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Miller's Crossing (1990) movie script
by Joel and Ethan Coen.
1. FADE IN:
CLOSE SHOT A WHISKEY TUMBLER
That sits on an oak side bar under a glowing green bankers
lamp, as two ice cubes are dropped in. From elsewhere in
the room:
Man (off)
I'm talkin' about friendship. I'm talkin' about
character. I'm talkin' about--hell, Leo, I ain't
embarassed to use the word--I'm talkin' about
ethics.
Whiskey is poured into the tumbler, filling it almost to
the rim, as the offscreen man continues.
. . . You know I'm a sporting man. I like to
make the occasional bet. But I ain't that
sporting.
THE SPEAKER
A balding middle-aged man with a round, open face. He
still wears his overcoat and sits in a leather chair in the
dark room, illuminated by the offscreen glow of a desk
lamp. This is Johnny Caspar.
Behind him stands another man, harder looking, wearing an
overcoat and hat and holding another hat--presumably
Caspar's. This is Bluepoiont Vance.
Caspar (cont'd)
When I fix a fight, say--if I pay a three-to-one
favorite to throw a goddamn fight--I figure I got
a right to expect that fight to go off at three-
to-one. But every time I lay a bet with this
sonofabitch Bernie Bernheim, before I know it the
odds is even up--or worse, I'm betting the short
money. . .
Behind Caspar we hear the clink of ice in the tumbler and a
figure emerges from the shadows, walking away from the
glowing bar in the backgound.
. . . The sheeny knows I like sure things. He's
selling the information I fixed the fight. Out-
of-town money comes pourin' in. The odds go
straight to hell. I don't know who he's sellin'
it to, maybe the Los Angeles combine, I don't
know. The point is, Bernie ain't satisfied with
the honest dollar he can make off the vig. He
ain't satisfied with the business I do on his
book. He's sellin' tips on how I bet, and that
means part of the payoff that should be ridin' on
my hip is ridin' on someone else's. So back we
go to these questions--friendship, character,
ethics.
The man with the whiskey glass has just passed the camera
and we cut to the:
REVERSE
Another well dressed, middle aged man, behind a large
polished oak desk, listening intently. This is Leo. He is
short but powerfully built, with the face of a man who has
seen things.
The man with the whiskey enters frame and passes Leo to
lean against the wall behind him, where he listens quietly.
Caspar
. . . So its clear what I'm sayin'?
Leo
Clear as mud.
Caspar purses his lips but continues unfazed.
Caspar
It's a wrong situation. It's gettin' so a
businessman can't expect no return from a fixed
fight. Now if you can't trust a fix, what can
you trust? For a good return you gotta go
bettin' on chance, and then you're back with
anarchy. Right back inna jungle. On account of
the breakdown of ethics. That's why ethics is
important. It's the grease makes us get along,
what separates us from the animals, beasts a
burden, beasts a prey. Ethics. Whereas Bernie
Bernheim is a horse of a different color ethics-
wise. As in, he ain't got any. He's stealin'
from me plain and simple.
Leo leans back in his chair.
The man behind Leo raises the whiskey glass to his lips.
He is trimmer and younger than Leo, perhaps in his thir-
ties, dark-complected, with a pencil mustache and a gaunt
intensity that is not entirely healthy-looking. This is
Tom.
As he drinks, he studies Caspar and Bluepoint.
Leo
You sure it's Bernie, selling you out?
For the first time the man behind Caspar speaks:
Bluepoint
It ain't elves.
Leo
Nobody else knows about the fix?
Caspar
No one that ain't got ethics.
Leo
What about the fighters you pay to tank out?
Bluepoint
We only pick fighters we can put the fear of God
in.
Leo
Any other bookies know? You play anyone else's
book?
Caspar
I lay an occasional bet with Mink Larouie.
Bluepoint
But it ain't Mink, I'll vouch for that.
Leo
How do you know?
Caspar shakes his head.
Caspar
It ain't Mink. Mink is Bluepoint's boy.
Leo
Mm. And of course, Bluepoint always knows about
the fix.
Bluepoint
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Leo
Let it drift. All it means is a lot of people
know.
Caspar
I guess you ain't been listening. Sure other
people know. That's why we gotta go to this
question of character, determine just who exactly
is chiseling in an my fix. And that's how we
know it's Bernie Bernheim. The Motzah Kid.
Cause ethically, he's kinda shaky.
Leo
You know Bernie's chiseling you because he's a
chiseler. And you know he's a chiseler because
he's chiseling you.
Airily:
Caspar
Sometimes you just know.
Leo
. . . So you wanna kill him.
Bluepoint
For starters.
Leo nods, thinking. He swivels to look interrogatively at
Tom.
Tom gives an almost imperceptable shrug. The ice cubes in
his glass clink.
Leo turns back to Caspar, pauses.
Leo
. . . Sorry, Caspar. Bernie pays me for protec-
tion.
Tom, peering over his drink, does not entirely conceal his
surprise.
Caspar stares at Leo, his mouth open. It is not the
response he expected.
Caspar
. . . Listen, Leo, I ain't askin, for permission.
I'm tellin' you as a courtesy. I need to do this
thing, so it's gonna get done.
Leo
Then I'm telling you as a courtesy that you'll
have trouble. You came here to see if I'd kick
if you killed Bernie. Well there's your answer.
Caspar's voice is harder:
Caspar
Listen Leo, I pay off to you every month like a
greengrocer--a lot more than the Motzah--and I'm
sick a gettin' the high hat--
Leo
You pay off for protection, just like everyone
else. Far as I know--and what I don't know in
this town ain't worth knowing--the cops haven't
closed any of your dives and the O.A. hasn't
touched any of your rackets. You haven't bought
any license to kill bookies and today I ain't
selling any. Now take your flunky and dangle.
Caspar is staring at Leo. He looks at Tom, then rises
slowly to his feet. Back at Leo:
Caspar
Ya know I'm tryin'. . . I'm tryin not to raise my
voice in anga. I've always gone along to get
along. But you make me lay off the Matzoh and
you're givin' me the needle. I told you the
sheeny was robbin' me blind, I told you I wanna
put him in the ground and I'm telling you now I'm
sick a the high hat.
He swipes his hat from Bluepoint.
. . . You think I'm some guinea fresh off the
boat and you think you can kick me. But I'm too
big for that now.
He puts his hands on the desk and leans towards Leo.
The cords stand out on his ndck.
I'm sick-of takin' the strap from you, Leo. I'm
sick a marchin' down to this goddamn office to
kiss your Irish ass and I'm SICK A THE HIGH HAT!
Caspar stops, out of breath. He is red faced and panting.
Bluepoint has put a gently restraining hand an his shoul-
der.
Leo and Tom stare at Caspar impasssively.
After a beat Caspar shuts his mouth. His eyes lose some of
their glaze. He looks at Bluepoint's hand, turns and
strides towards the door.
Caspar
. . . Youse fuckin' fancy-pants, all of ya.
He opens the docr, but Leo's voice stops him.
Leo
(softly)
Johnny. You're exactly as big as I let you be
and no bigger and don't forget it. Ever.
Caspar looks at Lea from the open doorway. After a beat he
chuckles.
Caspar
Ats right, Leo, you're the big-shot around here.
He dances over at Tom again, then back to Leo:
. . . And I'm just some schnook likes to get
slapped around.
He leaves, Bluepoint following, shutting the door.
After a beat Tom crosses in front of the desk and sits down
in the chair Caspar has just vacated. Leo chuckles and
leans back in his chair.
Leo
Twist a pig's ear. Watch him squeal.
Tom swallows the last of his drink and stares ruminatively
down at his glass.
Tom
. . . Bad play, Leo.
Leo, unfazed, grins at Tom.
Leo
Got up on the wrong side, huh?
Tom
Same side as always.
Leo
That's what I mean. Still owe money to--who's
your bookie? Lazarre?
Tom
Mm.
Leo
I could put it right for you.
Tom
Thanxs Leo, I don't need it.
Leo
In a pig's eye. You haven't played a winner in
six weeks. People'll speak ill of me if I let
him break your legs.
Tom grins back, for the first time.
Tom
People'll say I had it coming.
Leo
And they'll be right, but that ain't the point.
Call me a big-hearted slob, but I'm gonna square
it for ya.
He picks up a phone on his desk and starts to dial.
. . . Yeah, I think I'll do that, this very same
night. Looking at you moping around takes away
all my . . . What did you call it? Joy de veever.
Tom stands and walks over to the desk.
Tom
Joi de vivre.
He takes the receiver from Leo and prongs the phone.
Leo
Well look, if your gonna laugh at me, the hell
with you.
Tom walks to the door, putting an his hat.
Tom
And with you. I'll square myself with Lazarre if
you don't mind. Thats why God invented cards.
He pauses in the doorway and turns back to Leo.
. . . There is something you can do for me.
Leo
Name it.
Tom
Think about what protecting Bernie gets us.
Think about what offending Caspar loses us.
Leo chuckles good-naturedly.
Leo
Come on, Tommy, you know I don't like to think.
Tom has stepped into the hallway and, just as he closes the
door:
Tom
Yeah. Well, think about whether you should start.
The door clicks shut.
CUT TO BLACK
2. FADE IN:
THE WOODS CREDIT SEQUENCE
Although it is day, the tree cover gives an effect of
almost cathedral-like darkness. The sun filters down
through the leaves in gently shifting patterns.
We hear only the sound of the wind and the creaking and
groaning of tree limbs in the breeze.
Head titles are supered over the dissolving series of woods
scenes.
In the last woods scene the angle is low--almost ground-
level. The sun dapples the floor of the forest, which is
carpeted with pine needles.
With a whoosh of rustling leaves the wind gusts a fedora
into frame. For a moment it lies still in the foreground,
sunlight rippling over it, making it seem almost alive.
Then the wind picks up again and the hat tumbles away from
us, end over end, in slow motion into the background,
impossibly far away until . . . it dissappears.
As we fade out, we hear a distant knocking.
3. FADE IN:
CLOSE SHOT TOM
Unshaven, eyes closed, motionless.
The head credits continue over this one-shot scene.
The knocking continues, faintly, offscreen. As we hear a
door opening we pull back to a looser shot, revealinq that
Tom is slumped back on a tired green sofa.
A fat hand enters to shake Tom's shoulder.
Voice
Wake up, Tommy.
Without ocening his eyes:
Tom
I'm awake.
Voice
You're eyes were shut.
Tom
Who're you gonna believe?
Tom sits up, though it seems like an effort. He looks
sick.
From a small mirror behind the couch we see that we are in
the back room of a gambling establishment. The leavings of
a card game litter a table in the middle background.
Tom
. . . How'd I do?
Voice
What do you think. You're a millionaire. You
gonna remember your friends?
Tom reaches up to feel his head, and looks stupidly about.
Tom
. . . Where's my hat?
Voice
You bet it, ya moron. Good thing the game broke
up before you bet your shorts.
After a beat of staring at nothing in particular, Tom
abruptly lurches to his feet and staggers out of frame.
The other man sits heavily onto the couch that Tom has just
vacated. He is Fat Tony, a big man wearing an apron.
He watches as we hear Tom, offscreen, staggering across the
room, bumping into something which scrapes and then
clatters over, opening a door, staggering across tile, and
then vomiting.
Fat Tony watches with mild interest.
Finally:
Tom's Voice
. . . Who left with my hat?
Tony
Verna. Verna and Mink.
Tom
. . . Who?
Louder:
Tony
Mink and Verna.
Offscreen we hear a tap running.
Tom
. . . Thunderclap running tonight?
Tony
Yeah.
Tom
What's she leave at?
Tony
Three-to-one, more'n likely. Lay off, Tom. You
shouldn't go deeper in the hole.
Tom
Tell Lazarre I want five hundred on the nose.
Tony shrugs.
Tony
You would have it.
Tom
. . . Somebody hit me?
Tony
Yeah. Mink hit you.
Tom
. . . Whyzat?
Tony inspects a hangnail on his thumb.
Tony
You asked him to.
4. CUT TO:
A HALLWAY
A loose shot looking over Tom's shoulder as he knocks on an
partment door. Head credits continue.
The door swings open and Verna, an attractive but hard-
looking woman in her late twenties or early thirties looks
coldly out at Tom.
Tom
(still slightly woozy)
Miss me?
Verna
You again. What now?
Tom
I want my hat.
Verna
. . . Is that all you came for?
Tom
Yeah. I want my hat.
Verna
I won it. It's mine.
Tom
What're you gonna do with it?
Verna
Drop dead.
She slams the door.
There is a long, motionless beat. Tom raises his hand and
knocks again, missing the door completely on his first try.
After a knock or two the door swings open again.
Tom
I need a drink.
Verna
Why didn't you say so.
She steps away from the door and Tom enters the apartment.
As the door clicks shut we cut to black, and the last of
the movie's head credits.
Music clays under the credits, mixed in with the woods
sounds we heard earlier. As the last of the credits is
fading to black we hear a distant knocking, and from black
we:
5. CUT TO:
CLOSE SHOT A FEDORA
Lying on a marble bureau top in a dark room. A gently
rippling cookie plays over it--light from a streetlamp
thrown through a curtained window. Reflected in the bureau
mirror behind the fedora we see the soft glow of a burning
cigarette.
REVERSE
Tracking in on Tom, sitting in bed, smoking, staring at the
bureau. The rippling street light plays over him from the
window. We hear a distant knocking.
WIDER
The bedroom, as Tom swings his legs around and gets out of
bed.
Tom throws on a dressing gown and leaves the bedroom
through its double oak pocket doors, closing the doors
behind him.
6. LIVING ROOM
Also dark, lit only by streetlight filtering in.
The knocking is louder here. Tom crosses the room,
silhouetted against the windows, to the apartment's front
door. Light fans in as he opens it.
Shiftng uncomfortably in the hallway is Leo, in an
overcoat and fedora.
Leo
'Lo, Tommy. Sorry about the hour.
Tom
I'll live. What's the rumpus?
Leo
Can i come in?
Tom thinks about this for the slightest beat.
Tom
Sure.
He lets Leo precede him into the living room.
Tom turns on a lamp that sits on a rolling bar.
. . . Drink?
Leo
I wouldn't mind. . . I tried calling earlier.
Tom
I got home late.
As Tom sits down facing Leo with two drinks:
Leo
Well. . . Sorry about the hour.
Tom
Uh-huh.
He waits, with no apparent impatience.
The older man is uncomfortable; he is having trouble
finding the words. Finally he lifts his glass and swallows
it in one gulp.
Leo
. . . Not bad. . .
Tom
Better than the paint we sell at the club.
Leo
That it is. . . That it is. . .
Tom
Thought about cutting Bernie loose?
Leo is shuffling his hat nervously from hand to hand.
Leo
Can't do it, Tommy, can't do it. . . That's sort
of why I'm. . . Tommy. . . I don't know where
Verna is.
Tom fixes him with a level stare, then takes a sip of his
drink.
Tom
Uh-huh.
Leo
I know what you're thinking: What else is new?
But the situation now, I'm worried. . .
Tom blows out air.
Tom
Verna can take care of herself. Maybe better
than you can.
Leo
What does that mean?
Tom stands up, takes Leo's glass and walks back over to the
bar.
Tom
Want another?
Leo
No. What does that mean?
Tom turns to look at Leo, pauses, then decides to speak:
Tom
How far has she got her hooks into you?
Leo
That's a hell of a question.
Tom
It's a grift, Leo. If she didn't need you to
protect her brother from Johnny Caspar, d'you
think she'd still go with you on slow carriage
rides through the park? That is the deal, isn't
it? You keep Bernie under wraps 'till Caspar
cools down?
Leo
Jesus but you're a prickly pear. What's wrong
with her wanting her brother taken care of?
Tom
Not a thing. I don't blame her. She sees the
angle--which is you--and she plays it. She's a
grifter, just like her brother. They probably
had grifter parents and grifter grandparents and
someday they'll each spawn little grifter kids--
Leo
Stop it, Tommy. I don't like to hear my friends
run down. Even by other friends.
Tom shrugs.
Tom
Friendship's got nothing to do with it.
Leo
The hell you say. You do anything to help your
friends. Just like you do anything to kick your
enemies.
Tom
Wrong, Leo. You do things for a reason.
Leo
Okay, Tom, you know the angles--Christ, better
than anybody. But you're wrong about this. You
don't know what's in Verna's heart. . .
Tom stares down into his drink. There is an awkward pause.
Then finally, without looking up:
Tom
Leo, throw her down. And her brother, too. Dump
her.
Leo looks like he has just been stepped on.
Leo
Jesus, Tom. . . Verna's okay. . .
He nods to himself.
She's a little wild, but she's okay. I
like her.
Tom smiles.
Tom
Yeah, you like her. Like the Kaiser likes
cabbage. You're dizzy for her.
Leo scowls at Tom.
Leo
What of it? Jesus, Tom, ain't you ever been bit
by that bug?
Tom
Leo, if she's such an angel, why are you looking
for her at four in the morning?
Leo digs his hands into his pockets and slouches back,
profoundly embarassed.
Leo
I put a tail on her this afternoon.
Tom
Hah!
Leo
Yeah, I asked Rug Daniels to follow her around--
just, you know, just to keep her out of trouble.
Tom
And to tell you what trouble she was managing to
whip up herself.
Leo
It wasn't to spy, Tom; I was worried. After that
meeting with Caspar, well--you can't be too
careful.
Tom
Uh-huh. And what did Rug tell you that has you
scurrying over here?
Leo
That's just it. Nothing. He's disappeared.
Tom laughs humorlessly.
Tom
So you've lost your ladyfriend and the tail you
put an her.
Leo
I guess it does sound pretty sorry at that. . .
He looks from his empty glass up to Tom.
. . . Help me out, Tom. I wouldn't know where to
start looking. You know Rug's crowd, you know
the people Verna runs with. I'm just worried
now, with things the way they are between me and
Caspar--
Tom gives a wave of disgust.
Tom
You shouldn't be confronting Johnny Caspar, it's
what I've been trying to tell you. You can't
trade body blows with him. He's gotten too
strong.
For the first time Leo displays some testiness:
Leo
I reckon I can still trade body blows with any
man in this town. . .
He sighs, looks back down at his drink.
. . . Except you, Tom.
Tom
And Verna.
Leo smiles good-naturedly.
Leo
Okay, give me the needle. I am a sap, I deserve
it. . .
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