FARGO
a screenplay by
Ethan Coen
and
Joel Coen
The following text fades in over black:
This is a true story. The events depicted in this film took place
in Minnesota in 1987. At the request of the survivors, the names
have been changed. Out of respect for the dead, the rest has been
told exactly as it occured.
FLARE TO WHITE
FADE IN FROM WHITE
Slowly the white becomes a barely perceptible image: white
particles wave over a white background. A snowfall.
A car bursts through the curtain of snow.
The car is equipped with a hitch and is towing another car,
a brand-new light brown Cutlass Ciera with the pink sales
sticker showing in its rear window.
As the car roars past, leaving snow swirling in their dirft,
the title of the film fades in.
FARGO
Green highway signs point the way to MOOREHEAD,
MINNESOTA/FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA. The roads for the two cities
diverge. A sign says WELCOME TO NORTH DAKOTA and another
just after says NOW ENTERING FARGO, ND, POP. 44,412.
The car pulls into a Rodeway Inn.
HOTEL LOBBY
A man in his early forties, balding and starting to paunch,
goes to the reception desk. The clerk is an older woman.
CLERK
And how are you today, sir?
MAN
Real good now. I'm checking in
- Mr. Anderson.
The man prints "Jerry Lundega" onto a registration card,
then hastily crosses out the last name and starts to print
"Anderson."
As she types into a computer:
CLERK
Okay, Mr. Anderson, and you're
still planning on staying with
us just the night, then?
ANDERSON
You bet.
HOTEL ROOM
The man turns on the TV, which shows the local evening news.
NEWS ANCHOR
- whether they will go to summer
camp at all. Katie Jensen has
more.
KATIE
It was supposed to be a project
funded by the city council; it
was supposed to benefit those
Fargo-Moorehead children who
would otherwise not be able to
afford to attend a lakeshore
summer camp. But nobody consulted
city controller Stu Jacobson...
CHAIN RESTAURANT
Anderson sits alone at a table finishing dinner. Muzak
plays. A middle-aged waitress approaches holding a pot of
regular coffee in one hand and decaf in the other.
WAITRESS
Can I warm that up for ya there?
ANDERSON
You bet.
The man looks at his watch.
THROUGH A WINDSHIELD
We are pulling into the snowswept parking lot of a one-story
brick building. Broken neon at the top of the building
identifies it as the Jolly Troll Tavern. A troll, also in
neon, holds a champagne glass aloft.
INSIDE
The bar is downscale even for this town. Country music
plays on the jukebox.
Two men are seated in a booth at the back. One is short,
slight, youngish. The other man is somewhat older, and
dour. The table in front of them is littered with empty
long-neck beer bottles. The ashtray is full.
Anderson approaches.
ANDERSON
I'm, uh, Jerry Lundegaard -
YOUNGER MAN
You're Jerry Lundegaard?
JERRY
Yah, Shep Proudfoot said -
YOUNGER MAN
Shep said you'd be here at 7:30.
What gives, man?
JERRY
Shep said 8:30.
YOUNGER MAN
We been sitting here an hour.
I've peed three times already.
JERRY
I'm sure sorry. I - Shep told
me 8:30. It was a mix-up, I
guess.
YOUNGER MAN
Ya got the car?
JERRY
Yah, you bet. It's in the lot
there. Brand-new burnt umber
Ciera.
YOUNGER MAN
Yeah, okay. Well, siddown then.
I'm Carl Showalter and this is
my associate Gaear Grimsrud.
JERRY
Yah, how ya doin'. So, uh, we
all set on this thing, then?
YOUNGER MAN
Sure, Jerry, we're all set. Why
wouldn't we be?
JERRY
Yah, no, I'm sure you are. Shep
vouched for you and all. I got
every confidence in you fellas.
They stare at him. An awkward beat.
JERRY
... So I guess that's it, then.
Here's the keys -
CARL
No, that's not it, Jerry.
JERRY
Huh?
CARL
The new vehicle, plus forty
thousand dollars.
JERRY
Yah, but the deal was, the car
first, see, then the forty
thousand, like as if it was the
ransom. I thought Shep told you -
CARL
Shep didn't tell us much, Jerry.
JERRY
Well, okay, it's -
CARL
Except that you were gonna be
here at 7:30.
JERRY
Yah, well, that was a mix-up, then.
CARL
Yeah, you already said that.
JERRY
Yah. But it's not a whole pay-
in-advance deal. I give you a
brand-new vehicle in advance and -
CARL
I'm not gonna debate you, Jerry.
JERRY
Okay.
CARL
I'm not gonna sit here and debate.
I will say this though: what Shep
told us didn't make a whole lot
of sense.
JERRY
Oh, no, it's real sound. It's
all worked out.
CARL
You want your own wife kidnapped?
JERRY
Yah.
Carl Stares. Jerry looks blankly back.
CARL
... You - my point is, you pay
the ransom - what eighty thousand
bucks? - I mean, you give us
half the ransom, forty thousand,
you keep half. It's like robbing
Peter to play Paul, it doesn't
make any -
JERRY
Okay, it's - see, it's not me
payin' the ransom. The thing is,
my wife, she's wealthy - her dad,
he's real well off. Now, I'm in
a bit of trouble -
CARL
What kind of trouble are you in,
Jerry?
JERRY
Well, that's, that's, I'm not go
inta, inta - see, I just need
money. Now, her dad's real
wealthy -
CARL
So why don't you just ask him
for the money?
Grimsrud, the dour man who has not yet spoken, now softly
puts in with a Swedish-accented voice:
GRIMSRUD
Or your fucking wife, you know.
CARL
Or your fucking wife, Jerry.
JERRY
Well, it's all just part of this -
they don't know I need it, see.
Okay, so there's that. And even
if they did, I wouldn't get it.
So there's that on top, then. See,
these're personal matters.
CARL
Personal matters.
JERRY
Yah. Personal matters that
needn't, uh -
CARL
Okay, Jerry. You're tasking us
to perform this mission, but you,
you won't, uh, you won't - aw,
fuck it, let's take a look at
that Ciera.
MINNEAPOLIS SUBURBAN HOUSE
Jerry enters through the kitchen door, in a parka and a red
plaid Elmer Fudd hat. He stamps snow off his feet. He is
carrying a bag of groceries which he deposits on the kitchen
counter.
JERRY
Hon? Got the growshries.
VOICE
Thank you, hon. How's Fargo?
JERRY
Yah, real good.
VOICE
Dad's here.
DEN
Jerry enters, pulling off his plaid cap.
JERRY
How ya doin', Wade?
Wade Gustafson is mid-sixtyish, vigorous, with a full head
of gray hair. His eyes remain fixed on the TV.
WADE
Yah, pretty good.
JERRY
Whatcha watchin' there?
WADE
Norstars.
JERRY
... Who they playin'?
WADE
OOOoooh!
His reaction synchronizes with a reaction from the crowd.
KITCHEN
Jerry walks back in, taking off his coat. His wife is
putting on an apron. Jerry nods toward the living room.
JERRY
Is he stayin' for supper, then?
WIFE
Yah, I think so... Dad, are you
stayin' for supper?
WADE
(off)
Yah.
DINING ROOM
Jerry, his wife, Wade and Scotty, twelve years old, sit
eating.
SCOTTY
May I be excused?
JERRY
Sure, ya done there?
SCOTTY
Uh-huh. Goin' out.
WIFE
Where are you going?
SCOTTY
Just out. Just McDonald's.
JERRY
Back at 9:30.
SCOTTY
Okay.
WADE
He just ate. And he didn't finish.
He's going to McDonald's instead
of finishing here?
WIFE
He sees his friends there. It's
okay.
WADE
It's okay? McDonald's? What do
you think they do there? They
don't drink milkshakes, I assure
you!
WIFE
It's okay, Dad.
JERRY
Wade, have ya had a chance to
think about, uh, that deal I was
talkin' about, those forty acres
there on Wayzata?
WADE
You told me about it.
JERRY
Yah, you said you'd have a think
about it. I understand it's a
lot of money -
WADE
A heck of a lot. What'd you
say you were gonna put there?
JERRY
A lot. It's a limited -
WADE
I know it's a lot.
JERRY
I mean a parking lot.
WADE
Yah, well, seven hundred and
fifty thousand dollars is a lot
- ha ha ha!
JERRY
Yah, well, it's a chunk, but -
WADE
I thought you were gonna show
it to Stan Grossman. He passes
on this stuff before it gets
kicked up to me.
JERRY
Well, you know Stan'll say no
dice. That's why you pay him.
I'm asking you here, Wade. This
could work out real good for me
and Jean and Scotty -
WADE
Jean and Scotty never have to
worry.
WHITE
A black like curls through the white. Twisting perspective
shows that it is an aerial shot of a two-lane highway,
bordered by snowfields. The highway carries one moving car.
INT. CAR
Carl Showalter is driving. Gaear Grimsrud stares blankly
out.
After a long beat:
GRIMSRUD
Where is Pancakes Hause?
CARL
What?
GRIMSRUD
We stop at Pancakes Hause.
CARL
What're you, nuts? We had
pancakes for breakfast. I gotta
go somewhere I can get a shot
and a beer - and a steak maybe.
Not more fuckin' pancakes. Come
on.
Grimsrud gives him a sour look.
CARL
... Come on, man. Okay, here's
an idea. We'll stop outside of
Brainerd. I know a place there
we can get laid. Wuddya think?
GRIMSRUD
I'm fuckin' hungry now, you know.
CARL
Yeah, yeah, Jesus - I'm sayin',
we'll stop for pancakes, then
we'll get laid. Wuddya think?
GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE
Jerry is sitting in his glassed-in salesman's cubicle just
off the showroom floor. On the other side of his desk sit
an irate customer and his wife.
CUSTOMER
We sat here right in this room and
went over this and over this!
JERRY
Yah, but that TruCoat -
CUSTOMER
I sat right here and said I didn't
want no TruCoat!
JERRY
Yah, but I'm sayin', that TruCoat,
you don't get it and you get
oxidization problems. It'll cost
you a heck of lot more'n five
hunnert -
CUSTOMER
You're sittin' here, you're talkin'
in circles! You're talkin' like
we didn't go over this already!
JERRY
Yah, but this TruCoat -
CUSTOMER
We had us a deal here for nine-
teen-five. You sat there and
darned if you didn't tell me
you'd get this car, these options,
WITHOUT THE SEALANT, for nine-
teen-five!
JERRY
Okay, I'm not sayin' I didn't -
CUSTOMER
You called me twenty minutes ago
and said you had it! Ready to
make delivery, ya says! Come on
down and get it! And here ya are
and you're wastin' my time and
you're wastin' my wife's time and
I'm payin' nineteen-five for this
vehicle here!
JERRY
Well, okay, I'll talk to my boss...
He rises, and, as he leaves:
JERRY
... See, they install that TruCoat
at the factory, there's nothin' we
can do, but I'll talk to my boss.
The couple watch him go to a nearby cubicle.
CUSTOMER
These guys here - these guys!
It's always the same! It's always
more! He's a liar!
WIFE
Please, dear.
CUSTOMER
We went over this and over this -
NEARBY CUBICLE
Jerry sits perched on the desk of another salesman who is
eating lunch as he watches a hockey game on a small portable
TV.
JERRY
So you're goin' to the Gophers
on Sunday?
SALESMAN
You bet.
JERRY
You wouldn't have an extra ticket
there?
SALESMAN
They're playin' the Buckeyes!
JERRY
Yah.
SALESMAN
Ya kiddin'!
JERRY'S CUBICLE
Jerry re-enters.
JERRY
Well, he never done this before,
but seein' as it's special
circumstances and all, he says I
can knock one hunnert off that
TruCoat.
CUSTOMER
One hundred! You lied to me, Mr.
Lundegaard. You're a bald-faced
liar!
Jerry sits staring at his lap.
CUSTOMER
... A fucking liar -
WIFE
Bucky, please!
Jerry mumbles into his lap:
JERRY
One hunnert's the best we can
do here.
CUSTOMER
Oh, for Christ's sake, where's my
goddamn checkbook. Let's get this
over with.
WIDE EXTERIOR: TRUCK STOP
There is a restaurant with many big rigs parked nearby, and
a motel with an outsize Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox
flanking its sign: BLUE OX MOTEL.
MOTEL ROOM
Carl Showalter and Gaear Grimsrud are in the twin beds
having sex with two truck-stop hookers.
CARL
Oh, Jesus, yeah.
HIS HOOKER
There ya go, sugar.
GRIMSRUD
Nnph.
HIS HOOKER
Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah.
LATER
The couples like in their respective beds, gazing at the
offscreen TV.
ED MCMAHON
- Johnny's guests tonight will be
Lee Majors, George Wendt, and Steve
Boutsikaros from the San Diego Zoo,
so keep that dial -
LUNDEGAARD KITCHEN
We hear a morning show on television. Jean Lundegaard is
making coffee in the kitchen as Scott eats cereal at the
table.
JEAN
I'm talkin' about your potential.
SCOTT
(absently)
Uh-huh.
JEAN
You're not a C student.
SCOTT
Uhn.
JEAN
And yet you're gettin' C grades.
It's this disparity there that
concerns your dad and me.
SCOTT
Uh-huh.
JEAN
You know what a disparity is?
SCOTT
(testily)
Yeah!
JEAN
Okay. Well, that's why we don't
want ya goin' out fer hockey.
SCOTT
Oh, man!
The phone rings.
SCOTT
... What's the big deal? It's
an hour -
JEAN
Hold on.
She picks up the phone.
JEAN
... Hello?
PHONE VOICE
Yah, hiya, hon.
JEAN
Oh, hiya, Dad.
WADE
Jerry around?
JEAN
Yah, he's still here - I'll
catch him for ya.
She holds the phone away and calls:
JEAN
... Hon?
VOICE
Yah.
JEAN
It's Dad.
VOICE
Yah...
Jerry enters in shirtsleeves and tie.
JERRY
... Yah, okay...
SCOTT
Look, Dad, there is no fucking
way -
JEAN
Scott!
JERRY
Say, let's watch the language -
He takes the phone.
JERRY
How ya doin', Wade?
WADE
What's goin' on there?
JERRY
Oh, nothing, Wade. How ya doin'
there?
WADE
Stan Grossman looked at your
proposal. Says it's pretty
sweet.
JERRY
No kiddin'?
WADE
We might be innarested.
JERRY
No kiddin'! I'd need the cash
pretty quick there. In order
to close the deal.
WADE
Come by at 2:30 and we'll talk
about it. If your numbers are
right, Stan says its pretty
sweet. Stan Grossman.
JERRY
Yah.
WADE
2:30.
Click. Dial tone.
JERRY
Yah, okay.
GUSTAFSON OLD GARAGE
Jerry wanders through the service area where cars are being
worked on. He stops by an Indian in blue jeans who is
looking at the underside of a car that sits on a hydraulic
lift with a cage light hanging off its innards.
JERRY
Say, Shep, how ya doin' there?
SHEP
Mm.
JERRY
Say, ya know those two fellas
ya put me in touch with, up
there in Fargo?
SHEP
Put you in touch with Grimsrud.
JERRY
Well, yah, but he had a buddy
there. He, uh -
SHEP
Well, I don't vouch for him.
JERRY
Well, that's okay, I just -
SHEP
I vouch for Grimsrud. Who's his
buddy?
JERRY
Carl somethin'?
SHEP
Never heard of him. Don't vouch
for him.
JERRY
Well, that's okay, he's a buddy
of the guy ya vouched for, so I'm
not worryin'. I just, I was
wonderin', see, I gotta get in
touch with 'em for, I might not
need it anymore, sumpn's happenin',
see -
SHEP
Call 'em up.
JERRY
Yah, well, see, I did that, and
I haven't been able to get 'em,
so I thought you maybe'd know an
alternate number or what have ya.
SHEP
Nope.
Jerry slaps his fist into his open palm and snaps his
fingers.
JERRY
Okay, well, real good, then.
CAR
Carl is driving. Grimsrud stares out front.
After a beat:
CARL
... Look at that. Twin Cities.
IDS Building, the big glass one.
Tallest skyscraper in the Midwest.
After the Sears, uh, Chicago...
You never been to Minneapolis?
GRIMSRUD
No.
CARL
... Would it kill you to say
something?
GRIMSRUD
I did.
CARL
"No." First thing you've said
in the last four hours. That's
a, that's a fountain of conversation,
man. That's a geyser. I mean, whoa,
daddy, stand back, man. Shit, I'm
sittin' here driving, man, doin'
all the driving, whole fuckin' way
from Brainerd, drivin', tryin' to,
you know, tryin' to chat, keep
our spirits up, fight the boredom
of the road, and you can't say one
fucking thing just in the way of
conversation.
Grimsurd smokes, gazing out the window.
CARL
... Well, fuck it, I don't have
to talk either, man. See how
you like it...
He drives.
CARL
... Total silence...
JERRY'S CUBICLE
He is on the phone.
JERRY
Yah, real good. How you doin'?
VOICE
Pretty good, Mr. Lundegaard.
You're damned hard to get on the
phone.
JERRY
Yah, it's pretty darned busy here,
but that's the way we like it.
VOICE
That's for sure. Now, I just
need, on these last, these financing
documents you sent us, I can't
read the serial numbers of the
vehicles on here, so I -
JERRY
But I already got the, it's okay,
the loans are in place, I already
got the, the what, the -
VOICE
Yeah, the three hundred and twenty
thousand dollars, you got the money
last month.
JERRY
Yah, so we're all set.
VOICE
Yeah, but the vehicles you were
borrowing on, I just can't read
the serial numbers on your
applicaton. Maybe if you could
just read them to me -
JERRY
But the deal's already done, I
already got the money -
VOICE
Yeah, but we have an audit here,
I just have to know that these
vehicles you're financing with
this money, that they really
exist.
JERRY
Yah, well, they exist all right.
VOICE
I'm sure they do - ha ha! But
I can't read their serial numbers
here. So if you could read me -
JERRY
Well, but see, I don't have 'em
in front a me - why don't I just
fax you over a copy -
VOICE
No, fax is no good, that's what
I have and I can't read the darn
thing -
JERRY
Yah, okay, I'll have my girl
send you over a copy, then.
VOICE
Okay, because if I can't correlate
this note with the specific vehicles,
then I gotta call back that money -
JERRY
Yah, how much money was that?
VOICE
Three hundred and twenty thousand
dollars. See, I gotta correlate
that money with the cars it's being
lent on.
JERRY
Yah, no problem, I'll just fax
that over to ya, then.
VOICE
No, no, fax is -
JERRY
I mean send it over. I'll shoot
it right over to ya.
VOICE
Okay.
JERRY
Okay, real good, then.
CLOSE ON TELEVISION
A morning-show host in an apron stands behind a counter on a
kitchen set.
HOST
So I seperate the - how the heck
do I get the egg out of the shell
without breaking it?
Jean Lundegaard is curled up on the couch with a cup of
coffee, watching the television.
HOSTESS
You just prick a little hole in
the end and blow!
Jean smiles as we hear laughter and applause from the studio
audience. She hears something else - a faint scraping sound
- and looks up.
HOST
Okay, here goes nothing.
The scraping sound persists. Jean sets down her coffee cup
and rises.
From the studio audience:
AUDIENCE
Awoooo!
KITCHEN
We track toward the back door. A curtain is stretched tight
across its window.
Jean pulls the curtain back. Bright sunlight amplified by
snow floods in.
A man in an orange ski mask looks up from the lock.
Jean gasps, drops the curtain, rutns and runs into -
- a taller man, also in a ski mask, already in the house.
We hear the crack of the back-door window being smashed.
The tall man - Gaear Grimsrud - grabs Jean's wrist.
She screams, staring at her own imprisoned wrist, then wraps
her gaping mouth around Grimsrud's gloved thumb and bites
down hard.
He drops her wrist. As Carl enters, she races up the
stairs.
GRIMSRUD
Unguent.
CARL
Huh?
Grimsurd looks at his thumb.
GRIMSRUD
I need ... unguent.
UPSTAIRS BEDROOM
As the two men enter, a door at the far side is slamming
shut. A cord snakes in under the door.
MASTER BATHROOM
Jean, sobbing, frantically pushes at buttons on the princess
phone.
The phone pops out of her hands, jangles across the tile
floor, smashes against the door and then bounces away, its
cord ripped free.
With a groaning sound, the door shifts in its frame.
BEDROOM
Grimsrud has a crowbar jammed in between the bathroom door
and frame, and is working it.
BATHROOM
Jean crosses to a high window above the toilet and throws it
open. Snow that had drifted against the window sifts
lightly in. Jean steps up onto the toilet.
The door creaks, moving as one piece in its frame.
Jean glances back as she steps up from the toilet seat to
the tank.
The groaning of the door ends with the wood around its knob
splintering and the knob itself falling out onto the floor.
The door swings open.
Grimsrud and Carl enter.
THEIR POV
Room empty, window open.
Carl strides to the window and hoists himself out.
Grimsrud opens the medicine cabinet and delicately taps
aside various bottles and tubes, seeking the proper unguent.
He finds a salve but after a moment sets it down, noticing
something in the mirror.
The shower curtain is drawn around the tub.
He steps toward it.
As he reaches for the curtain, it explodes outward, animated
by thrashing limbs.
Jean, screaming, tangled in the curtain, rips it off its
rings and stumbles out into the bedroom. Grimsrud follows.
BEDROOM
Jean rushes toward the door, cloaked by the shower curtain
but awkwardly trying to push it off.
UPSTAIRS LANDING
Still thrashing, Jean crashes against the upstairs railing,
trips on the curtain and falls, thumping crazily down the
stairs.
Grimsrud trots down after her.
A PLAQUE: WADE GUSTAFSON INCORPORTATED
INT. WADE'S OFFICE
Wade sits behind his desk; another man rises as Jerry
enters.
JERRY
How ya doin' there, Stan? How
are ya, Wade?
Stan Grossman shakes his hand.
STAN
Good to see ya again, Jerry. If
these numbers are right, this
looks pretty sweet.
JERRY
Oh, those numbers are all right,
bleemee.
WADE
This is do-able.
STAN
Congratulations, Jerry.
JERRY
Yah, thanks, Stan, it's a pretty -
WADE
What kind of finder's fee were
you looking for?
JERRY
... Huh?
STAN
The financials are pretty thorough,
so the only thing we don't know
is your fee.
JERRY
... My fee? Wade, what the
heck're you talkin' about?
WADE
Stan and I're okay.
JERRY
Yah.
WADE
We're good to loan in.
JERRY
Yah.
WADE
But we never talked about your
fee for bringin' it to us.
JERRY
No, but, Wade, see, I was
bringin' you this deal for you
to loan me the money to put
in. It's my deal here, see?
Wade scowls, looks at Stan.
STAN
Jerry - we thought you were
bringin' us an investment.
JERRY
Yah, right -
STAN
You're sayin' - what're you
sayin'?
WADE
You're sayin' that we put in
all the money and you collect
when it pays off?
JERRY
No, no. I - I'd, I'd - pay you
back the principal, and interest
- heck, I'd go - one over prime -
STAN
We're not a bank, Jerry.
Wade is angry.
WADE
What the heck, Jerry, if I wanted
bank interest on seven hunnert'n
fifty thousand I'd go to Midwest
Federal. Talk to Bill Diehl.
STAN
He's at Norstar.
WADE
He's at -
JERRY
No, see, I don't need a finder's
fee, I need - finder's fee's, what,
ten percent, heck that's not gonna
do it for me. I need the principal.
STAN
Jerry, we're not just going to
give you seven hundred and fifty
thousand dollars.
WADE
What the heck were you thinkin'?
Heck, if I'm only gettin' bank
interest, I'd look for complete
security. Heck, FDIC. I don't
see nothin' like that here.
JERRY
Yah, but I - okay, I would, I'd
guarantee ya your money back.
WADE
I'm not talkin' about your damn
word, Jerry. Geez, what the
heck're you?... Well, look, I
don't want to cut you out of the
loop, but his here's a good deal.
I assume, if you're not innarested,
you won't mind if we move on it
independently.
PARKING LOT
We are high and wide on the office building's parking lot.
Jerry emerges wrapped in a parka, his arms sticking stiffly
out at his sides, his breath vaporizing. He goes to his
car, opens its front door, pulls out a red plastic scraper
and starts methodically scraping off the thin crust of ice
that has developed on his windshield.
The scrape-scrape-scrape sound carries in the frigid air.
Jerry goes into a frenzy, banging the scraper against the
windshield and the hood of his car.
The tantrum passes. Jerry stands pantin, staring at nothing
in particular.
Scrape-scrape-scrape - he goes back to work on the
windshield.
FRONT DOOR
A beat, silent but for a key scraping at the lock.
The door swings open and Jerry edges in, looking about,
holding a sack of groceries.
JERRY
Hon?
He shuts the door.
JERRY
... Got the growshries...
He has already seen the shower curtain on the floor. He
frowns, pokes at it with his foot.
JERRY
... Hon?
UPSTAIRS BATHROOM
Jerry walks in. He sets the groceries down on the toilet
tank.
He looks at the open window, through which snow still sifts
in. He shuts it.
He picks up the small tube of uguent that sits on the sink,
frowns at it, puts it back in the medicine chest.
He looks at the shower curtain rod holding empty rings.
FOYER
Once again we are looking at the rumpled shower curtain.
From another room:
JERRY
Yah, Wade, I - it's Jerry, I.
Then, slightly more agitated.
JERRY
... Yah, Wade, it's, I, it's
Jerry...
Beat.
JERRY
... Wade, it's Jerry, I - we
gotta talk, Wade, it's terrible...
Beat.
LIVING ROOM
Jerry stands in wide shot, hands on hips, looking down at a
telephone.
After a motionless beat he picks up the phone and punches in
a number.
JERRY
... Yah, Wade Gustafson, please.
BLACK
Hold in black.
A slow tilt down from night sky brings the head of a large
paper-mache figure into frame. It is a flannel-shirt
woodsman carrying a double-edged ax over one shoulder. As
we hear the rumble of an approaching car, the continuing
tilt and boom down brings us down the woodsman's body to a
pedestal.
A sweep of headlights illuminates a sign on the pedestal:
WELCOME TO BRAINDERD - HOME OF PAUL BUNYAN.
The headlights sweep off and a car hums past and on into the
background. The two-lane highway is otherwise empty.
INT. CAR
Carl drives. Grimsrud smokes and gazes out the window.
From the back seat we hear whimpering.
Grimsrud turns to look.
Jean lies bound and curled on the back seat underneath a
tarpaulin.
GRIMSRUD
Shut the fuck up or I'll throw
you back in the trunk, you know.
CARL
Geez. That's more'n I've heard
you say all week.
Grimsrud stares at him, then turns back to the window.
At a loud WHOOP Carl starts and looks back out the rear
window. Fifty yards behind a state trooper has turned on
his gumballs.
Carl eases the car onto the shoulder.
CARL
Ah, shit, the tags...
Grimsrud looks at him.
CARL
... It's just the tags. I never
put my tags on the car. Don't
worry, I'll take care of this.
He looks into the back seat as the car bounces and slows on
the gravel shoulder.
CARL
... Let's keep still back there,
lady, or we're gonna have to, ya
know, to shoot ya.
Grimsrud stares at Carl.
CARL
... Hey! I'll take care of this!
Both cars have stopped. Carl looks up at the rear-view
mirror.
The trooper is stopped on the shoulder just behind them,
writing in his citation book.
Carl watches.
We hear the trooper's door open.
The trooper walks up the shoulder, one hand resting lightly
on top of his holster, his breath steaming in the cold night
air.
Carl opens his window as the trooper draws up.
CARL
How can I help you, officer?
The trooper scans the inside of the car, taking his time.
Grimsrud smokes and gazes calmly out his window.
Finally:
TROOPER
This is a new car, then, sir?
CARL
It certainly is, officer. Still
got that smell!
TROOPER
You're required to display
temporary tags, either in the
plate area or taped inside the
back window.
CARL
Certainly -
TROOPER
Can I see your license and
registration please?
CARL
Certainly.
He reaches for his wallet.
CARL
... I was gonna tape up the
temporary tag, ya know, to be
in full compliance, but it, uh,
it, uh ... must a slipped my
mind...
He extends his wallet toward the trooper, a folded fifty-
dollar bill protruding from it.
CARL
... So maybe the best thing
would be to take care of that,
right here in Brainerd.
TROOPER
What's this, sir?
CARL
That's my license and regis-
tration. I wanna be in
compliance.
He forces a laugh.
CARL
... I was just thinking I could
take care of it right here. In
Brainerd.
The policeman thoughtfully pats the fifty into the billfold
and hands the billfold back into the car.
TROOPER
Put that back in your pocket,
please.
Carl's nervous smile fades.
TROOPER
... And step out of the car,
please, sir.
Grimsrud, smiling thinly, shakes his head.
There is a whimpering sound.
The policeman hesitates.
Another sound.
The policeman leans forward into the car, listening.
Grimsrud reaches across Carl, grabs the trooper by the hair
and slams his head down onto the car door.
The policeman grunts, digs awkwardly for footing outside and
throws an arm for balance against the outside of the car.
With his free hand, Grimsrud pops the glove compartment. He
brings a gun out and reaches across Carl and shoots - BANG -
into the back of the trooper's head.
Jean screams.
GRIMSRUD
Shut up.
He releases the policeman.
The policeman's head slides out the window and his body
flops back onto the street.
Carl looks out at the cop in the road.
CARL
(softly)
Whoa... Whoa, Daddy.
Grimsrud takes the trooper's hat off of Carl's lap and sails
it out the open window.
GRIMSRUD
You'll take care of it. Boy, you
are smooth smooth, you know.
CARL
Whoa, Daddy.
Jean, for some reason, screams again. Then stops.
GRIMSRUD
Clear him off the road.
CARL
Yeah.
He gets out.
EXT. ROAD
Carl leans down to hoist up the body.
Headlights appear: an oncoming car.
INT. CIERA
Grimsrud notices.
EXT. ROAD
The car approaches, slowing.
Carl, with the trooper's body hoisted halfway up, is frozen
in the headlights.
The car accelerates and roars past and away. We just make
out the silhouettes of two occupants in front.
INT. CIERA
Grimsrud slides into the driver's seat. He squeals into a U-
turn, the driver's door slamming shut with his spin.
Small red tail lights fishtail up ahead. The pursued car
churns up fine snow.
Grimsrud takes the cigarette from his mouth and stubs it in
his ashtray. We hear the churning of the car wheels and the
pinging of snow clods and salt on the car's underside.
In the back seat, Jean starts screaming.
Grimsrud is not gaining on the tail lights.
He fights with the wheel as his car swims on the road face.
The red tail lights ahead start to turn. With a distant
crunching sound, they disappear.
The headlights now show only empty road, starting to turn.
Grimsrud frowns and slows.
His headlights show the car up ahead off the road, crumpled
around a telephone pole, having failed to hold a turn.
Grimsrud brakes.
Jean slides off the back seat and thumps into the legwell.
Grimsrud sweeps his gun off the front seat, throws open his
door and gets out.
EXT. ROAD
The wrecked car's headlights shine off into a snowfield
abutting the highway. A young man in a down parka is
limping across the snowfield, away from the wrecked car.
Grimsrud strides calmly out after the injured boy. He
raises his gun and fires.
With a poof of feathers, a hole opens up in the boy's back
and he pitches into the snow.
Grimsrud walks up to the wreck and peers in its half-open
door.
A young woman is trapped inside the twisted wreckage,
injured.
Snow swirls in the headlights of the wreck.
Grimsrud raises his gun and fires.
AN OIL PAINTING
A blue-winged teal in flight over a swampy marshland. The
room in which it hangs is dark. We hear off-screen snoring.
We track off to reveal an easel upon which we see a half-
completed oil of a grey mallard.
The continuing track reveals a couple in bed, sleeping. The
man, fortyish, pajama-clad, is big, and big-bellied. His
mouth is agape. He snores. His arms are flung over a woman
in her thirties, wearing a nightie, mouth also open, not
snoring.
We hold for a long beat on their regular breathing and
snoring.
The phone rings.
The woman stirs.
WOMAN
Oh, geez...
She reaches for the phone.
WOMAN
... Hi, it's Marge...
The man stirs and clears his throat with a long deep rumble.
MARGE
... Oh, my. Where?... Yah...
Oh, geez...
The man sits up, gazes stupidly about.
MARGE
... Okay. There in a jif...
Real good, then.
She hangs up.
MARGE
... You can sleep, hon. It's
early yet.
MAN
Gotta go?
MARGE
Yah.
The man swings his legs out.
MAN
I'll fix ya some eggs.
MARGE
That's okay, hon. I gotta run.
MAN
Gotta eat a breakfast, Marge.
I'll fix ya some eggs.
MARGE
Aw, you can sleep, hon.
MAN
Ya gotta eat a breakfast...
He clears his throat with another deep rumble.
MAN
... I'll fix ya some eggs.
MARGE
Aw, Norm.
PLATE
Leavings of a huge plate of eggs, ham, toast.
Wider, we see Marge now wearing a beige police uniform. A
patch on one arm says BRAINERD POLICE DEPARTMENT. She wears
a heavy belt holding a revolver, walkie-talkie and various
other jangling police impedimenta. Norm is in a dressing
gown.
MARGE
Thanks, hon. Time to shove off.
NORM
Love ya, Margie.
As she struggles into a parka:
MARGE
Love ya, hon.
He is exiting back to the bedroom; she exits out the front
door.
EXT. GUNDERSON HOUSE
Dawn. Marge is making her way down the icy front stoop to
her prowler.
INT. GUNDERSON HOUSE
Norm sits back onto the bed, shrugging off his robe. Off-
screen we hear the front door open.
FRONT DOOR
Marge stamps the snow off her shoes.
MARGE
Hon?
NORM
(off)
Yah?
MARGE
Prowler needs a jump.
HIGHWAY
Two police cars and an ambulance sit idling at the side of
the road, a pair of men inside each car.
The first car's driver door opens and a figure in a parka
emerges, holding two styrofoam cups. His partner leans
across the seat to close the door after him.
The reverse shows Marge approaching from her own squad car.
MARGE
Hiya, Lou.
LOU
Margie. Thought you might need
a little warm-up.
He hands her one of the cups of coffee.
MARGE
Yah, thanks a bunch. So what's
the deal, now? Gary says triple
homicide?
LOU
Yah, looks pretty bad. Two
of'm're over here.
Marge looks around as they start walking.
MARGE
Where is everybody?
LOU
Well - it's cold, Margie.
BY THE WRECK
Laid out in the early morning light is the wrecked car, a
pair of footprints leading out to a man in a bright orange
parka face down in the bloodstained snow, and one pair of
footsteps leading back to the road.
Marge is peering into the car.
MARGE
Ah, geez. So... Aw, geez.
Here's the second one... It's
in the head and the ... hand
there, I guess that's a defensive
wound. Okay.
Marge looks up from the car.
MARGE
... Where's the state trooper?
Lou, up on the shoulder, jerks his thumb.
LOU
Back there a good piece. In
the ditch next to his prowler.
Marge looks around at the road.
MARGE
Okay, so we got a state trooper
pulls someone over, we got a
shooting, and these folks drive
by, and we got a high-speed
pursuit, ends here, and this
execution-type deal.
LOU
Yah.
MARGE
I'd be very surprised if our
suspect was from Brainerd.
LOU
Yah.
Marge is studying the ground.
MARGE
Yah. And I'll tell you what, from
his footprints he looks like a big
fella -
Marge suddenly doubles over, putting her head between her
knees down near the snow.
LOU
Ya see something down there, Chief?
MARGE
Uh - I just, I think I'm gonna barf.
LOU
Geez, you okay, Margie?
MARGE
I'm fine - it's just morning
sickness.
She gets up, sweeping snow from her knees.
MARGE
... Well, that passed.
LOU
Yah?
MARGE
Yah. Now I'm hungry again.
LOU
You had breakfast yet, Margie?
MARGE
Oh, yah. Norm made some eggs.
LOU
Yah? Well, what now, d'ya think?
MARGE
Let's go take a look at that
trooper.
BY THE STATE TROOPER'S CAR
Marge's prowler is parked nearby.
Marge is on her hands and knees by a body down in the ditch,
again looking at footprints in the snow. She calls up to
the road:
MARGE
There's two of 'em, Lou!
LOU
Yah?
MARGE
Yah, this guy's smaller than
his buddy.
LOU
Oh, yah?
DOWN IN THE DITCH
In the foreground is the head of the state trooper, facing
us. Peering at it from behind, still on her hands and
knees, is Marge.
MARGE
For Pete's sake.
She gets up, clapping the snow off her hands, and climbs out
of the ditch.
LOU
How's it look, Marge?
MARGE
Well, he's got his gun on his hip
there, and he looks like a nice
enough guy. It's a real shame.
LOU
Yah.
MARGE
You haven't monkeyed with his car
there, have ya?
LOU
No way.
She is looking at the prowler, which still idles on the
shoulder.
MARGE
Somebody shut his lights. I guess
the little guy sat in there, waitin'
for his buddy t'come back.
LOU
Yah, woulda been cold out here.
MARGE
Heck, yah. Ya think, is Dave open
yet?
LOU
You don't think he's mixed up in -
MARGE
No, no, I just wanna get Norm some
night crawlers.
INT. PROWLER
Marge is driving; Lou sits next to her.
MARGE
You look in his citation book?
LOU
Yah...
He looks at his notebook.
LOU
... Last vehicle he wrote in
was a tan Ciera at 2:18 a.m.
Under the plate number he put
DLR - I figure they stopped him
or shot him before he could finish
fillin' out the tag number.
MARGE
Uh-huh.
LOU
So I got the state lookin' for a
Ciera with a tag startin' DLR.
They don't got no match yet.
MARGE
I'm not sure I agree with you a
hunnert percent on your policework,
there, Lou.
LOU
Yah?
MARGE
Yah, I think that vehicle there
probly had dealer plates. DLR?
LOU
Oh...
Lou gazes out the window, thinking.
LOU
... Geez.
MARGE
Yah. Say, Lou, ya hear the one
about the guy who couldn't afford
personalized plates, so he went
and changed his name to J2L 4685?
LOU
Yah, that's a good one.
MARGE
Yah.
THE ROAD
The police car enters with a whoosh and hums down a straight-
ruled empty highway, cutting a landscape of flat and perfect
white.
EMBERS FAMILY RESTAURANT
Jerry, Wade, and Stan Grossman sit in a booth, sipping
coffee. Outside the window, snow falls from a gunmetal sky.
WADE
- All's I know is, ya got a
problem, ya call a professional!
JERRY
No! They said no cops! They were
darned clear on that, Wade! They
said you call the cops and we -
WADE
Well, a course they're gonna say
that! But where's my protection?
They got Jean here! I give these
sons a bitches a million dollars,
where's my guarantee they're gonna
let her go.
JERRY
Well, they -
WADE
A million dollars is a lot a damn
money! And there they are, they
got my daughter!
JERRY
Yah, but think this thing through
here, Wade. Ya give 'em what they
want, why wont' they let her go?
You gotta listen to me on this one,
Wade.
WADE
Heck, you don't know! You're just
whistlin' Dixie here! I'm sayin',
the cops, they can advise us on
this! I'm sayin' call a professional!
JERRY
No! No cops! That's final! This
is my deal here, Wade! Jean is
my wife here!
STAN
I gotta tell ya, Wade, I'm leanin'
to Jerry's viewpoint here.
WADE
Well -
STAN
We gotta protect Jean. These -
we're not holdin' any cards here,
Wade, they got all of 'em. So
they call the shots.
JERRY
You're darned tootin'!
WADE
Ah, dammit!
STAN
I'm tellin' ya.
WADE
Well... Why don't we...
He saws a finger under his nose.
WADE
... Stan, I'm thinkin' we should
offer 'em half a million.
JERRY
Now come on here, no way, Wade!
No way!
STAN
We're not horse-trading here, Wade,
we just gotta bite the bullet on
this thing.
JERRY
Yah!
STAN
What's the next step here, Jerry?
JERRY
They're gonna call, give me
instructions for a drop. I'm
supposed to have the money ready
tomorrow.
WADE
Dammit!
THE CASHIER
She rings up two dollars forty.
CASHIER
How was everything today?
JERRY
Yah, real good now.
PARKING LOT
Snow continues to fall. Jerry and Stan stand bundled in
their parkas and galoshes near a row of beached vehicles.
Wade sits behind the wheel of an idling Lincoln, waiting for
Stan.
STAN
Okay. We'll get the money together.
Don't worry about it, Jerry. Now,
d'you want anyone at home, with you,
until they call?
JERRY
No, I - they don't want - they're
just s'posed to be dealin' with
me, they were real clear.
STAN
Yah.
Jerry pounds his mittened hands together against the cold.
JERRY
Ya know, they said no one listenin'
in, they'll be watchin', ya know.
Maybe it's all bull, but like you
said, Stan, they're callin' the
shots.
STAN
Okay. And Scotty, is he gonna
be all right?
JERRY
Yah, geez, Scotty. I'll go talk
to him.
There is a tap at the horn from Wade, and Stan gets into the
Lincoln.
STAN
We'll call.
The Lincoln spits snow as it grinds out of the lot and
fishtails out onto the boulevard.
SCOTTY'S BEDROOM
Scotty lies on the bed, weeping. Jerry enters and perches
uncomfortably on the edge of his bed.
JERRY
... How ya doin' there, Scotty?
SCOTT
Dad! What're they doing? Wuddya
think they're doin' with Mom?
JERRY
It's okay, Scotty. They're not
gonna want to hurt her any.
These men, they just want money,
see.
SCOTT
What if - what if sumpn goes wrong?
JERRY
No, no, nothin's goin' wrong here.
Grandad and I, we're - we're makin'
sure this gets handled right.
Scott snorfles and sits up.
SCOTT
Dad, I really think we should call
the cops.
JERRY
No! We can't let anyone know about
this thing! We gotta play ball with
these guys - you ask Stan Grossman,
he'll tell ya the same thing!
SCOTT
Yeah, but -
JERRY
We're gonna get Mom back for ya, but
we gotta play ball. Ya know, that's
the deal. Now if Lorraine calls, or
Sylvia, you just say that Mom is in
Florida with Pearl and Marty...
Scotty starts to weep again. Jerry stares down at his lap.
JERRY
... That's the best we can do here.
EXT. CABIN
It is a lakeside cabin surrounded by white. A brown Ciera
with dealer plates is pulling into the drive.
Grimsrud climbs out of the passenger seat as Carl climbs out
of the driver's. Grimsrud opens the back door and, with an
arm on her elbow, helps Jean out. She has her hands tied
behind her and a black hood over her head.
With a cry, she swings her elbow out of Grimsrud's grasp and
lurches away across the front lawn. Grimsrud moves to
retrieve her but Carl, grinning, lays a hand on his
shoulder.
CARL
Hold it.
They both look out at the front lawn, Grimsrud
expressionless, Carl smiling.
With muffled cries, the hooded woman lurches across the
unbroken snow, staggering this way and that, stumbling on
the uneven terrain.
She stops, stands still, her hooded head swaying.
She lurches out in an arbitrary direction. Going downhill,
she reels, staggers, and falls face-first into the snow,
weeping.
CARL
Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Jesus!
Grimsrud, still expressionless, breaks away from Carl's
restraining hand to retrieve her.
BRAINERD POLICE HEADQUARTERS
We track behind Marge as she makes her way across the floor,
greeting various officers. She holds a small half-full
paper sack.
Beyond her we see a small glassed-in cublcle. Norm sits at
the desk inside with a box lunch spread out in front of him.
There is lettering on the cubicle's glass door: BRAINERD
PD. CHIEF GUNDERSON.
Marge enters and sits behind the desk, detaching her walkie-
talkie from her utility belt to accomodate the seat.
MARGE
Hiya, hon.
She slides the paper sack toward him.
NORM
Brought ya some lunch, Margie.
What're those, night crawlers?
He looks inside.
The bottom of the sack is full of fat, crawling earthworms.
MARGE
Yah.
NORM
Thanks, hon.
MARGE
You bet. Thanks for lunch. What
do we got here, Arbie's?
NORM
Uh-huh.
She starts eating.
MARGE
... How's the paintin' goin'?
NORM
Pretty good. Found out the Hautmans
are entering a painting this year.
MARGE
Aw, hon, you're better'n them.
NORM
They're real good.
MARGE
They're good, Norm, but you're
better'n them.
NORM
Yah, ya think?
He leans over and kisses her.
MARGE
Ah, ya got Arbie's all o'er me.
Lou enters.
LOU
Hiya, Norm, how's the paintin'
goin'?
NORM
Not too bad. You know.
MARGE
How we doin' on that vehicle?
LOU
No motels registered any tan Ciera
last night. But the night before,
two men checked into the Blue Ox
registering a Ciera and leavin' the
tag space blank.
MARGE
Geez, that's a good lead. The
Blue Ox, that's that trucker's
joint out there on I-35?
LOU
Yah. Owner was on the desk then,
said these two guys had company.
MARGE
Oh, yah?
EXT. STRIPPER CLUB
Marge's prowler is parked in an otherwise empty lot. Snow
drifts down.
INT. STRIPPER CLUB
Marge sits talking with two young women at one end of an
elevated dance platform. The club, not yet open for
business, is deserted.
MARGE
Where you girls from?
HOOKER ONE
Chaska.
HOOKER TWO
LeSeure. But I went to high school
in White Bear Lake.
MARGE
Okay, I want you to tell me what
these fellas looked like.
HOOKER ONE
Well, the little guy, he was
kinda funny-looking.
MARGE
In what way?
HOOKER ONE
I dunno. Just funny-looking.
MARGE
Can you be any more specific?
HOOKER ONE
I couldn't really say. He wasn't
circumcised.
MARGE
Was he funny-looking apart from
that?
HOOKER ONE
Yah.
MARGE
So you were having sex with the
little fella, then?
HOOKER ONE
Uh-huh.
MARGE
Is there anything else you can
tell me about him?
HOOKER ONE
No. Like I say, he was funny-looking.
More'n most people even.
MARGE
And what about the other fella?
HOOKER TWO
He was a little older. Looked like
the Marlboro man.
MARGE
Yah?
HOOKER TWO
Yah. Maybe I'm sayin' that cause
he smoked Marlboros.
MARGE
Uh-huh.
HOOKER TWO
A subconscious-type thing.
MARGE
Yah, that can happen.
HOOKER TWO
Yah.
HOOKER ONE
They said they were goin' to the
Twin Cities?
MARGE
Oh, yah?
HOOKER TWO
Yah.
HOOKER ONE
Yah. Is that useful to ya?
MARGE
Oh, you bet, yah.
EXT. LAKESIDE CABIN
It is now dusk. The brown Ciera with dealer plates still
sits in the drive.
INT. CABIN
We track in on Jean Lundegaard, who sits tied in a chair
with the black hood still over her head. As we track in, we
hear inarticulate cursing, intermittent banging and loud
static.
We track in on Gaear Grimsrud, who sits smoking a cigarette
and expressionlessly gazing offscreen.
We track in on Carl Showalter, who stands over an old black-
and-white television. It plays nothing but snow. Carl is
banging on it as he mutters:
CARL
...days ... be here for days with
a - DAMMIT! - a goddamn mute ...
nothin' to do ... and the fucking -
DAMMIT!...
Each "dammit" brings a pound of his fist on the TV.
CARL
... TV doesn't even ... plug me
in, man... Gimmee a - DAMMIT! -
signal... Plug me into the
ozone, baby... Plug me into the
ozone - FUCK!...
With one last bang we cut:
BACK TO THE TELEVISION SET
In extreme close-up an insect is lugging a worm.
TV VOICE-OVER
The bark beetle carries the worm
to the nest ... where it will feed
its young for up to six weeks...
A pull back from the screen reveals that we are in Marge's
house.
Marge and Norm are watching television in bed. From the TV
we hear insects chirring.
After a long beat, silence except for the TV, Marge murmurs,
still looking at the set:
MARGE
... Well, I'm turnin' in, Norm.
Also looking at the TV:
NORM
... Oh, yah?
Marge rolls over and Norm continues to watch.
We hold.
BLACK
Hold.
A snowflake drops through the black.
Another flake.
It starts snowing.
BRAINERD MAIN STREET
The lone traffic light blinks slowly, steadily, red. Snow
sifts down. There is no other movement.
PAUL BUNYAN
We are looking up at the bottom-lit statue. Snow falls.
HIGH SHOT OF MARGE'S HOUSE
Snow drops away.
HIGH SHOT IN MARGE'S BEDROOM
The bedroom is dark. Norm is snoring.
The phone rings.
Marge gropes in the dark.
MARGE
Hello?
VOICE
Yah, is this Marge?
MARGE
Yah?
VOICE
Margie Olmstead?
MARGE
... Well, yah. Who's this?
VOICE
This is Mike Yanagita. Ya know
- Mike Yanagita. Remember me?
MARGE
... Mike Yanagita!
MIKE
Yah!
Marge props herself up next to the still-sleeping Norm.
MARGE
Yah, yah, course I remember.
How are ya? What time is it?
MIKE
Oh, geez. It's quarter to eleven.
I hope I dint wake you.
MARGE
No, that's okay.
MIKE
Yah, I'm down in the Twin Cities
and I was just watching on TV
about these shootings up in
Brainderd, and I saw you on the
news there.
MARGE
Yah.
MIKE
I thought, geez, is that Margie
Olmstead? I can't believe it!
MARGE
Yah, that's me.
MIKE
Well, how the heck are ya?
MARGE
Okay, ya know. Okay.
MIKE
Yah?
MARGE
Yah - how are you doon?
MIKE
Oh, pretty good.
MARGE
Heck, it's been such a long time,
Mike. It's great to hear from ya.
MIKE
Yah... Yah, yah. Geeze, Margie!
GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE
Jerry is on the sales floor, showing a customer a vehicle.
JERRY
Yah, ya got yer, this loaded here,
this has yer independent, uh, yer
slipped differential, uh, yer rack-
and-pinion steering, yer alarm and
radar, and I can give it to ya with
a heck of a sealant, this TruCoat
stuff, it'll keep the salt off -
CUSTOMER
Yah, I don't need no sealant though.
JERRY
Yah, you don't need that. Now
were you thinking of financing here?
You oughta be aware a this GMAC
plan they have now, it's really
super -
ANOTHER SALESMAN
Jerry, ya got a call here.
JERRY
Yah, okay.
JERRY'S CUBICLE
He sits in and picks up his phone.
JERRY
Jerry Lundegaard.
VOICE
All right, Jerry, you got this
phone to yourself?
JERRY
Well ... yah.
VOICE
Know who this is?
JERRY
Well, yah, I got an idea. How's
that Ciera workin' out for ya?
VOICE
Circumstances have changed, Jerry.
JERRY
Well, what do ya mean?
VOICE
Things have changed. Circumstances,
Jerry. Beyond the, uh ... acts of
God, force majeure...
JERRY
What the - how's Jean?
A beat.
CARL
... Who's Jean?
JERRY
My wife! What the - how's -
CARL
Oh, Jean's okay. But there's
three people up in Brainerd who
aren't so okay, I'll tell ya that.
JERRY
What the heck're you talkin' about?
Let's just finish up this deal
here -
CARL
Blood has been shed, Jerry.
Jerry sits dumbly. The voice solemnly repeats:
CARL
... Blood has been shed.
JERRY
What the heck d'ya mean?
CARL
Three people. In Brainerd.
JERRY
Oh, geez.
CARL
That's right. And we need more
money.
JERRY
The heck d'ya mean? What a you
guys got yourself mixed up in?
CARL
We need more -
JERRY
This was s'posed to be a no-rough
-stuff-type deal -
CARL
DON'T EVER INTERRUPT ME, JERRY!
JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!
JERRY
Well, I'm sorry, but I just - I -
CARL
Look. I'm not gonna debate you,
Jerry. The price is now the whole
amount. We want the entire eighty
thousand.
JERRY
Oh, for Chrissakes here -
CARL
Blood has been shed. We've incurred
risks, Jerry. I'm coming into town
tomorrow. Have the money ready.
JERRY
Now we had a deal here! A deal's
a deal!
CARL
IS IT, JERRY? You ask those three
pour souls up in Brainerd if a
deal's a deal! Go ahead, ask 'em!
JERRY
... The heck d'ya mean?
CARL
I'll see you tomorrow.
Click.
Jerry slams down the phone, which immediately rings. He
angrily snatches it up.
JERRY
Yah!
VOICE
Jerome Lundegaard?
JERRY
Yah!
VOICE
This is Reilly Deifenbach at GMAC.
Sir, I have not yet recieved those
vehicle IDs you promised me.
JERRY
Yah! I ... those are in the mail.
VOICE
Mr. Lundegaard, that very well may
be. I must inform you, however,
that absent the reciept of those
numbers by tomorrow afternoon, I
will have to refer this matter to
our legal department.
JERRY
Yah.
VOICE
My patience is at an end.
JERRY
Yah.
VOICE
Good day, sir.
JERRY
... Yah.
WIDE ON THE CUBICLE
We are looking at Jerry's cubicle from across the showroom.
Noise muted by distance, we watch Jerry slam down the
reciever, rise to his feet, fling the phone to the floor,
raise his desk blotter high over his head with pens and
pencils rolling off it and slam it onto his desktop.
He stands for a moment, hands on hips, glaring.
He stoops and picks up the phone, places it back on the
desktop, starts picking up the pens and pencils.
TRACK
On steam-table bins of food, each identified by a plaque:
BEEF STROGANOFF, SWEDISH MEATBALLS, BROILED TORSK, CHICKEN
FLORENTINE.
A complementary track shows two rays being pushed along a
buffet line, piled high with many foods.
MARGE AND NORM AT A TABLE
They sit next to each other at a long cafateria-style
Formica table, silently eating.
A hip with a hissing walkie-talkie enters frame.
GARY
Hiya, Norm. How ya doin', Margie?
How's the fricasse?
MARGE
Pretty darn good, ya want some?
GARY
No, I gotta - hey, Norm, I thought
you were goin' fishin' up at Mile
Lacs?
NORM
Yah, after lunch.
He goes back to his food.
MARGE
Whatcha got there?
Gary hands her a flimsy. Marge takes it with one hand and
looks, her other hand frozen with a forkful of food.
GARY
The numbers y'asked for, calls
made from the lobby pay phone
at the Blue Ox. Two to Minneapolis
that night.
MARGE
Mm.
GARY
First one's a trucking company,
second one's a private residence.
A Shep Proudfoot.
MARGE
Uh-huh... A what?
GARY
Shep Proudfoot. That's a name.
MARGE
Uh-huh.
GARY
Yah.
MARGE
... Yah, okay, I think I'll
drive down there, then.
GARY
Oh, yah? Twin Cities?
Norm, who has been eating steadily throughout, looks over at
Marge with mild interest. He stares for a beat as he
finishes chewing, and them swallows and says:
NORM
... Oh, yah?
KITCHEN OF LUNDEGAARD HOUSE
Jerry, Wade, and Stan Grossman sit around the kitchen table.
It is night. The scene is harshly toplit by a hanging
fixture. On the table are the remains of coffee and a
cinammon filbert ring.
WADE
Dammit! I wanna be a part a
this thing!
JERRY
No, Wade! They were real clear!
They said they'd call tomorrow,
with instructions, and it's gonna
be delivered by me alone!
WADE
It's my money, I'll deliver it
- what do they care?
STAN
Wade's got a point there. I'll
handle the call if you want, Jerry.
JERRY
No, no. See - they, no, see, they
only deal with me. Ya feel this,
this nervousness on the phone there,
they're very - these guys're
dangerous -
WADE
All the more reason! I don't want
you - with all due respect, Jerry
- I don't want you mucking this up.
JERRY
The heck d'ya mean?
WADE
They want my money, they can deal
with me. Otherwise I'm goin' to
a professional.
He points at a briefcase.
WADE
... There's a million dollars
here!
JERRY
No, see -
WADE
Look, Jerry, you're not sellin'
me a damn car. It's my show here.
That's that.
STAN
It's the way we prefer to handle
it, Jerry.
THE DOWNTOWN RADISSON HOTEL
Marge is at the reception desk.
MARGE
How ya doin'?
CLERK
Real good. How're you today, ma'am?
MARGE
Real good. I'm Mrs. Gunderson, I
have a reservation.
The clerk types into a computer console.
CLERK
You sure do, Mrs. Gunderson.
MARGE
Is there a phone down here, ya think?
LOBBY CORNER
Marge is on a public phone.
MARGE
... Detective Sibert? Yah, this
is Marge Gunderson from up Brainerd,
we spoke - Yah. Well, actually
I'm in town here. I had to do a
few things in the Twin Cities, so
I thought I'd check in with ya about
that USIF search on Shep Proudfoot...
Oh, yah?... Well, maybe I'll go
visit with him if I have the... No,
I can find that... Well, thanks a
bunch. Say, d'ya happen to know a
good place for lunch in the downtown
area?... Yah, the Radisson... Oh,
yah? Is it reasonable?
A GREEN FREEWAY SIGN
Through a windshield we see a sign for the MINNEAPOLIS
INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT.
ROOFTOP PARKING LOT
The brown Ciera enters and drives lazy S-curves around the
few snow-covered cars parked on the roof of the lot.
It stops by one car and Carl emerges. He quickly scans the
lot, then kneels in the snow at the back of the parked car
and starts unscrewing its license plate.
EXIT BOOTH
Carl pulls up and hands the attendant his ticket.
CARL
Yeah, I decided not to park here.
The attendant frowns uncomprehendingly at the ticket.
ATTENDANT
... What do you mean, you decided
not to park here?
CARL
Yeah, I just came in. I decided
not to park here.
The attendant is still puzzled.
ATTENDANT
You, uh... I'm sorry, sir, but -
CARL
I decided not to - I'm, uh, not
taking the trip as it turns out.
ATTENDANT
I'm sorry, sir, we do have to
charge you the four dollars.
CARL
I just pulled in here. I just
fucking pulled in here!
ATTENDANT
Well, see, there's a minimum charge
of four dollars. Long-term parking
charges by the day.
A car behind beeps. Carl glances back, starts digging for
money.
CARL
I guess you think, ya know, you're
an authority figure. With that
stupid fucking uniform. Huh, buddy?
The attendant doesn't say anything.
CARL
... King Clip-on Tie here. Big
fucking man.
He is peeling off one dollar bills.
CARL
... You know, these are the limits
of your life, man. Ruler of your
little fucking gate here. There's
your four dollars. You pathetic
piece of shit.
GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE
Jerry is staring up, mouth agape, at the underside of a car
on a hydraulic lift. Bewildered, he looks about, then asks
a mechanic passing by, his voice raised over the din of the
shop.
JERRY
Where's Shep?
The mechanic points.
MECHANIC
Talkin' to a cop.
Jerry looks.
JERRY
... Cop?
Marge and Shep face each other at the other end of the floor
in a grimy and cluttered glassed-in cubicle.
MECHANIC
Said she was a policewoman.
Marge and Shep silently talk.
Jerry stares, swallows.
INSIDE THE CUBICLE
MARGE
- Wednesday night?
Shep is shaking his head.
SHEP
Nope.
MARGE
Well, you do reside their at
1425 Fremont Terrace?
SHEP
Yep.
MARGE
Anyone else residing there?
SHEP
Nope.
MARGE
Well, Mr. Proudfoot, this call
came in past three in the morning.
It's just hard for me to believe
you can't remember anyone calling.
Shep says nothing.
MARGE
... Now, I know you've had some
problems, struggling with the
narcotics, some other entanglements,
currently on parole -
SHEP
So?
MARGE
Well, associating with criminals,
if you're the one they talked to,
that right there would be a
violation of your parole and would
end with you back in Stillwater.
SHEP
Uh-huh.
MARGE
Now, I saw some rough stuff on
your priors, but nothing in the
nature of a homicide...
Shep stares at her.
MARGE
... I know you don't want to be
an accessory to something like
that.
SHEP
Nope.
MARGE
So you think you might remember
who those folks were who called
ya?
JERRY'S OFFICE
Jerry is worriedly pacing behind his desk. At a noise he
looks up.
Marge has stuck her head in the door.
MARGE
Mr. Lundegaard?
JERRY
Huh? Yah?
MARGE
I wonder if I could take just a
minute of your time here -
JERRY
What... What is it all about?
MARGE
Huh? Do you mind if I sit down
- I'm carrying quite a load here.
Marge plops into the chair opposite him.
MARGE
... You're the owner here, Mr.
Lundegaard?
JERRY
Naw, I... Executive Sales Manager.
MARGE
Well, you can help me. My name's
Marge Gunderson -
JERRY
My father-in-law, he's the owner.
MARGE
Uh-huh. Well, I'm a police officer
from up Brainerd investigating some
malfeasance and I was just wondering
if you've had any new vehicles stolen
off the lot in the past couple of
weeks - specifically a tan Cutlass
Ciera?
Jerry stares at her, his mouth open.
MARGE
... Mr. Lundegaard?
JERRY
... Brainerd?
MARGE
Yah. Yah. Home a Paul Bunyan and
Babe the Blue Ox.
JERRY
... Babe the Blue Ox?
MARGE
Yah, ya know we've got the big
statue there. So you haven't had
any vehicles go missing, then?
JERRY
No. No, ma'am.
MARGE
Okey-dokey, thanks a bunch. I'll
let you get back to your paperwork,
then.
As Marge rises, Jerry looks blankly down at the papers on
the desk in front of him.
JERRY
... Yah, okay.
He looks up at Marge's retreating back. He looks back down
at the papers. He looks over at the phone.
he picks up the phone and dials four digits.
JERRY
... Yah, gimmee Shep... The
heck d'ya mean?... Well, where'd
he go? It's only... No, I don't
need a mechanic - oh, geez - I
gotta talk to a friend of his, so,
uh ... have him, uh ... oh, geez...
HOTEL BAR
Marge enters. She looks around the bar, a rather
characterless, lowlit meeting place for business people.
VOICE
Marge?
It is a bald, paunching man of about Marge's age, rising
from a booth halfway back. His features are broad,
friendly, Asian-American.
MARGE
Mike!
He approaches somewhat carefully, as if on his second drink.
They hug and head back toward the booth.
MIKE
Geez! You look great!
MARGE
Yah - easy there - you do too!
I'm expecting, ya know.
MIKE
I see that! That's great!
A waitress meets them at the table.
MIKE
... What can I get ya?
MARGE
Just a Diet Coke.
Again she glances about.
MARGE
... This is a nice place.
MIKE
Yah, ya know it's the Radisson,
so it's pretty good.
MARGE
You're livin' in Edina, then?
MIKE
Oh, yah, couple years now. It's
actually Eden Prarie - that school
district. So Chief Gunderson, then!
So ya went and married Norm Son-of-
a-Gunderson!
MARGE
Oh, yah, a long time ago.
MIKE
Great. What brings ya down - are
ya down here on that homicide -
if you're allowed, ya know, to
discuss that?
MARGE
Oh, yah, but there's not a heckuva
lot to discuss. What about you,
Mike? Are you married - you have
kids?
MIKE
Well, yah, I was married. I was
married to - You mind if I sit
over here?
He is sliding out of his side of the booth and easing in
next to Marge.
MIKE
... I was married to Linda
Cooksey -
MARGE
No, I - Mike - wyncha sit over
there, I'd prefer that.
MIKE
Huh? Oh, okay, I'm sorry.
MARGE
No, just so I can see ya, ya know.
Don't have to turn my neck.
MIKE
Oh, sure, I unnerstand, I didn't
mean to -
MARGE
No, no, that's fine.
MIKE
Yah, sorry, so I was married to
Linda Cooksey - ya remember Linda?
She was a year behind us.
MARGE
I think I remember Linda, yah.
She was - yah. So things didn't
work out, huh?
MIKE
And then I, and then I been workin'
for Honeywell for a few years now.
MARGE
Well, they're a good outfit.
MIKE
Yah, if you're an engineer, yah,
you could do a lot worse. Of
course, it's not, uh, it's
nothin' like your achievement.
MARGE
It sounds like you're doin' really
super.
MIKE
Yah, well, I, uh ... it's not that
it didn't work out - Linda passed
away. She, uh...
MARGE
I'm sorry.
MIKE
Yah, I, uh... She had leukemia,
you know...
MARGE
No, I didn't...
MIKE
It was a tough, uh ... it was a
long - She fought real hard,
Marge...
MARGE
I'm sorry, Mike.
MIKE
Oh, ya know, that's, uh - what
can I say?...
He holds up his drink.
MIKE
... Better times, huh?
Marge clinks it.
MARGE
Better times.
MIKE
I was so... I been so ... and
then I saw you on TV, and I
remembered, ya know... I always
liked you...
MARGE
Well, I always liked you, Mike.
MIKE
I always liked ya so much...
MARGE
It's okay, Mike - Should we get
together another time, ya think?
MIKE
No - I'm sorry! It's just - I
been so lonely - then I saw you,
and...
He is weeping.
MIKE
... I'm sorry... I shouldn't a
done this... I thought we'd have
a really terrific time, and now
I've...
MARGE
It's okay...
MIKE
You were such a super lady ...
and then I... I been so lonely...
MARGE
It's okay, Mike...
CARLTON CELEBRITY ROOM
Carl Showalter is sitting at a small table with a tarty-
looking blonde in a low-cut gown. Each holds a drink.
CARL
Just in town on business. Just
in and out. Ha ha! A little of
the old in-and-out!
WOMAN
Wuddya do?
Carl looks around.
CARL
Have ya been to the Celebrity Room
before? With other, uh, clients?
WOMAN
I don't think so. It's nice.
CARL
Yeah, well, it depends on the artist.
You know, Jose Feliciano, ya got no
complaints. Waiter!
The reverse shows a disappearing waiter and the backs of
many, many people sitting at tables between us and the very
distant stage. Jose Feliciano, very small, performs on a
spotlit stool. The acoustics are poor.
Carl grimaces.
CARL
... What is he, deaf?... So,
uh, how long have you been with
the escort service?
WOMAN
I don't know. Few munce.
CARL
Ya find the work interesting, do ya?
WOMAN
... What're you talking about?
A DIRTY BEDROOM
Carl is humping the escort.
We hear the door burst open.
The escort is grabbed and flung out of bed.
CARL
Shep! What the hell are you doing?
I'm banging that girl! Shep! Jesus
Ch -
Shep slaps him hard, forehand, backhand.
SHEP
Fuck out of my house!
He hauls him up -
CARL
Shep! Don't you dare fucking hit
me, man! Don't you -
- punches him and flings him away.
Carl hits a sofa and we see his bare legs disappear as he
flips back over it.
Shep enters frame to circle the sofa and kick at Carl behind
it.
SHEP
Fuck outta here. Put me back in
Stillwater. Little fucking shit.
There is a knock at the door.
VOICE
Hey! Come on in there!
Shep strides to the door, flings it open.
A man in boxer shorts stands in the doorway.
MAN
C'mon, brother, it's late - Unghh!
Shep hits him twice, then grabs both of his ears and starts
banging his head against the wall.
The hooker runs by, clutching her clothes, and Shep kicks
her in the ass as she passes.
He spins and goes back into the apartment.
Carl is hopping desperately into his pants.
CARL
Stay away from me, man! Hey!
Smoke a fuckin' peace pipe, man!
Don't you dare fuckin' - Unghh!
After hitting him several times, Shep yanks Carl's belt out
of his dangling pants and strangles him with it. Carl
gurgles. Shep knees Carl repeatedly, then dumps him onto
the floor and starts whipping him with the buckle end of the
belt.
CHAIN RESTAURANT PHONE BOOTH
Carl listens to the phone ring at the other end. His face
is deeply bruised and cut.
Finally, through the phone...
VOICE
... Yah?
CARL
All right, Jerry, I'm through
fucking around. You got the
fucking money?
JERRY'S KITCHEN
Jerry is at the kitchen phone. Through the door to the
dining room we see Wade picking up an extension.
JERRY
Yah, I got the money, but, uh -
CARL
Don't you fucking but me, Jerry.
I want you with this money on the
Dayton-Radisson parking ramp, top
level, thirty minutes, and we'll
wrap this up.
JERRY
Yah, okay, but, uh -
CARL
You're there in thirty minutes or
I find you, Jerry, and I shoot
you, and I shoot your fucking wife,
and I shoot all your little fucking
children, and I shoot 'em all in the
back of their little fucking heads.
Got it?
JERRY
... Yah, well, you stay away from
Scotty now -
CARL
GOT IT?
JERRY
Okay, real good, then.
The line goes dead.
A door slams offscreen.
EXT. HOUSE
Wade, briefcase in hand, gets into his Cadillac, slams the
door and peels out.
INT. CAR
Wade's jaw works as he glares out at traffic. He mumbles to
himself as he drives.
WADE
Okay ... here's your damn money,
now where's my daughter?...
Goddamn punk ... where's my damn
daughter...
He pulls out a gun, cracks the barrel, peers in.
WADE
... You little punk.
JERRY'S HOUSE
Jerry sits in the foyer, trying to pull on pair of galoshes.
Scotty's voice comes from upstairs:
VOICE
... Dad?
JERRY
It's okay, Scotty.
VOICE
Where're you going?
JERRY
Be back in a minute. If Stan
calls you, just tell him I went
to Embers. Oh, geez -
Thunk! - his first boot goes on.
RADISSON
Marge sits on the bed in her hotel room, shoes off,
massaging her feet. The phone is pressed to her ear, and
through it, we hear ringing.
VOICE
... Hello?
MARGE
Norm?
MILLE LACS LAKE
It is late evening, blowing storm. A leisurely pan across
the bleak gray expanse finds a little hut in the middle of
the frozen lake with a pickup truck parked next to it.
MARGE'S VOICE
They bitin'?
INT. HUT
Norm has a cellular phone to his ear. His feet are
stretched out to an electric heater. The interior is bathed
in soft orange light.
NORM
Yah, okay. How's the hotel?
MARGE
Oh, pretty good. They bitin'?
NORM
Yeah, couple a muskies. No pike
yet. How d'you feel?
MARGE
Oh, fine.
NORM
Not on your feet too much?
MARGE
No, no.
NORM
You shouldn't be on your feet too
much, you got weight you're not
used too. How's the food down
there?
MARGE
Had dinner at a place called the
King's Table. Buffet style. It
was pretty darn good.
NORM
Was it reasonable?
MARGE
Yah, not too bad. So it's nice
up there?
NORM
Yah, it's good. No pike yet, but
it's good.
DAYTON-RADISSON RAMP
The top, open, level. Snow blows. A car sits idling.
Another car pulls onto the roof. It creeps over to the
parked car and stops. It continues to idle as its door
opens and Wade steps out, carrying the briefcase.
The door of the other car bangs open and Carl bounces out.
CARL
Who the fuck are you? Who the
fuck are you?
WADE
I got your goddamn money, you
little punk. Now where's my
daughter?
CARL
I am through fucking around! Drop
that fucking briefcase!
WADE
Where's my daughter?
CARL
Fuck you, man! Where's Jerry? I
gave SIMPLE FUCKING INSTRUCTIONS -
WADE
Where's my damn daughter? No
Jean, no money!
CARL
Drop that fucking money!
WADE
No Jean, no money!
CARL
Is this a fucking joke here?
He pulls out a gun and fires into Wade's gut.
CARL
... Is this a fucking joke?
WADE
Unghh ... oh, geez...
He is on the pavement, clutching at his gut. Snow swirls.
CARL
You fucking imbeciles!
He bends down next to Wade to pick up the briefcase.
WADE
Oh, for Christ ... oh, geez...
Wade brings out his gun and fires at Carl's head, close by.
CARL
Oh!
Carl stumbles and falls back, and then stands up again. His
jaw is gouting blood.
CARL
... Owwmm...
One hand pressed to his jaw, he fires down at Wade several
times. Blood streams through the hand pressed to his jaw.
CARL
... Mmmmmphnck! He fnkem shop me...
He pockets the gun, picks up the briefcase one-handed,
flings it into his car, gets in, peels out.
DOWN RAMP
Carl screams down the ramp. He takes a corner at high speed
and swerves, just missing Jerry in his Olds on his way to
the top.
INT. JERRY'S CAR
Jerry recovers from the near miss and continues up.
JERRY
Oh, geez!
EXIT BOOTH
Carl squeals to a halt at the gate, still pressing his hand
to his bleeding jaw.
CARL
Ophhem ma fuchem gaphe!
ATTENDANT
May I have your ticket, please?
RAMP ROOF
Jerry pulls to a halt next to Wade's idling Cadillac. He
gets out and walks slowly to Wade's body, prostrate in the
swirling snow.
JERRY
Oh! Oh, geez!
He bends down, picks Wade up by the armpits and drags him
over to the back of the Cadillac. He drops Wade's body,
walks to the driver's side of the car, pulls the keys and
walks back to pop the trunk. He wrestles Wade's body into
the trunk, slams it shut and walks back to the scene of the
shooting.
He kicks at the snow with his galoshed feet, trying to hide
the fresh bloodstains.
EXIT BOOTH
Jerry approaches in the Cadillac.
The wooden gate barring the exit has been broken away. The
booth is empty.
Jerry eases toward the street, looking over at the booth as
he passes.
Inside the booth we see the awkwardly angled leg of a
prostrate body.
EXT. JERRY'S HOUSE
The car pulls into the driveway.
FOYER
Jerry enters and sits on the foyer chair to take off his
galoshes.
SCOTT'S VOICE
... Dad?
JERRY
Yah.
SCOTT'S VOICE
Stan Grossman called.
JERRY
Yah, okay.
SCOTT'S VOICE
Twice.
JERRY
Okay.
SCOTT'S VOICE
... Is everything okay?
JERRY
Yah.
Thoonk - the first boot comes off.
SCOTT'S VOICE
Are you calling Stan?
JERRY
Well... I'm goin' ta bed now.
CARL'S CAR
Carl mumbles as he drives, underlit by the dim dash lights,
one hand now holding a piece of rag to his shredded jaw.
CARL
... Fnnkn ashlzh... Fnk...
ROAD
Carl's car roars into frame, violently swirling the snow.
Its red tail lights fishtail away.
FADE OUT
HOLD IN BLACK
HARD CUT TO: BRIGHT - LOOKING THROUGH A WINDSHIELD
It is a starky sunny day. We are cruising down a street of
humble lookalike houses.
We pan right as we draw toward one house in particular. In
its driveway a man in a hooded parka shovels snow. He
notices the approaching car and gives its driver a wave.
The driver is Gary, the Brainderd police officer. He gives
a finger-to-the-head salute and pulls over.
OUTSIDE
Gary slams his door shut and the other man plants his shovel
in the snow.
MAN
How ya doin'?
GARY
Mr. Mohra?
MAN
Yah.
GARY
Officer Olson.
MAN
Yah, right-o.
The two men caucus the driveway without shaking hands and
without standing particularly close. They stand stiffly,
arms down at their sides and breath streaming out of their
parka hoods. Each has an awkward leaning-away posture, head
drawn slightly back and chin tucked in, to keep his face
from protruding into the cold.
MAN
... So, I'm tendin' bar there at
Ecklund && Swedlin's last Tuesday
and this little guy's drinkin'
and he says, 'So where can a guy
find some action - I'm goin' crazy
down there at the lake.' And I
says, 'What kinda action?' and he
says, 'Woman action, what do I
look like,' And I says 'Well,
what do I look like, I don't
arrange that kinda thing,' and he
says, 'I'm goin' crazy out there
at the lake' and I says, 'Well,
this ain't that kinda place.'
GARY
Uh-huh.
MAN
So he says, 'So I get it, so you
think I'm some kinda jerk for
askin',' only he doesn't use the
word jerk.
GARY
I unnerstand.
MAN
And then he calls me a jerk and
says the last guy who thought he
was a jerk was dead now. So I
don't say nothin' and he says, 'What
do ya think about that?' So I
says, 'Well, that don't sound like
too good a deal for him then.'
GARY
Ya got that right.
MAN
And he says, 'Yah, that guy's dead
and I don't mean a old age.' And
then he says, 'Geez, I'm goin'
crazy out there at the lake.'
GARY
White Bear Lake?
MAN
Well, Ecklund && Swedlin's, that's
closer ta Moose Lake, so I made
that assumption.
GARY
Oh sure.
MAN
So, ya know, he's drinkin', so I
don't think a whole great deal of
it, but Mrs. Mohra heard about the
homicides out here and she thought
I should call it in, so I called
it in. End a story.
GARY
What'd this guy look like anyways?
MAN
Oh, he was a little guy, kinda
funny-lookin'.
GARY
Uh-huh - in what way?
MAN
Just a general way.
GARY
Okay, well, thanks a bunch, Mr.
Mohra. You're right, it's probably
nothin', but thanks for callin'
her in.
MAN
Oh sure. They say she's gonna
turn cold tomorrow.
GARY
Yah, got a front movin' in.
MAN
Ya got that right.
CLOSE ON CARL SHOWALTER
In his car, now parked, one hand holding the rag pressed to
his mangled jaw. He is staring down at something in the
front seat next to him.
His other hand holds open the briefcase. It has money
inside - a lot of money.
Carl unfreezes, takes out one of the bank-wrapped wads and
looks at it.
CARL
... Mmmnphh.
He paws through the money in the briefcase to get a feeling
for the amount.
CARL
... Jeshush Shrist... Jeshush
fuchem Shrist!
Excited, he counts out a bundle of bills and tosses it onto
the back seat.
He starts to take the rag away from his chin but the layer
pressed against his face sticks, its loose weave bound to
his skin by clotted blood.
He pulls very gently and winces as blood starts to flow
again.
He carefully tears the rag in half so that only a bit of it
remains adhering to his jaw.
EXT. CAR
It is pulled over to the side of an untraveled road. THe
door opens and Carl emerges with the briefcase.
He slogs through the snow, down a gulley and up the
embankment to a barbed-wire fence. He kneels at one of the
fence posts and frantically digs into the snow with his bare
hands, throws in the briefcase and covers it back up.
He stands and tries to beat the circulation back into his
red, frozen hands.
He looks to the right.
A regular line of identical fence posts stretches away
against unblemished white.
He looks to the left.
A regular line of identical fence posts stretches away
against unblemished white.
He looks at the fence post in front of him.
CARL
Mmmphh...
He looks about the snowy vastness for a marker. Finding
none, he kicks the fence post a couple of times, failing to
scar or tilt it, then hurriedly plants a couple of sicks up
against the post.
He bends down, scoops up a handful of snow, presses it
against his wounded jaw, and lopes back to the idling car.
HOTEL ROOM
Marge has a packed overnight back sitting on the unmade bed.
She is ready to leave, already wearing her parka, but is on
the phone.
MARGE
No, I'm leavin' this mornin', back
up to Brainerd.
VOICE
Well, I'm sorry I won't see ya.
MARGE
Mm. But ya think he's all right?
I saw him last night and he's -
VOICE
What'd he say?
MARGE
Well, it was nothin' specific
he said, it just seemd like it
all hit him really hard, his
wife dyin' -
VOICE
His wife?
MARGE
Linda.
VOICE
No.
MARGE
Linda Cooksey?
VOICE
No. No. No. They weren't -
he, uh, he was bothering Linda
for about, oh, for a good year.
Really pestering her, wouldn't
leave her alone.
MARGE
So ... they didn't...
VOICE
No. No. They never married.
Mike's had psychiatric problems.
MARGE
Oh. Oh, my.
VOICE
Yah, he - he's been struggling.
He's living with his parents now.
MARGE
Oh. Geez.
VOICE
Yah, Linda's fine. You should
call her.
MARGE
Geez. Well - geez. That's a
suprise.
MARGE'S CAR
Marge drives, gazing out at the road.
MARGE AT A DRIVE-THROUGH
She leans out of her open window and yells at the order
panel:
MARGE
Hello?
MARGE AT THE GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE
She sits in the lot, eating a breakfast sandwich.
JERRY LUNDEGAARD'S OFFICE
Jerry is at his desk using a blunt pencil to enter numbers
onto a form. Beneath the form is a piece of carbon paper
and beneath that another form copy, which Jerry periodically
checks. The carbon-copy form shows thick smudgy, illegible
entries.
Jerry hums nervously.
Glass rattles as someone taps at his door.
Jerry looks up and freezes, mouth hanging open, brow knit
with worry.
Marge sticks her head in the door.
MARGE
Mr. Lundegaard? Sorry to bother
you again. Can I come in?
She starts to enter.
JERRY
Yah, no, I'm kinda - I'm kinda
busy -
MARGE
I unnerstand. I'll keep it real
short, then. I'm on my way out
of town, but I was just - Do you
mind if I sit down? I'm carrying
a bit of a load here.
JERRY
No, I -
But she is already sitting into the chair opposite with a
sigh of relieved weight.
MARGE
Yah, it's this vehicle I asked you
about yesterday. I was just
wondering -
JERRY
Yah, like I told ya, we haven't had
any vehicles go missing.
MARGE
Okay, are you sure, cause, I mean,
how do you know? Because, see,
the crime I'm investigating, the
perpetrators were driving a car
with dealer plates. And they
called someone who works here, so
it'd be quite a coincidence if
they weren't, ya know, connected.
JERRY
Yah, I see.
MARGE
So how do you - have you done any
kind of inventory recently?
JERRY
The car's not from our lot, ma'am.
MARGE
but do you know that for sure
without -
JERRY
Well, I would know. I'm the
Executive Sales Manager.
MARGE
Yah, but -
JERRY
We run a pretty tight ship here.
MARGE
I know, but - well, how do you
establish that, sir? Are the
cars, uh, counted daily or what
kind of -
JERRY
Ma'am, I answered your question.
There is a silent beat.
MARGE
... I'm sorry, sir?
JERRY
Ma'am, I answered your question.
I answered the darn - I'm
cooperating here, and I...
MARGE
Sir, you have no call to get
snippy with me. I'm just doin'
my job here.
JERRY
I'm not, uh, I'm not arguin' here.
I'm cooperating... There's no, uh
- we're doin' all we can...
He trails off into silence.
MARGE
Sir, could I talk to Mr. Gustafson?
Jerry stares at her.
MARGE
... Mr. Lundegaard?
Jerry explodes:
JERRY
Well, heck, if you wanna, if you
wanna play games here! I'm
workin' with ya on this thing, but
I...
He is getting angrily off his feet.
JERRY
Okay, I'll do a damned lot count!
MARGE
Sir? Right now?
JERRY
Sure right now! You're darned
tootin'!
He is yanking his parka from a hook behind the opened door
and grabbing a pair of galoshes.
JERRY
... If it's so damned imporant
to ya!
MARGE
I'm sorry, sir, I -
Jerry has the parka slung over one arm and the galoshes
pinched in his hand.
JERRY
Aw, what the Christ!
He stamps out the door.
Marge stares.
After a long moment her stare breaks. She glances idly
around the office.
There is a framed picture facing away from her on the
desktop. She turns it to face her. It is Scotty, holding
an accordion. There is another picture of Jean.
Marge looks at it, looks around, for some reason, at the
ceiling.
She looks at a trophy shelf on the wall behind her.
She fiddles idly with a pencil. She pulls a clipboard
toward her. It holds a form from the General Motors Finance
Corporation.
She looks idly around. Her look abruptly locks.
MARGE
... Oh, for Pete's sake.
Jerry is easing his car around the near corner of the
building.
Marge's voice is flat with dismay:
MARGE
... Oh, for Pete's sake...
She grabs the phone and punches in a number.
MARGE
... For Pete's s- he's fleein' the
interview. He's feelin' the
interview...
Jerry makes a left turn into traffic.
MARGE
... Detective Sibert, please...
POLICE OFFICER
We are looking across a steam table at a man in blue. He
moves slowly to the right, pushing his tray along a
cafeteria line. Behind him, in the depth of the room, is an
eating area of long Formica tables at which sit a mix of
uniformed and civilian-clothed police and staff.
We are listening to an offscreen woman's voice.
WOMAN
Well, so far we're just saying he's
wanted for questioning in connection
with a triple homicide. Nobody at
the dealship there's been much help
guessing where he might go...
The woman is entering frame sliding a tray. Marge enters
behind her, sliding her own. We move laterally with them as
they slowly make their way along the line.
MARGE
Uh-huh.
WOMAN
We called his house; his little
boy said he hadn't been there.
MARGE
And his wife?
WOMAN
She's visiting relatives in Florida.
Now his boss, this guy Gustafson,
he's also disappeared. Nobody at
his office knows where he is.
MARGE
Geez. Looks like this thing goes
higher than we thought. You call
his home?
WOMAN
His wife's in the hospital, has
been for a couple months. The big C.
MARGE
Oh, my.
WOMAN
And this Shep Proudfoot character,
he's a little darling. He's now
wanted for assault and parole
violation. He clobbered a neighbor
of his last night and another
person who could be one of your perps,
and he's at large.
MARGE
Boy, this thing is really ... geez.
WOMAN
Well, they're all out on the wire.
Well, you know...
MARGE
Yah. Well, I just can't thank you
enough, Detective Sibert, this
cooperation has been outstanding.
DETECTIVE SIBERT
Ah, well, we haven't had to run
around like you. When're you due?
MARGE
End a April.
DETECTIVE SIBERT
Any others?
MARGE
This'll be our first. We've been
waiting a long time.
DETECTIVE SIBERT
That's wonderful. Mm-mm. It'll
change your life, a course.
MARGE
Oh, yah, I know that!
DETECTIVE SIBERT
They can really take over, that's
for sure.
MARGE
You have children?
Detective Sibert pulls an accordion of plastic picture
sleeves from her purse to show Marge.
DETECTIVE SIBERT
I thought you'd never ask. The
older one is Janet, she's nine, and
the younger one is Morgan.
MARGE
Oh, now he's adorable.
DETECTIVE SIBERT
He's three now. Course, not in that
picture.
MARGE
Oh, he's adorable.
DETECTIVE SIBERT
Yah, he -
MARGE
Where'd you get him that parka?
They have reached the end of the cafeteria line. With a nod
to the cashier, Detective Sibert indicates hers and Marge's
trays.
DETECTIVE SIBERT
Both of these.
MARGE
Oh, no, I can't let you do that.
DETECTIVE SIBERT
Oh, don't be silly.
MARGE
Well, okay - thank you, Detective.
DETECTIVE SIBERT
Oh, don't be silly.
GAEAR GRIMSRUD
He sits eating a Swanson's TV dinner from a TV tray he has
set up in front of an easy chair.
He watches the old black-and-white TV set whose image - it
might be a game show - is still heavily ghosting and
diffused by snow. The audio crackles with interference.
Despite the impenetrability of its image, it holds
Grimsrud's complete attention.
At the sound of the front door opening, Grimsrud looks up.
Carl enters, his face suppurating and raw.
He reacts to Grimsrud's wordless look with a grotesque
laugh.
CARL
You should she zhe uzher guy!
He glances around.
CARL
... The fuck happen a her?
Jean sits slumped in a straight-backed chair facing the
wall. Her hooded head, resting on her chin, is motionless.
There is blood on the facing wall.
GRIMSRUD
She started shrieking, you know.
CARL
Jezhush.
He shakes his head.
CARL
... Well, I gotta muddy.
He is plunking down eight bank-wrapped bundles on the table.
CARL
... All of it. All eighty gran.
Forty for you...
He makes one pile, pockets the rest.
CARL
... Forty for me. Sho thishuzh
it. Adiosh.
He slaps keys down on the table.
CARL
... You c'n'ave my truck. I'm
takin' a Shiera.
GRIMSRUD
We split that.
Carl looks at him.
CARL
HOW THE FUCK DO WE SHPLITTA FUCKIN'
CAR? Ya dummy! Widda fuckin'
chainshaw?
Grimsrud looks sourly up. There is a beat. Finally:
GRIMSRUD
One of us pays the other for half.
CARL
HOLD ON! NO FUCKIN' WAY! YOU
FUCKIN' NOTISH ISH? I GOT FUCKIN'
SHOT INNA FAISH! I WENT'N GOTTA
FUCKIN' MONEY! I GET SHOT FUCKIN'
PICKIN' IT UP! I BEEN UP FOR
THIRTY-SHIKSH FUCKIN' HOURZH! I'M
TAKIN' THAT FUCKIN' CAR! THAT
FUCKERZH MINE!
Carl waits for an argument, but only gets the steady sour
look.
Carl pulls out a gun.
CARL
... YOU FUCKIN' ASH-HOLE! I
LISHEN A YOUR BULLSHIT FOR A WHOLE
FUCKIN' WEEK!
A beat. Carl returns Grimsrud's stare.
CARL
... Are we shquare?
Grimsrud says nothing.
CARL
... ARE WE SHQUARE?
A beat.
Disgusted, Carl pockets the gun and heads for the door.
CARL
... Fuckin' ash-hole. And if
you shee your friend Shep Proudpfut,
tell him I'm gonna NAIL hizh
fuckin' ash.
OUTSIDE
We are pulling Carl as he walks toward the car. Behind him
we see the cabin door opening. Carl turns, reacting to the
sound.
Grimsrud is bounding out wearing mittens and a red hunter's
cap, but no overcoat. He is holding an ax.
Carl fumbles in his pocket for his gun.
Grimsrud swings overhand, burying the ax in Carl's neck.
MARGE
In her cruiser, on her two-way. Through it we hear Lou's
voice, heavily filtered:
VOICE
His wife. This guy says she was
kidnapped last Wednesday.
MARGE
The day of our homicides.
VOICE
Yah.
Marge is peering to one side as she drives, looking through
the bare trees that border the road on a declivity that runs
down to a large frozen lake.
MARGE
And this guy is...
VOICE
Lundegaard's father-in-law's
accountant.
MARGE
Gustafson's accountant.
VOICE
Yah.
MARGE
But we still haven't found Gustafson.
VOICE
(crackle)
- looking.
MARGE
Sorry - didn't copy.
VOICE
Still missing. We're looking.
MARGE
Copy. And Lundegaard too.
VOICE
Yah. Where are ya, Margie?
We hear, distant but growing louder, harsh engine noise, as
of a chainsaw or lawnmower.
MARGE
Oh, I'm almost back - I'm driving
around Moose Lake.
VOICE
Oh. Gary's loudmouth.
MARGE
Yah, the loudmouth. So the whole
state has it, Lundegaard and
Gustafson?
VOICE
Yah, it's over the wire, it's
everywhere, they'll find 'em.
MARGE
Copy.
VOICE
We've got a -
MARGE
There's the car! There's the car!
We are slowing as we approach a short driveway leading down
to a cabin. Parked in front is the brown Cutlass Ciera.
VOICE
Whose car?
MARGE
My car! My car! Tan Ciera!
VOICE
Don't go in! Wait for back-up!
Marge is straining to look. The power-tool noise is louder
here but still muffled, its source not yet visible.
VOICE
... Chief Gunderson?
MARGE
Copy. Yah, send me back-up!
VOICE
Yes, ma'am. Are we the closest PD?
MARGE
Yah, Menominie only has Chief Perpich
and he takes February off to go to
Boundary Waters.
ROAD EXTERIOR
Marge pulls her prowler over some distance past the cabin.
She gets out, zips up her khaki parka and pulls up its fur-
lined hood.
For a moment, she stands listening to the muffled roar of
the power tool. Then, with one curved arm half pressing
against, half supporting her belly, she takes slow, gingerly
steps down the slope, through the deep snow, through the
trees angling toward the cabin and the source of the
grinding noise.
She slogs from tree to tree, letting each one support her
downhill-leaning weight for a moment before slogging to the
next.
The roar grows louder. Marge stands panting by one tree,
her breath vaporizing out of her snorkel hood. She squints
down toward the cabin's back lot.
A tall man with his back to us, wearing a red plaid quilted
jacket and a hunting cap with earflaps, is laboring over a
large power tool which his body blocks from view.
Marge advances.
The man is forcing downward something which engages the
roaring power tool and makes harsh spluttering noises.
The man is Grimsrud, his nose red and eyes watering from the
cold, hatflaps pulled down over his ears. His breath steams
as he sourly goes about his work, both hands pressing down a
shod foot, as it if were the shaft of a butter churn.
The roar is very loud.
Marge slogs down to the next tree, panting, looking.
Grimsrud forces more of the leg into the machine, which we
can now see sprays small wet chunks out the bottom.
Marge's eyes shift.
A large dark form lies in the snow next to Grimsrud.
Grimsrud works on, eyes watering. With a grunt he bends
down out of frame and then re-enters holding a thick log.
He uses it to force the leg deeper into the machine.
Marge is advancing. She holds a gun extended toward
Grimsrud, who is still turned away.
Grimsrud rubs his nose with the back of his hand.
Marge closes in, grimacing.
Grimsrud's back strains as he puts his weight into the log
that pushes down into the machine.
The dark shape in the snow next to his side is the rest of
Carl Showalter's body.
Marge has drawn to within twenty yards. When she bellows it
sounds hollow and distant, her voice all but eaten up by the
roar of the power tool.
MARGE
Stop! Police! Turn around and
hands up!
Startled, Grimsrud scowls. He turns to face her.
He stares.
Marge bellows again:
MARGE
... Hands up!
Conscious of the noise, she shows with a twist of her
shoulder the armpatch insignia.
MARGE
... Police!
Grimsrud stares.
With a quick twist, he reaches back for the log, hurls it at
Marge and then starts running away.
Marge twists her body sideways, shielding herself.
No need - the heavy log travels perhaps ten yards and lands
in the snow several feet short of her.
Grimsrud pants up the hill - slow going through the deep
snow.
Behind him:
MARGE
... Halt!
She fires in the air.
She lowers the gun and carefully sighs.
MARGE
... Halt!
She fires.
Grimsrud still slogs up the hill - a miss.
Marge sights again.
MARGE
... Halt!
She fires again.
Grimsrud pitches forward. He mutters in Swedish as he
reaches down to clutch at his wounded leg.
Marge walks toward him, gun trained on him as her other hand
reaches under her parka and gropes around her waist.
It comes out with a pair of handcuffs, which she opens with
a snap of the wrist.
MARGE
... All right, buddy. On your
belly and your hands clasped
behind you.
THE CRUISER
Marge drives. Grimsrud sits in the back seat, hands cuffed
behind him.
For a long moment there, he is quiet - only engine hum and
the periodic clomp of wheels on pavement seams - as Marge
grimly shakes her head.
MARGE
... So that was Mrs. Lundegaard
in there?
She glances up in the rear-view mirror.
Grimsrud, cheeks sunk, eyes hollow, looks sourly out at the
road.
Marge shakes her head.
At length:
MARGE
... I guess that was your
accomplice in the wood chipper.
Grimsrud's head bobs with bumps on the road; otherwise he is
motionless, reactionless, scowling and gazing out.
MARGE
... And those three people in
Brainerd.
No response.
Marge, gazing forward, seems to be talking to herself.
MARGE
... And for what? For a little
bit of money.
We hear distant sirens.
MARGE
... There's more to life than money,
you know.
She glances up in the rear-view mirror.
MARGE
... Don't you know that?... And
here ya are, and it's a beautiful
day...
Grimsrud's hollow eyes stare out.
The sirens are getting louder. Marge pulls over.
MARGE
... Well...
She leans forward to the dash to give two short signalling
WHOOPS on her siren.
She turns on her flashers.
She leans back with a creak and jangle of utilities.
She stares forward, shakes her head. We hear the dull click
of her flashers.
MARGE
... I just don't unnerstand it.
Outside it is snowing. The sky, the earth, the road - all
white.
A squad car, gumballs spinning, punches through the white.
It approaches in slow motion.
An ambulance punches through after it.
Another squad car.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
HIGH AND WIDE ON A SHABBY MOTEL
It stands next to a highway on a snowy, windslept plain.
One or two cars dot the parking lot along with an idling
police cruiser.
MOTEL ROOM DOORWAY
We are looking over the shoulders of two uniformed policemen
who stand on either side of the door, their hands resting
lightly on their holstered sidearms. One of them raps at
the door.
COP ONE
Mr. Anderson...
A title fades in: OUTSIDE OF BISMARK, NORTH DAKOTA
After a pause, muffled through the door:
VOICE
... Who?...
COP ONE
Mr. Anderson, is this your burgundy
88 out here?
VOICE
... Just a sec.
COP ONE
Could you open the door, please?
VOICE
... Yah. Yah, just a sec.
We hear a clatter from inside.
VOICE
... Just a sec...
One of the policemen unholsters his gun and nods to someone
whose back enters - a superintendent holding a ring of keys.
This man turns a key in the door and then stands away.
The two policemen, guns at the ready, bang into the motel
room.
The rough hand-held camera rushes in behind them as the two
men give the room a two-handed sweep with their guns.
The room is empty.
Cop one indicates the open bathroom door.
COP ONE
Dale!
The two men charge the bathroom, belts jingling, guns at the
ready, jittery camera behind them rushing to keep pace.
A man in boxer shorts is halfway out the bathroom window.
The policemen holster their guns and charge the window, and
drag Jerry Lundegaard back into the room.
His flesh quivers as he thrashes and keens in short,
piercing screams.
The cops wrestle him to the floor but his palsied thrashing
continues. The policemen struggle to restrain him.
COP ONE
Call an ambulance!
COP TWO
You got him okay?
Cop One pinions Jerry's arms to the floor and Jerry bursts
into uncontrolled sobbing.
COP ONE
Yah, yah, call an ambulance.
Jerry sobs and screams.
A BEDROOM
We are square on Norm, who sits in bed watching television.
After a long beat, Marge enters frame in a nightie and
climbs into bed, with some effort.
MARGE
Oooph!
Norm reaches for her hand as both watch the television.
At length Norm speaks, but keeps his eyes on the TV.
NORM
They announced it.
Marge looks at him.
MARGE
They announced it?
NORM
Yah.
Marge looks at him, waiting for more, but Norm's eyes stay
fixed on the television.
MARGE
... So?
NORM
Three-cent stamp.
MARGE
Your mallard?
NORM
Yah.
MARGE
Norm, that's terrific!
Norm tries to suppress a smile of pleasure.
NORM
It's just the three cent.
MARGE
It's terrific!
NORM
Hautman's blue-winged teal got the
twenty-nine cent. People don't
much use the three-cent.
MARGE
Oh, for Pete's - a course they do!
Every time they raise the darned
postage, people need the little
stamps!
NORM
Yah.
MARGE
When they're stuck with a bunch a
the old ones!
NORM
Yah, I guess.
MARGE
That's terrific.
Her eyes go back to the TV.
MARGE
... I'm so proud a you, Norm.
Norm murmurs:
NORM
I love you, Margie.
MARGE
I love you, Norm.
Both of them are watching the TV as Norm reaches out to rest
a hand on top of her stomach.
NORM
... Two more months.
Marge absently rests her own hand on top of his.
MARGE
Two more months.
Hold; fade out.
