CITY EDITOR
We haven't heard from him.
KANE
He used to work fast - didn't he,
Mr. Bernstein?
BERNSTEIN
He sure did, Mr. Kane.
KANE
Where is he?
ANOTHER HIRELING
Right in there, Mr. Kane.
The Hireling indicates the closed glass door of a little office
at the other end of the City Room. Kane takes it in.
BERNSTEIN
(helpless, but very
concerned)
MR. KANE -
KANE
That's all right, Mr. Bernstein.
Kane crosses the length of the long City Room to the glass
door indicated before by the Hireling. The City Editor looks
at Bernstein. Kane opens the door and goes into the office,
closing the door behind him.
BERNSTEIN
Leland and Mr. Kane - they haven't
spoke together for ten years.
(long pause; finally)
Excuse me.
(starts toward the
door)
INT. LELAND'S OFFICE - CHICAGO ENQUIRER - NIGHT -
Bernstein comes in. An empty bottle is standing on Leland's
desk. He has fallen over his typewriter, his face on the keys.
A sheet of paper is in the machine. A paragraph has been typed.
Kane is standing at the other side of the desk looking down on
him. This is the first time we see murder in Kane's face.
Bernstein looks at Kane, then crosses to Leland. He shakes
him.
BERNSTEIN
Hey, Brad! Brad!
(he straightens,
looks at Kane;
pause)
He ain't been drinking before, Mr.
Kane. Never. We would have heard.
KANE
(finally; after a
pause)
What does it say there?
Bernstein stares at him.
KANE
What's he written?
Bernstein looks over nearsightedly, painfully reading the
paragraph written on the page.
BERNSTEIN
(reading)
"Miss Susan Alexander, a pretty
but hopelessly incompetent amateur -
(he waits for a
minute to catch
his breath; he
doesn't like it)
- last night opened the new Chicago
Opera House in a performance of -
of -"
(looks up miserably)
I can't pronounce that name, Mr.
Kane.
KANE
Thais.
Bernstein looks at Kane for a moment, then looks back, tortured.
BERNSTEIN
(reading again)
"Her singing, happily, is no concern
of this department. Of her acting,
it is absolutely impossible to..."
(he continues to
stare at the page)
KANE
(after a short
silence)
Go on!
BERNSTEIN
(without looking up)
That's all there is.
Kane snatches the paper from the roller and reads it for
himself. Slowly, a queer look comes over his face. Then he
speaks, very quietly.
KANE
Of her acting, it is absolutely
impossible to say anything except
that it represents a new low...
(then sharply)
Have you got that, Mr. Bernstein?
In the opinion of this reviewer -
BERNSTEIN
(miserably)
I didn't see that.
KANE
It isn't here, Mr. Bernstein. I'm
dictating it.
BERNSTEIN
(looks at him)
I can't take shorthand.
KANE
Get me a typewriter. I'll finish
the notice.
Bernstein retreats from the room.
QUICK DISSOLVE OUT:
QUICK DISSOLVE IN:
INT. LELAND'S OFFICE - CHICAGO ENQUIRER - NIGHT -
Long shot of Kane in his shirt sleeves, illuminated by a desk
light, typing furiously. As the camera starts to pull even
farther away from this, and as Bernstein - as narrator - begins
to speak -
QUICK DISSOLVE:
INT. BERNSTEIN'S OFFICE - DAY -
Bernstein speaking to Thompson.
BERNSTEIN
He finished it. He wrote the worst
notice I ever read about the girl
he loved. We ran it in every paper.
THOMPSON
(after a pause)
I guess Mr. Kane didn't think so
well of Susie's art anyway.
BERNSTEIN
(looks at him very
soberly)
He thought she was great, Mr.
Thompson. He really believed that.
He put all his ambition on that
girl. After she came along, he
never really cared for himself
like he used to. Oh, I don't
blame Susie -
THOMPSON
Well, then, how could he write
that roast? The notices in the
Kane papers were always very kind
to her.
BERNSTEIN
Oh, yes. He saw to that. I tell
you, Mr. Thompson, he was a hard
man to figure out. He had that
funny sense of humor. And then,
too, maybe he thought by finishing
that piece he could show Leland he
was an honest man. You see, Leland
didn't think so. I guess he showed
him all right. He's a nice fellow,
but he's a dreamer. They were
always together in those early
days when we just started the
Enquirer.
On these last words, we
DISSOLVE:
INT. CITY ROOM - ENQUIRER BUILDING - DAY -
The front half of the second floor constitutes one large City
Room. Despite the brilliant sunshine outside, very little of
it is actually getting into the room because the windows are
small and narrow. There are about a dozen tables and desks,
of the old-fashioned type, not flat, available for reporters.
Two tables, on a raised platform at the end of the room,
obviously serve the city room executives. To the left of the
platform is an open door which leads into the Sanctrum.
As Kane and Leland enter the room, an elderly, stout gent on
the raised platform, strikes a bell and the other eight
occupants of the room - all men - rise and face the new
arrivals. Carter, the elderly gent, in formal clothes, rises
and starts toward them.
CARTER
Welcome, Mr. Kane, to the
"Enquirer." I am Herbert Carter.
KANE
Thank you, Mr Carter. This is Mr.
Leland.
CARTER
(bowing)
How do you do, Mr. Leland?
KANE
(pointing to the
standing reporters)
Are they standing for me?
CARTER
I thought it would be a nice gesture
the new publisher -
KANE
(grinning)
Ask them to sit down.
CARTER
You may resume your work, gentlemen.
(to Kane)
I didn't know your plans and so I
was unable to make any preparations.
KANE
I don't my plans myself.
They are following Carter to his raised platform.
KANE
As a matter of fact, I haven't got
any. Except to get out a newspaper.
There is a terrific crash at the doorway. They all turn to
see Bernstein sprawled at the entrance. A roll of bedding, a
suitcase, and two framed pictures were too much for him.
KANE
Oh, Mr. Bernstein!
Bernstein looks up.
KANE
If you would come here a moment,
please, Mr. Bernstein?
Bernstein rises and comes over, tidying himself as he comes.
KANE
Mr. Carter, this is Mr. Bernstein.
Mr. Bernstein is my general manager.
CARTER
(frigidly)
How do you do, Mr. Bernstein?
KANE
You've got a private office here,
haven't you?
The delivery wagon driver has now appeared in the entrance
with parts of the bedstead and other furniture. He is looking
about, a bit bewildered.
CARTER
(indicating open
door to left of
platform)
My little sanctum is at your
disposal. But I don't think I
understand -
KANE
I'm going to live right here.
(reflectively)
As long as I have to.
CARTER
But a morning newspaper, Mr. Kane.
After all, we're practically closed
twelve hours a day - except for
the business offices -
KANE
That's one of the things I think
must be changed, Mr. Carter. The
news goes on for twenty-four hours
a day.
DISSOLVE:
INT. KANE'S OFFICE - LATE DAY -
Kane, in his shirt sleeves, at a roll-top desk in the Sanctum,
is working feverishly on copy and eating a very sizeable meal
at the same time. Carter, still formally coated, is seated
alongside him. Leland, seated in a corner, is looking on,
detached, amused. The furniture has been pushed around and
Kane's effects are somewhat in place. On a corner of the desk,
Bernstein is writing down figures. No one pays any attention
to him.
KANE
I'm not criticizing, Mr. Carter,
but here's what I mean. There's a
front page story in the "Chronicle,"
(points to it)
and a picture - of a woman in
Brooklyn who is missing. Probably
murdered.
(looks to make sure
of the name)
A Mrs. Harry Silverstone. Why
didn't the "Enquirer" have that
this morning?
CARTER
(stiffly)
Because we're running a newspaper,
Mr. Kane, not a scandal sheet.
Kane has finished eating. He pushes away his plates.
KANE
I'm still hungry, Brad. Let's go
to Rector's and get something
decent.
(pointing to the
"Chronicle" before
him)
The "Chronicle" has a two-column
headline, Mr. Carter. Why haven't
we?
CARTER
There is no news big enough.
KANE
If the headline is big enough, it
makes the new big enough. The
murder of Mrs. Harry Silverstone -
CARTER
(hotly)
As a matter of fact, we sent a man
to the Silverstone home yesterday
afternoon.
(triumphantly)
Our man even arrived before the
"Chronicle" reporter. And there's
no proof that the woman was murdered -
or even that she's dead.
KANE
(smiling a bit)
The "Chronicle" doesn't say she's
murdered, Mr. Carter. It says the
neighbors are getting suspicious.
CARTER
(stiffly)
It's not our function to report
the gossip of housewives. If we
were interested in that kind of
thing, Mr. Kane, we could fill the
paper twice over daily -
KANE
(gently)
That's the kind of thing we are
going to be interested in from now
on, Mr. Carter. Right now, I wish
you'd send your best man up to see
Mr. Silverstone. Have him tell
Mr. Silverstone if he doesn't
produce his wife at once, the
"Enquirer" will have him arrested.
(he gets an idea)
Have him tell Mr. Silverstone he's
a detective from the Central Office.
If Mr. Silverstone asks to see his
badge, your man is to get indignant
and call Mr. Silverstone an
anarchist.
Loudly, so that the neighbors can hear.
CARTER
Really, Mr. Kane, I can't see the
function of a respectable newspaper -
Kane isn't listening to him.
KANE
Oh, Mr. Bernstein!
Bernstein looks up from his figures.
KANE
I've just made a shocking discovery.
The "Enquirer" is without a
telephone. Have two installed at
once!
BERNSTEIN
I ordered six already this morning!
Got a discount!
Kane looks at Leland with a fond nod of his head at Bernstein.
Leland grins back. Mr. Carter, meantime, has risen stiffly.
CARTER
But, Mr. Kane -
KANE
That'll be all today, Mr. Carter.
You've been most understanding.
Good day, Mr. Carter!
Carter, with a look that runs just short of apoplexy, leaves
the room, closing the door behind him.
LELAND
Poor Mr. Carter!
KANE
(shakes his head)
What makes those fellows think
that a newspaper is something rigid,
something inflexible, that people
are supposed to pay two cents for -
BERNSTEIN
(without looking up)
Three cents.
KANE
(calmly)
Two cents.
Bernstein lifts his head and looks at Kane. Kane gazes back
at him.
BERNSTEIN
(tapping on the
paper)
This is all figured at three cents
a copy.
KANE
Re-figure it, Mr. Bernstein, at
two cents.
BERNSTEIN
(sighs and puts
papers in his pocket)
All right, but I'll keep these
figures, too, just in case.
KANE
Ready for dinner, Brad?
BERNSTEIN
Mr. Leland, if Mr. Kane, he should
decide to drop the price to one
cent, or maybe even he should make
up his mind to give the paper away
with a half-pound of tea - you'll
just hold him until I get back,
won't you?
LELAND
I'm not guaranteeing a thing, Mr.
Bernstein. You people work too
fast for me! Talk about new brooms!
BERNSTEIN
Who said anything about brooms?
KANE
It's a saying, Mr. Bernstein. A
new broom sweeps clean.
BERNSTEIN
Oh!
DISSOLVE:
INT.PRIMITIVE COMPOSING AND PRESSROOM - NEW YORK ENQUIRER -
NIGHT -
The ground floor witht he windows on the street - of the
"Enquirer." It is almost midnight by an old-fashioned clock
on the wall. Grouped around a large table, on which are several
locked forms of type, very old-fashioned of course, but true
to the period - are Kane and Leland in elegant evening clothes,
Bernstein, unchanged from the afternoon, and Smathers, the
composing room foreman, nervous and harassed.
SMATHERS
But it's impossible, Mr. Kane. We
can't remake these pages.
KANE
These pages aren't made up as I
want them, Mr. Smathers. We go to
press in five minutes.
CARTER
(about to crack up)
The "Enquirer" has an old and
honored tradition, Mr. Kane...
The "Enquirer" is not in competition
with those other rags.
BERNSTEIN
We should be publishing such rags,
that's all I wish. Why, the
"Enquirer" - I wouldn't wrap up
the liver for the cat in the
"Enquirer" -
CARTER
(enraged)
Mr. Kane, I must ask you to see to
it that this - this person learns
to control his tongue.
Kane looks up.
CARTER
I've been a newspaperman my whole
life and I don't intend -
(he starts to sputter)
- if it's your intention that I
should continue to be harassed by
this - this -
(he's really sore)
I warn you, Mr. Kane, it would go
against my grain to desert you
when you need me so badly - but I
would feel obliged to ask that my
resignation be accepted.
KANE
It is accepted, Mr. Carter, with
assurances of my deepest regard.
CARTER
But Mr. Kane, I meant -
Kane turns his back on him, speaks again to the composing room
foreman.
KANE
(quietly)
Let's remake these pages, Mr.
Smathers. We'll have to publish a
half hour late, that's all.
SMATHERS
(as though Kane
were talking Greek)
We can't remake them, Mr. Kane.
We go to press in five minutes.
Kane sighs, unperturbed, as he reaches out his hand and shoves
the forms off the table onto the floor, where they scatter
into hundreds of bits.
KANE
You can remake them now, can't
you, Mr. Smathers?
Smather's mouth opens wider and wider. Bradford and Bernstein
are grinning.
KANE
After the types 've been reset and
the pages have been remade according
to the way I told you before, Mr.
Smathers, kindly have proofs pulled
and bring them to me. Then, if I
can't find any way to improve them
again -
(almost as if
reluctantly)
- I suppose we'll have to go to
press.
He starts out of the room, followed by Leland.
BERNSTEIN
(to Smathers)
In case you don't understand, Mr.
Smathers - he's a new broom.
DISSOLVE OUT:
DISSOLVE IN:
EXT. NEW YORK STREET - VERY EARLY DAWN -
The picture is mainly occupied by a large building, on the
roof of which the lights spell out the word "Enquirer" against
the sunrise. We do not see the street or the first few stories
of this building, the windows of which would be certainly
illuminated. What we do see is the floor on which is located
the City Room. Over this scene, newboys are heard selling the
Chronicle, their voices growing in volume.
As the dissolve complete itself, camera moves toward the one
lighted window - the window of the Sanctrum.
DISSOLVE:
INT. KANE'S OFFICE - VERY EARLY DAWN -
The newsboys are still heard from the street below - fainter
but very insistent.
Kane's office is gas-lit, of course, as is the rest of the
Enquirer building.
Kane, in his shirt sleeves, stands at the open window looking
out. The bed is already made up. On it is seated Bernstein,
smoking the end of a cigar. Leland is in a chair.
NEWSBOYS' VOICES
CHRONICLE! CHRONICLE! H'YA - THE
CHRONICLE - GET YA! CHRONICLE!
Kane, taking a deep breath of the morning air, closes the window
and turns to the others. The voices of the newsboys, naturally,
are very much fainter after this.
LELAND
We'll be on the street soon, Charlie -
another ten minutes.
BERNSTEIN
(looking at his
watch)
It's three hours and fifty minutes
late - but we di