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- Hey, baby, what's going on here? - Oh, hi.
Missy Golightly, I...
Some day... Some day, Missy Golightly...
What happened? You take off for the powder room and that's the last I see you.
- Now really, Harry... - Harry was the other guy.
I'm Sid Arbuck. You like me, remember?
Missy Golightly! I protest!
Oh, darling, I am sorry, but I lost my key.
But that was two weeks ago! You cannot go on and keep ringing my bell.
You disturb me. You must have a key made!
But it won't do any good, I just lose them all.
Come on, baby. You like me, you know you do.
I worship you, but good night, Mr. Arbuck.
What is this? You like me. I'm a liked guy.
You like me, baby. You know you do.
Didn't I pick up the cheque for five of your friends?
When you asked for change for the powder room, I gave you fifty dollar.
Doesn't that give me some rights?
In thirty seconds I go to call the police!
All the time disturbance! I cannot sleep!
I got to get my rest. I'm an artist!
I go to call the vice squad on you!
Don't be angry, dear little man. I won't do it again.
If you promise not to be angry, I might let you take those pictures.
- When? - Sometime.
- Any time. - Good night.
I'm sorry to bother you, but I couldn't get the downstairs door open.
I guess they sent me the upstairs key. I couldn't open the downstairs door.
I said, I guess they sent me the...
...upstairs key. I couldn't get the downstairs door open.
- Sorry to wake you. - That's quite all right.
Could happen to anyone, quite frequently does. Good night.
I hate to...
I hate to bother you, but if I could ask for one more favour?
- Could I use the phone? - Sure.
- Why not? - Thank you.
Well, this is a... nice little place you've got here.
- You just moved in too, huh? - No, I've been here about a year.
The phone's over there.
Well, it was.
Oh, I remember. I stuck it in the suitcase, kind of muffles the sound.
I'm... sorry.
- Is he all right? - Sure. He's okay, aren't you, Cat?
Poor old Cat. Poor slob.
Poor slob without a name. I don't have the right to give him one.
We don't belong to each other, we just took up by the river one day.
I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together.
I'm not sure where that is, but I know what it's like.
- It's like Tiffany's. - You mean the jewellery store?
That's right. I'm crazy about Tiffany's.
Listen... You know those days when you get the mean reds?
- You mean like the blues? - No.
The blues are because you're getting fat or it's raining. You're just sad.
The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know why.
- Do you ever get that feeling? - Sure.
When I get it, the only thing is to jump into a cab and go to Tiffany's.
It calms me down right away.
The quietness and proud look of it. Nothing bad could happen there.
If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then...
...then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name.
I'm sorry, you wanted something. Oh, the telephone.
It's just that I was supposed to meet somebody.
I mean, this is ten o'clock, Thursday morning, isn't it?
I just got off a plane from Rome and I'm not too sure.
- Thursday? Is this Thursday? - I think so.
Thursday? Oh, no it can't be. It's too gruesome!
Well, what's so gruesome about Thursday?
Nothing, except I can never remember when it's coming up.
Wednesdays I generally don't go to bed, because I have to catch the 10.45.
And they are so particular about visiting hours.
Would you be a darling and look under the bed for a pair of alligator shoes?
Sure.
I've got to do something about the way I look.
A girl can't go to Sing Sing with a green face.
Sing Sing?
I always thought it was a ridiculous name for a prison.
Sounds more like an opera house.
Black alligator.
All the visitors try to look their best. It's only fair.
It's very touching, all the women wearing their prettiest things.
And I love the kids too. It should be sad to see kids there, but it isn't.
They all have ribbons in their hair and lots of shine on their shoes.
As I understand it, we're getting you ready to visit somebody at Sing Sing.
That's right. You can tell what a man thinks of you by the earrings he gives you.
- I must say, the mind reels. - May I ask whom?
- Whom what? Who I visit, you mean? - I guess that's what I mean.
I don't know if I should discuss it. But he never told me not to tell anyone.
You must cross your heart and kiss your elbow.
I'll try.
You've probably read about him. His name is Sally Tomato.
Don't look so shocked. They could never prove he was part of the mafia.
But he cheated at his income tax a little.
All I know is that he's a darling old man.
Oh, he was never my lover.
I never knew him before prison. But I adore him now.
I've seen him every Thursday for seven months.
I'd go even if he didn't pay me.
- Shoes. - I could only find one.
- He pays you? - Or anyway his lawyer does.
I doubt he's a lawyer. He only has an answering service.
And he always wants to meet at Hamburger Heaven.
- There you are, you sneak. Thank you. - You're welcome.
Dress, dress... Here we are. Bag. There it is, too.
Seven months ago this so called lawyer, Mr. O'Shaughnessy, asked me...
...how I'd like to cheer up a lonely old man and pick up a hundred a week.
I told him he had the wrong Holly Golightly.
A girl can get that going to the powder room.
Any gentleman will give a girl a fifty dollar bill for the powder room.
And the cab fare is another fifty.
Then he told me his client was Sally Tomato.
Dear old Sally had seen me at Elmer's and admired me à la distance.
Could I go and visit him once a week?
How could I say no? It was all so wildly romantic.
How do I look?
Very good. I must say, I'm amazed.
I could never have done it without you.
- Bag... - Call me anytime.
I'm just upstairs. Or I will be a soon as get moved in.
- Bye, Cat. - Uh...
You mean he gives you a hundred dollars for an hour's conversation?
Mr. O'Shaughnessy does, as soon as I give him the weather report.
It's none of my business, but you could get into trouble.
Hold this for me, will you?
And what do you mean, weather report?
It's just a message to show I've really been up there.
Sally tells me things to say, like "there's a hurricane in Cuba"...
..."it's cloudy over Palermo". Things like that.
Don't worry, I've taken care of myself for a long time.
Taxi!
- I never could do that. - It's easy.
Paul!
I'm late. I know it.
Don't tell me you were locked out. Didn't you get the key? Oh, darling.
I'm so sorry.
No, I got the key. Miss Golightly, my neighbour, was kind enough to let me in.
Miss Golightly's on her way to Sing Sing. Just visiting, of course.
Miss Golightly, Mrs. Falenson, my... decorator.
- How do you do. - How do you do.
Oh, darling, let me look at you.
- Are you through? I'm in a rush? - Was the flight absolutely ghastly?
Grand Central Station, and step on it, darling.
Is it really only three weeks since I left you in Rome? Seems like years.
- Have you seen the apartment? - Not yet.
I know it was wicked of me, but I went ahead and fixed it up without you.
I think it's darling, but if you absolutely hate it...
...we can rip everything out and start from scratch.
Oh, Missy Golightly. All the time.
Hey, baby. Where are you going?
Ah, come on, baby. Open the door.
Ah, be a pal.
You're breaking up a beautiful party.
Come on, baby, open the door.
Hey, the band's swinging.
Ah, come on, baby.
Missy Golightly! Once again I must protest!
If you don't stop that phonograph, I'm gonna call the police department!
Uh, that a more better.
What's the matter, baby?
Ah, come on, you're a great kid. Open the door.
Come on, baby. I'm waiting for you.
- It's all right. It's only me. - Now, wait a minute, Miss...
Golightly. Holly Golightly.
I live downstairs. We met this morning. Remember?
It's all right. She's gone.
I must say, she works late hours for a decorator.
I have the most terrifying man downstairs. He's sweet when he isn't drunk, but...
...let him start lapping up the wino and oh, golly, quel beast.
It finally got so tiresome I just went out the window.
You can throw me out if you want to, but...
...you looked so cosy in here and your decorator friend had gone home.
It was getting cold on the fire escape.
And I heard people in New York never get to know their neighbours.
Well?
- How was Sing Sing? - Fine.
- I made the train and everything. - And what's the weather report?
"Small craft warnings Block Island to Hatteras", whatever that means.
You know, you're sweet. You really are.
And you look a little like my brother Fred.
- Do you mind if I call you Fred? - Not at all.
Three hundred? She's very generous.
- Is that by the week, the hour or what? - Okay, the party's over. Out!
Oh, Fred. Darling Fred, I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Don't be angry.
I was just trying to let you know I understand. I understand completely.
It's okay, stick around. Throw me my robe and I'll make you a drink.
You stay right where you are. You must be absolutely exhausted.
I mean, it is very late and you were sound asleep and everything.
You must think I'm very brazen, or très fou, or something.
- No fouer than anybody else. - Yes, you do. I don't mind.
It's useful being top banana in the shock department.
- What do you do, anyway? - I'm a writer, I guess.
- You guess? Don't you know? - Okay.
Positive statement. Ringing affirmative. I'm a writer.
The only writer I've ever been out with is Benny Shacklett.
He's written a lot of television stuff, but quel rat!
Tell me, are you a real writer?
Does anybody buy what you write or publish it, or anything?
They bought what's in that box.
- Yours? - Uh-huh.
- All these books? - It's just the one book. Twelve copies.
Nine lives by Paul Varjak.
- They're stories. - Um. Nine of them.
Tell me one.
They're not the kind of stories you can tell.
Too dirty?
I suppose they're dirty too, but only incidentally.
Mainly they're "angry, sensitive, intensly felt"...
...and that dirtiest of dirty words, "promising".
Or so said the Times' book review, October 1st, 1956.
- 1956? - That's right.
I suppose this is kind of a ratty question, but what have you written lately?
- Lately I've been working on a novel. - Lately, since 1956?
A novel takes a long time. I want to get it exactly right.
So no more stories?
I'm supposed to not fritter my talent away on little things.
I'm supposed to be saving it for the big one.
- Tell me, do you write every day? - Sure.
- Today? - Sure.
- It's a beautiful typewriter. - Of course.
It only writes sensitive, intensly-felt, promising prose.
But there's no ribbon in it.
- There isn't. - No.
Something you said this morning has been bothering me all day.
What's that?
Do they really give you fifty dollars for the powder room?
Of course.
You must do very well.
I'm trying to save, but I'm not very good at it.
You know, you do look a lot like my brother Fred.
I haven't seen him since I was fourteen. That's when I left home.
And he was already six foot two.
I guess it must have been the peanut butter that did it.
Everybody thought he was dotty the way he gorged himself on peanut butter.
But he wasn't dotty.
Just sweet and vague and terribly slow.
Poor Fred. He's in the army now.
That's the best place for him until I get enough money saved.
- And then? - And then Fred and I...
I went to Mexico once. It's a wonderful place for raising horses.
I saw one place near the sea that...
Fred's very good with horses.
But even land in Mexico costs something.
There never seems to be more than a couple of hundred dollars in the bank.
It can't be 4.30.
It just can't.
Do you mind if I just got in with you for a minute?
It's all right, really it is.
We're friends, that's all.
- We are friends, aren't we? - Sure.
Okay.
Let's not say another word.
Let's just go to sleep.
Where are you, Fred?
Because it's cold.
There's snow in the wind.
Why are you crying?
If we're going to be friends, let's just get one thing straight right now.
I hate snoops.
- Yeah? - Lucille, darling? It's 2E.
I've been trying desperately to reach you. Bill just got back.
A day early, the beast. So I'm afraid I'll have to beg off.
You'll explain to the rest of the girls? You're a darling.
Maybe we can have a long lunch tomorrow.
- I'll phone you in the morning. - Whatever you say.
- You will survive without me tonight? - Sure.
I might even take a wild boyish fling at writing.
- Good night. - Good night.
You got yourself stuffed, Polly baby? Serves you right, big mouth.
- Buon giorno. - Huh?
Aren't you drinking?
You got pockets there or something?
What do you go by? What's your name? What do you call yourself?
- Irving. - Oh, perfect. That's wonderful.
I'll be right back, Irving baby.
Kid's still in the shower. You're expected?
- I was invited. Is that what you mean? - Don't get all tense and sore.
Come on in. Just a lot of characters come around here that are not expected.
- Can I buy you a drink? You drink? - Yeah. Okay.
Hey, honey, your skirt's split there.
- What do you drink, kid? - Bourbon.
- On the rocks? - Yeah. No, with water.
- You want rocks first though? - Yeah.
- Not too much there. - Here, that'll set you free.
- Known the kid long? - Not very. I live upstairs.
You're kidding? Look at this place. It's unbelievable, what a dump.
- What do you think? - About what?
Is she or isn't she? Wait a minute. Hold it now.
- Harriet! - Hi, J.B.
- J.B.? O.J. What is that? - Myrtle.
- You know Gil. - Glad to see you.
- How about a drink? - In the kitchen. Everything you need.
Oh, honey, that is you. That is you!
Fred, darling, I'm so glad you could come.
- I brought you a house present. - Oh, you're sweet.
Doesn't that look nice? Give me a cigarette, O.J.
O.J.'s great agent. He knows a lot of phone numbers.
- What's Jerry Wald's number? - Ah, lay off.
Darling, I want you to call him and tell him what a genius Fred is.
Stop blushing, Fred. You didn't say you're a genius, I did.
Quit stalling, O.J. Tell me how you're going to make Fred rich and famous.
Why don't you let Fred-baby and me settle that matter, puppy?
Just remember, I'm the agent. He's already got a decorator.
Hold it, hold it.
Hi there, boys. In the kitchen, you'll find everything you need.
- So, listen Fred-baby, what do you... - No, it's Paul-baby.
I thought it was Fred-baby. Well, is she or isn't she?
- Is she or isn't she what? - A phony.
- I don't know. I don't think so. - You don't think so? You're wrong.
She is. But on the other hand, you're right. Because she's a real phony.
Because she honestly believes all this phony junk that she believes.
I like the kid. I sincerely like the kid. I'm sensitive, that's why.
You've got to be sensitive to like the kid. It's a touch, a streak of the poet.
- Have you known her long? - I discovered her. I'm O.J. Berman.
A couple of years ago, she was just a kid.
She had a lot of style, a lot of class. Class, she had a lot of class.
But when she opened her mouth you didn't know if she was a hillbilly or an Okie.
You know how long it took me to smooth out that accent?
One year. You know how we did it? We gave her French lessons.
Once she could imitate French, she'd have no trouble imitating English.
Finally I arranged for a little screen test.
The night before the screen test, I could've killed myself.
The phone rings, I pick it up. She says: "This is Holly."
"Holly, you sound so far away." She says: "I'm in New York".
"You've got a screen test tomorrow." "I've never been in New York before."
I say: "Get back here." She says: "I don't want to."
I say: "What do mean, you don't want it?"
"What do you want?" She says: "When I find out, I'll let you know."
- So look, Fred-baby, don't tell me... - It's Paul-baby.
Don't tell me that she isn't a phony.
Irving. Honey, Irving, where have you been?
- How's that? - Great, thanks.
Mike, darling, I tried reaching you, but your answering service doesn't answer.
You know the trouble with answering services.
I saw your mother at El Morocco's the other day.
She looked so wonderful.
Holly!
Do you have the time, darling?
- Do you have a watch? - No, I don't.
- Let me see. It's 6.45. - Thank you so much, dear.
Really, was that necessary?
- Some party. Who are all these people? - Who knows? The word gets out.
You don't mind, do you darling?
Reinforcements.
- Where do I put it? - Right in there.
- There's more right back there. - Hey, look at the booze.
Holly!
Holly, d-d-darling...
- What's that? - Mag Wildwood.
She's a model, believe it or not. And a thumping bore.
But just look at the goodies she brought with her.
He's all right, I suppose, if you like dark, handsome, rich-looking men...
...with passionate natures and too many teeth.
I don't mean that one, I mean the other one.
- The other one? - It's Rusty Trawler.
He happens to be the ninth richest man in America under fifty.
That's a remarkable piece of information to have at your fingertips.
I keep track of these things.
- Excuse, me, you owe me 47... - Hold this, will you, darling?
- Darling, what are you doing here? - I was upstairs working with Yunioshi.
Easter stuff for the Bazaar. Then these two nice boys picked me up.
It was a mistake, my wires got crossed somewhere.
But they were both very sweet about it.
May I present Jose da Silva Perreira? He's from Brazil.
M-Miss G-Golightly.
Very kind of you to allow me to attend your party.
I am so interested in North American culture.
I've been to the Statue of Liberty and to the restaurant Automatic.
But this is the first time I am in a typical North American home.
Wouldn't he just melt in your mouth?
And this is Mr. Rusty Trawler. Miss Golightly.
- You're not vexed at me for bringing them? - Of course not, darling.
I'm glad. Now, who's going to bring me a bourbon?
O.J. Would you get Miss Wildwood a drink?
- Which one's Miss Wildwood? - Mr. Berman.
We haven't been formally introduced.
I'm Mag Wildwood, from Wildwood, Arkansas. That's hill country.
- Make yourself right at home, Senor. - Do not trouble yourself.
I'm contented to stand observing the customs of your country.
Okay, you do that.
Now, come along, Mr. Trawler. Let's see what we can find to amuse you with.
- I wasn't supposed to pick you up. - I said you were to pick me up.
Look, I wasn't supposed to pick you up.
- Yes? - Miss Golightly?
This time I'm warning you!
I am definitely this time going to calling the police!
- Is it something important? - No, just the guy upstairs.
- Complaining about the noise. - He's angry?
Well, he did mention something about calling the police.
The police? Oh, that I cannot have.
I'd better look for Miss Wildwood and go.
A beau of mine mousing after a piece of cheap Hollywood trash.
- Mag, darling, you're being a bore. - Shut up!
You know what's going to happen to you?
I am going to march you over to the zoo and feed you to the yak!
As soon as I finish this drink.
Timber!
Sorry.
- Good evening, Ed. - It's Paul-baby.
- You remember Irving? - Hi, Irving. This is Jose.
Nice to meet you, Jose.
- Wonderful seeing you. - Yes.
Jewel thieves.
Sally helps me with my accounts. I have no head for figures at all.
I'm trying desperately to save money. I told you. I just can't seem to.
He makes me write down everything in there. What I get, what I spend...
I used to have a checking account, but he made me get rid of that.
He feels, for me, it's better to operate on a cash basis, tax-wise.
Some day, Mr. Fred, you take this book, turn into a novel.
Everything is there, just fill in a little the details.
- It would be good for some laughs. - No. No, I don't think so.
This is a book would break the heart.
"Mr. Fitzsimmons, powder room, fifty dollars."
"Less eighteen dollars repair one black satin dress."
"Cat food, 27 cents."
Sally, darling, please stop. You're making me blush.
But you're right about Jack Fitzsimmons, he's an absolute rat.
I guess of course, I don't really know anybody but rats.
Except, of course Fred here.
- You do think Fred is nice, don't you? - For you, I hope he is.
Goodbye, Uncle Sally. Till next week.
- Goodbye, Uncle Sally. - Don't forget to send that book.
- Oh, what about the weather report? - Oh, yes.
Snow flurries expected this weekend in New Orleans.
"Snow flurries expected this weekend in New Orleans." Isn't that the weirdest?
I bet they haven't had snow in New Orleans for a million years.
I don't know how he thinks them up.
I'm crossing you in style
Some day
Old dream maker
You heart breaker
Wherever you're going
I'm going your way
Two drifters
Off to see the world
There's such a lot of world to see
We're after
The same
Rainbow's end
Waiting round the bend
My huckleberry friend
Moon river
And me
- Hi. - Hi.
- What are you doing? - Writing.
Good.
Well, hello.
- What's wrong? - I don't know.
It's probably nothing.
I want to see if he's still there.
See if who's still there? What are you talking about?
Look.
See? I noticed him yesterday afternoon.
I didn't say anything, I didn't want to sound neurotic, but...
- When he's there again today... - Who do you think he is?
It could be anybody, but what crossed my mind was...
...suppose Bill's having us watched?
Okay. I'll take care of this.
No. No, don't, please.
Look, if that's what it is, you'll only make everything worse.
I'll be careful. You wait here.
Darling, please don't. I don't think you should.
Now take it easy. I just want to find out what this is all about.
All right, what do you want?
Son, I need a friend.
That's me, that's her, that's her brother Fred.
You're Holly's father?
Her name ain't Holly.
She was Lulamae Barnes.
Was till she married me. I'm her husband, Doc Golightly.
Paul Varjak.
I'm a horse doctor. Animal man.
Do some farming, too, near Tulip, Texas.
Her brother Fred's getting out of the army soon.
Lulamae belongs home with her husband, her brother and her churren.
Children?
- Them's her churren. - She's got four children?
I didn't claim they was her natural born churren.
Their own precious mother, precious woman...
...passed away July the 4th, 1954. The year of the draught.
When I married Lulamae she was going on fourteen.
You'd think the average person going on fourteen wouldn't know his own mind.
But you take Lulamae, she was an exceptional person.
She just plumb broke our hearts when she run off like she done.
Just plain had no reason.
All housework was done by her daughters.
Lulamae could just take it easy.
That woman got positively fat, while her brother grew into a giant.
Was a sight different from the way they come to us.
A couple of wild younguns, they was.
I caught them outside the house stealing milk and turkey eggs.
They had been living with some mean no-count people east of Tulip.
She had good cause to run off from that house.
Never had none leaving mine.
- Didn't her brother leave too? - No, sir.
We had Fred with us till they took him in the army.
That's what I want to talk to her about. He's getting out of the army in February.
That's why I came to get her.
Lulamae's place is with her husband, her churren and her brother.
It's a prize in the crackerjack. Do you want it?
Never could understand why that woman run off.
Don't tell me she weren't happy.
Talky as a jaybird she was, with something smart to say on every subject.
Better than the radio.
The night I proposed, I cried like a baby.
She said: "What do you cry for, Doc? Course we'll get married.
I've never been married before."
I had to laugh and hug and squeeze her.
"Never been married before."
Listen, son, I advised you I need a friend...
...because I don't want to surprise her or scare her none.
Be my friend, let her know I'm here.
Will you do that for me, son?
Yeah. Sure, Doc. If that's what you want.
Come on.
Coming!
Darling, I'm on my way out. I'm supposed to be at Twenty-One half an hour ago.
Maybe we can have a drink tomorrow.
Sure, Lulamae. If you're still here tomorrow.
Oh, please, where is he?
Fred?
Gosh, Lulamae.
Gee, honey, don't they feed you up here? You're so skinny.
- Hi, Doc. - Gosh, Lulamae. Kingdom come.
- What's the matter? Are you all right? - I guess so.
- No, I'm not. Fred, will you help me? - If I can.
I want you to come to the bus station with us.
He still thinks I'm going back with him. I can't play this scene alone.
- What can I do? He's your husband. - No, he's not.
- He's not? - It was annulled ages ago.
Please, Fred. I'll tell him you're coming to see us off.
Don't say anything.
Just meet us out front in about an hour. Please.
You wait right here, honey. I'll get the bag.
- Why don't I get some magazines? - Please, Fred. Don't leave me.
Attention, please. Leaving from platform five, through coach to Dallas...
... Philadelphia, Columbus, Indianapolis, Terre Haute, St. Louis...
Come on, Lulamae, that's us.
Doc, I'm not coming with you.
Let's walk together quietly and I'll try and help you understand.
Help me talk to him, Fred.
I appreciate you want to help, but this it's between Lulamae and me.
Sure, Doc.
- I love you, Lulamae. - I know you do, that's just the trouble.
It's a mistake you always made, trying to love a wild thing.
You were always lugging home wild things.
Once it was a hawk with a broken wing.
Another time it was a full-grown wildcat with a broken leg.
- Remember? - Lulamae, there's something...
You mustn't give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do the stronger they get.
Until it's strong enough to run into the woods or fly into a tree.
And then to a higher tree and to the sky.
Lulamae, there's something I gotta tell you.
A couple of weeks ago I got a letter from young Fred.
- He's all right, isn't he? - Yeah, he's fine, I guess.
He's getting out of the army in February.
In February? That's only four months.
So, you see, your place is with me and your churren and your brother.
Doc, you gotta understand, I can't come back.
And you gotta understand what I'm trying to tell you.
I don't want to pressure you, but now I gotta.
If you don't come back I have to write to Fred and tell him...
...he better sign up for another hitch.
Don't you do that! Don't you write to him.
I want him here with me. I'll take care of him, don't you worry.
- You're talking crazy, Lulamae. - Stop, I'm not Lulamae anymore!
All right, Lulamae.
I guess you know what you're doing.
Keep an eye on her, will you, son?
At least see she eats something once in a while?
Sure, Doc.
She's so skinny.
Please, Doc, please understand.
I love you, but I'm just not Lulamae anymore.
I'm not.
You know the terrible thing, Fred darling? I am still Lulamae.
Fourteen years old, stealing turkey eggs and running through a briar patch.
Except now I call it having the mean reds.
Well, it's still too early to go to Tiffany's.
I guess the next best thing is a drink.
Yes, I very much need a drink.
- Will you buy me one, Fred darling? - Sure.
Only promise me one thing, don't take me home until I'm drunk.
Until I'm very drunk indeed.
Do you think she's talented? Deeply and importantly talented?
No. Amusingly and superficially talented, yes, but...
...deeply and importantly, no.
Gracious!
Do you think she's handsomely paid?
Oh, indeed.
Let me tell you something, Mister.
If I had her money, I'd be richer than she is.
- How do you figure that? - Because I'd keep the candy store.
Old Sally Tomato, that's my candy store.
I'd always keep Sally and that's why I'd be richer than she is.
We'd better get a little more air.
Tom, Dick and Harry...
No, correction, every Tom, Dick and Sid.
Harry was his friend.
Every Tom, Dick and Sid sinks... thinks that if he takes a girl to dinner...
...she'll curl up like a kitten in a little furry ball at his feet.
I have by actual count been taken to dinner...
...by twenty-six different rats in the last two months.
Twenty-seven, if you count Benny Shacklett, who's a super-rat.
- I think I forgot my key. - Never mind, I just buzzed Yunioshi.
Do you want to know something funny?
In spite of the fact that most of these rats...
...fork up fifty dollars for the powder room like little dolls...
...I have, again by actual count, nine dollars less in the old bank account...
...than I had six months ago.
So, my darling Fred, I have tonight made a very serious decision.
And what is that?
- No longer will I play the field. - Congratulations.
The field stinks, both economically and socially.
And I am giving it up.
Miss Golightly! This time I not only call the police...
...but the Fire Department and the New York State Housing Commision.
And if necessary the Board of Health!
Quiet up there! You want to wake the whole house?
As Miss Golightly was saying, before she was so rudely interrupted...
...Miss Golightly announces her intention...
...to devote her not inconsiderable talents...
...to the immediate capture, for the purpose of matrimony...
...of Mr. Rutherford.
"Rusty" to his friends, of whom I'm sure he has many, Trawler.
- Who? - Rusty Trawler.
You met him at my party a couple of weeks ago.
He came with Mag Wildwood.
Not the beautiful Latin type, the other one.
The one that looks like a pig. Remember?
The ninth richest man in America under fifty?
Do I detect a look of disapproval in your eye?
Tough beans, buddy, because that's the way it's going to be.
- Hi, Cat. - Holly, you're drunk.
True. Absolutely true. True, but irrelevant.
What are you doing?
So I think we should have a drink to the new Mrs. Rusty Trawler. Me.
Hey, take it easy.
What's the matter? Don't you think I can do it?
Tell me. Seriously, I'm interested. Don't you think I can?
You heard the Doc.
My brother gets out of the army and Doc won't take him back.
So it's all up to me. I don't know why you don't understand.
I need money and I'll do whatever I have to do to get it.
So, this time next month I'll be the new Mrs. Rusty Trawler.
And I think we should have a little drink to that.
It's all gone, Isn't that too bad?
Got any whiskey upstairs?
- But you've had enough. - Go ahead, get the whiskey.
I'll pay you for it.
- Holly, please. - No, you disapprove of me.
And I do not accept drinks from gentlemen who disapprove of me.
I can pay for my own whiskey and don't you forget it.
I do not accept drinks from disapproving gentlemen.
Especially not disapproving gentlemen who are kept by other ladies.
So take it.
You should be used to taking money from ladies by now.
If I were you I'd be more careful with my money.
Rusty Trawler is too hard a way of earning it.
It should take you exactly four seconds to cross from here to that door.
I'll give you two.
Hi. I came up to talk to you about the other night.
Then I saw the paper and...
Well, actually, I'm kind of embarrassed about it.
But since it concerns you, I thought I ought to talk to you about it in person.
- What? - What?
Oh, the earplugs. Well, I can't go through the whole thing again.
Sufficient to say, I've come to make up.
And, as an added inducement, I have all kinds of news. Can I come in?
I guess so. Just a minute, do I have a nightgown on?
No, I don't. Would you mind turning around for a second?
Never mind, it's such a corny line anyway.
I'll turn around myself. Come in.
Have you seen the paper?
Rusty, you mean? Yes, I know all about it.
I certainly had him pegged wrong, didn't I?
I thought he was just a rat. But he was a super-rat all along.
A super-rat in rat's clothing.
You don't even know the best part.
Not only was he rat, or a super-rat rather, he was also broke,
Broke? I mean, but not a farthing.
His family has money of course, but he personally is broke.
Turns out he owes seven hundred thousand dollars.
Can you imagine anyone owing seven hundred thousand dollars?
Forty-three dollars, yes.
Anyway, that's why he decided to marry the Queen of the Pig People.
I'll tell you one thing, Fred darling.
I'd marry you for your money in a minute.
- Would you marry me for my money? - In a minute.
So I guess it's pretty lucky neither of us is rich.
Yeah.
Oh, Fred darling, I'm so glad to see you.
- What have you been doing? - Writing mostly.
I sold a story. Just got word this morning.
Oh, that's marvellous. It really is.
But... only, how does your decorator friend feel about it?
I thought you were supposed to be saving yourself.
You know something? I haven't quite got around to telling her yet.
Why don't we go out for a drink or a walk to celebrate?
All right. I think there's some champagne in the ice box.
Why don't you open it while I get dressed?
I don't think I've ever drunk champagne before breakfast before.
With breakfast on several occasions, but never before before.
I've got a wonderful idea.
We can spend the whole day doing things we've never done before.
First something you've never done, then me.
Of course I can't think of anything I've never done.
I've never been for a walk in the morning, not since I've been in New York.
I've walked up Fifth Avenue at six, but that's still night.
- Do you think it counts? - Sure it counts. Now we're even.
- Don't you just love it? - Love what?
Tiffany's.
Isn't it wonderful?
Do you see that nothing bad could happen here?
It isn't that I give a hoot about jewellery, except diamonds of course.
Like that.
- What do you think? - Well...
Personally I think it'd be tacky to wear diamonds before I'm forty.
You're right. But in the meantime you hould have something.
- I'll wait. - No, I'm going to buy you a present.
Your typewriter ribbon brought me luck.
- But Tiffany's can be expensive. - I've got my cheque and ten dollars.
I wouldn't let you cash your cheque.
But a present for ten dollars or under, that I'll accept.
I don't know exactly what we'll find at Tiffany's for ten dollars.
- May I help you? - Perhaps.
We're looking for a present for the lady.
Is there something special you had in mind?
Well, we had considered diamonds.
I don't want to offend you, but the lady feels diamonds are tacky for her.
I think they're divine on older women, but I don't think they'd be right for me.
I all fairness, I think I ought to explain, there is also a secondary problem.
One of finance. We can only afford to spend a limited amount.
- May I ask how limited? - Ten dollars.
- Ten dollars... - That was the outside figure, yes.
- I see. - Do you have anything for ten dollars?
Within that price range the variety of merchandise is rather limited.
However, I do think we might have, let me see...
Strictly as a novelty, for the lady and gentleman who has everything.
A sterling silver telephone dialer, at 6.75 including tax.
- A sterling silver telephone dialer. - Yes, sir.
At 6.75, including federal tax.
Well, the price is right, but... l'd rather hoped for something slightly more...
...how shall I say it... romantic in feeling. What do you think?
As sterling silver telephone dialers go it's handsome, but you do understand?
Well, we tried, but I guess...
- Could we have something engraved? - Yes, I suppose so.
The only problem is, you would more or less have to buy something first...
...if only in order to have some object upon which to place the engraving.
Well, we could have this engraved. I think it would be very smart.
This, I take it, was not purchased at Tiffany's?
No. Actually, it was purchased concurrent with...
Well, actually, it came inside of a box of crackerjack.
I see.
Do they still really have prices in crackerjack boxes?
- Oh, yes. - That's nice to know.
It gives one a feeling of solidarity, almost of continuity with the past.
Do you think Tiffany's would really engrave it for us?
It wouldn't be beneath them, or anything?
Well, it is rather unusual, madam.
But I think you will find that Tiffany's is very understanding.
If you tell me the initials, we could have something ready in the morning.
Didn't I tell you this was a lovely place?
What is this place anyway?
You wanted to sit down. It's the Public Library.
- You've never been here? - No. That makes two for me.
- I don't see any books. - They're in there.
See?
Each one of these drawers is stuffed with little cards.
- Each little card is a book or an author. - I think that's fascinating.
- V-a-r-j-a-k. - Really?
Look. Isn't it marvellous?
There you are, right in the Public Library.
"Varjak, Paul, Nine lives" and then a lot of numbers.
- Do they really have the book? Live? - Sure. Follow me.
Number 57. That's us.
Fifty-seven, please. "Nine lives" by Varjak, Paul.
- Have you read it? It's marvellous. - No, I'm afraid I haven't.
Well, you should. He wrote it. He's Varjak Paul in person.
She doesn't believe me.
Show her your driver's licence or Diner's Club card, or something.
He is the author. Cross my heart and kiss my elbow.
- Would you kindly lower your voice? - Why don't you autograph it?
Wouldn't that be nice? Make it more personal.
Really, miss...
Go ahead, don't be so stuck up. Autograph it to them.
- All right. What should I say? - Something sentimental I think.
What are you doing? You're defacing public property.
All right, if that's the way you feel.
Come on, Fred darling, let's get out of here.
I don't think this place is half as nice as Tiffany's.
Did you ever steal anything from a Five and Ten when you were a kid?
No. I'm the sensitive bookish type. Did you?
I used to. I still do every now and then, sort of to keep my hand in.
Come on, don't be chicken. Anyway, you've never done it and it's your turn.
I can't see.
Hi, Cat. Lady of the house at home?
Holly?
Trick or treat?
You're crazy. You know that, don't you? But I love you anyway.
- 2E... - Yes?
- I've got to talk to you. - All right.
You want a drink?
If this is going to be a serious discussion and I'm afraid it is...
...you're going to have to take off that ridiculous mask.
Or else I'm going to have to wear one too.
2E, look, please...
What's the matter? Girl trouble?
Is that it, darling?
Oh, I see.
Well, that's not so serious.
As a matter of fact, I've been expecting it.
I can't say I like it, but I've been expecting it.
- Who is she? - It has nothing to do with her.
- This is between you and me. - Oh, then it is serious.
- Well, now... - 2E, you're a very stylish girl.
Can't we end this stylishly?
- End it? - Yes.
I do believe love has found Andy Hardy.
Let's see... A waitress? A salesgirl?
No, she'd have to be someone rich, wouldn't she, Paul?
- Someone who could help you. - Curiously enough...
She's a girl who can't help anyone, not even herself.
The thing is, I can help her, and it's a nice feeling for a change.
All right, I understand.
I'll tell you what, Paul. I am a very stylish girl.
- What are you doing? - Writing a cheque.
Don't look so bewildered. Surely you've noticed me writing cheques before.
Pay to the order of Paul Varjak one thousand dollars.
Take her away somewhere for a week.
You're entitled to a vacation with pay. It's simply fair labour practice.
If you were really smart you'd get the other boys and organise a union.
That way you'd get all the fringe benefits.
Hospitalisation, a pension plan and unemployment insurance when you're...
How shall I put it? Between engagements?
Thanks for making it easier for me.
Don't be ridiculous, darling. Take the cheque and call your girl.
No, thanks. I've got a cheque of my own.
When you get yourself a new writer to help, try and find one my size.
That way you won't have to even shorten the sleeves.
Holly! Holly!
Holly!
- Hey! - What are you doing?
Oh, excuse me. Uh, I'm sorry.
- You look just like a girl I know. - Really.
I'm sorry.
Hi.
What do you want?
I want to talk to you.
I'm busy.
- What are you doing? - Reading.
"South America, land of wealth and promise."
It's very interesting.
Let's get out of here.
I said, let's get out of here. I want to talk to you.
What's the matter with you anyway? What's happened?
Fred, will you please just leave me alone?
Holly. I love you.
- Where are you going? - To the Ladies Room.
- What's the matter with you anyway? - Let me go. Fred, please, let me go.
Let's get something straight. I am not, nor have I ever been Fred.
Nor am I Benny Shacklett. My name is Paul Varjak and I love you.
- Let me go. - What's this jazz about South America?
If I'm marrying a South American I need to know about the country.
- Marry what South American? - Jose.
- Who the hell is Jose? - Jose da Silva Perreira.
- Who the hell is that? - You met him. Mag Wildwood's friend.
The tall good-looking one who came to the party with Rusty.
You won't believe this, but not only is he handsome and wildely rich.
- He's absolutely cuckoo for me. - You're crazy.
- Do you think you own me? - That's exactly what I think.
That's what everybody always thinks, but everybody is wrong.
Look, I am not everybody.
Or am I?
Is that what you really think?
That I'm no different from all your other rats and super-rats?
Wait a minute.
If that's it...
If that's what you really think.
There's something I want to give you.
- What's that? - Fifty dollars for the powder room.
I wouldn't ask you in, but I can't face the mess alone.
- Oh, you have a message. - No.
Olé!
Good evening, Mr. Yunioshi.
- Oh, good evening, Paul. - Good evening.
Good evening.
Please, you must help me.
Holly! Holly!
Let me go. No.
Oh, Fred! Fred!
No! No!
- What did you do to her? - Nothing.
There was a telegram and then this.
Crashing everything, conducting like a crazy.
I can't have a public scandal, it's too delicate.
My name, my position, my family... Will there be the police again?
I don't see why. There's no law against busting up your own apartment.
- Where is the telegram? - There it is.
"Recieved notice young Fred killed"...
..."in jeep accident, Fort Riley, Kansas."
"Your husband and children join in the sorrow of our mutual loss."
"Letter following. Love Doc."
- Her brother Fred. - Oh.
- Was she very close to him? - Yeah.
- What can one do? - Try to help her.
I tried. It didn't do much good.
- You've got a ranch in Brazil? - Yes.
That's good, she'll like that.
Well, you'd better get in there.
- Hi. - Hello.
- I got your wire. How did you find me? - Oh, I tried everything.
Asked around and suddenly thought of the phone book.
Anyway, I'm glad you could come.
- You look fine. - You think so?
I'm fat as a pig and haven't had my hair done in months, but I'm happy.
Probably shows. You look très distingue yourself.
- I've been writing a little. - I've read three of your stories.
Two in the New Yorker and one in that funny little magazine.
- Won't you sit down? - Thank you.
- I've taken up knitting. - So I see.
It'll probably look very nice, once it's finished.
Actually I'm a little nervous about it.
Jose brought the blueprints for his new ranch.
I think the blueprint and my knitting instruction got switched.
It isn't impossible that I'm knitting a ranch house.
Really, darling, I can't tell you how divinely happy I am.
- What is that anyhow? - Portugese. A very complicated language.
Four thousand irregular verbs.
Eu achoque voce esta gostando do acougreiro.
- Impressive, What does it mean? - I believe you're in league with the butcher.
Holly, what's this about?
Why did you want to see me?
Jose is in Washington, so I thought if I asked you over you might come.
And I've said goodbye to everyone else I care about.
- You're going somewhere? - I'm going to Rio tomorrow.
I've even said goodbye to old Sally.
- Jose's flying down with you? - We're going on separate planes.
It wouldn't look right to travel together.
His family's very important, so he has to worry about that.
I thought I'd show off and cook dinner for us. I'll be fun eating in.
- Did I tell you how divinely happy I am? - Yes.
You are getting married then?
Well, he hasn't really asked me. Not in so many words.
- Four, you mean? - Huh?
Well, that's how many words it takes.
Will You Marry Me?
Oh, we'll get married. I know we will.
In church and with his family there and everything.
That's why he's waiting till we get to Rio, probably.
Do you think it's trying to tell us something?
I hope you like chicken and saffron rice served with chocolate sauce.
It's an East Indian classic. Three months ago I couldn't scramble eggs.
Oh, golly, darling. I did so want to impress you.
I'm not much for chicken with sauce anyway.
Why don't we go out? Let me buy you a farewell dinner.
Oh, that'll be fun, as long as I can go like this.
Years from now, years and years, I'll be back.
Me and my nine Brazilian brats.
They'll be dark like Jose, of course.
But they'll have bright green beautiful eyes.
I'll bring them back, all right, because they must see this.
- Oh, I love New York. - Then why are you leaving?
What's in it for you anyway?
I know what you're thinking and I don't blame you.
I've always thrown out such a jazzy line.
But except for Doc and yourself, Jose's my first non-rat romance.
Not that he's my idea of the absolute finito.
He's too prim and cautious to be my absolute ideal.
If I could choose from anybody alive I wouldn't pick Jose.
Nehru, maybe, or Albert Schweitzer.
Or Leonard Bernstein.
But I'm mad about Jose. I honestly think I'd give up smoking if he asked me.
Come on, darling, let's eat. It's getting late.
I'm leaving tomorrow and I haven't even begun to pack.
I didn't want Jose to think I was the kind of girl who loses her key.
So I had tweny-six of them made.
No, wait, I've got a better idea. A kind of farewell gesture.
- Somebody must've tripped the lock. - Crafty devil, that Yunioshi.
- Wake up, the British are coming! - Or in this case the Brazilians.
Ooh, I've still got to clean up all that rice.
Hey, you know... Hey!
Ah, there she are, Lieutenant! The wanted woman! There!
- Kronberger, Narcotics Squad. - What do you mean?
- What's going on? - Why don't you ask your boss?
- What boss? - Sally Tomato.
They smoke more than tomato. Look around for narcotics.
They got plenty narcotics...
- What's your name? - Varjak.
- Hold it down over there! - Paul Varjak. V-a-r-j-a-k.
- Now get lost, will you? - Get out!
I'm a writer. W-r-i-t-e-r.
One at a time. I can't answer all your questions. Please.
Quiet. Quiet, please. Good.
- Wait a minute. Wait a minute! - I can't answer all your questions.
Knock it off!
Now, darling, why don't you start?
Did you carry messages from Tomato in code?
Of course not. I just give Mr. O'Shaughnessy the weather report.
Simply do not ask me what this is all about, parce-queje ne sais pas.
- But you did used to visit Tomato? - Every week. So what?
- He was part of the narcotics syndicate. - He never mentioned narcotics to me.
Makes me furious the way he's percecuted.
He's a deeply sensitive person. A darling old man.
- Then you're innocent? - Of course.
- What are you going to do? - Who's your lawyer?
I don't know. Mr. O'Shaughnessy, I guess.
Mr. O'Shaughnessy!
- Get out of here! - All right, come on.
Mr. O'Shaughnessy?
- Oh, shut up! - Get in there!
- Yeah? - Mr. Paul Varjak?
Ready with Mr. Berman in Hollywood.
Kindly deposit three dollars for the first three minutes, please.
Hello? Hello!
O.J. Berman here. Who's calling?
- Mr. Berman, this is Paul Varjak. - Nice to talk to you, kid.
Varjak. V-a-r-j-a-k.
I'm a friend of Holly's. I met you at a party in New York.
- Who? - Paul. Paul Varjak.
V-a-r...
- Mr. Berman, this is Fred. - Oh, Fred-baby.
So you're calling about the kid?
Everything's under control, now you just relax.
I spoke to my lawyer in New York.
He'll take care of everything, send me the bill and keep my name anomonous.
- What? - Unknown. I don't want any part of it.
- You hear me? - You sound like you're in a tunnel.
- That's this executive phone. - What?
Executive phone.
Fred-baby, they only got her on ten thousand bail.
My lawyer can get her out this morning. I'll tell you what you do.
You bust in to that dump she lives in, collect all the junk.
Go down to jail, get her out, take her to a hotel under a phony name, right?
We want to keep her away from reporters. Will you do that?
Sure, Mr. Berman. I can't tell you how much I appreciate...
Forget it.
I owe her something.
Not that I owe her anything, if you want to get right down to it, but...
She's a crazy.
She's a phony.
But she's a real phony.
- You know what I mean, kid? - Yeah, I know what you mean.
- Thanks, Mr. Berman. Thanks a lot. - Right.
Why don't you behave?
Quel night!
I did a little house-breaking while you were away.
Clayton Hotel, driver. Eighty-fourth and Madison.
O.J. Thinks you should stay out of sight.
I've got most of your stuff here, including Cat.
Hope he's all right. Yeah.
Hello, Cat. You poor no-name slob.
- Did you find that plane ticket? - Right here. We can cash it in.
- Are you kidding? What time is it? - A little after ten.
- Good. Idlewild Airport, please, driver. - Never mind.
- You can't do that. - Why not?
You're under indictment. If you jump bail they'll lock you up.
The day after tomorrow I'll be married to the future president of Brazil.
That'll give me diplomatic immunity or something.
- I wouldn't bet on it. - What is it, darling?
- I have a message for you. - Oh...
Oh, yes, I see.
Did he bring it in person or was it just there, shoved under the door?
A cousin.
Hand me my purse, will you, darling?
A girl can't read that sort of thing without her lipstick.
You read it to me, will you, darling? I don't think I can quite bear.
You sure you want me to?
Okay.
"My dearest little girl.
I have loved you, knowing you were not as others.
But conceive of my despair upon discovering in such a public style...
...how very different you are from the manner of woman...
...a man in my position could hope to make his wife.
I grieve for the disgrace of your present circumstances...
...and I do not find it in my heart to add my condemn...
...to the condemn that surrounds you.
So I hope you will find it in your heart not to condemn me.
I have my family to protect and my name and...
...I am a coward where these institutions enter.
Forget me, beautiful child, and may God be with you. Jose."
Well?
Well, at least he is honest.
- Kind of touching. - Touching? That square-ball jazz.
- He says he's a coward. - So he's not a rat or a super-rat.
He's just a scared little mouse, that's all.
But oh, golly, gee, damn...
So much for South America.
I didn't think you were cut out to be Queen of the Pampas anyway.
- Clayton Hotel. - Idlewild.
What?
- Plane leaves at twelve and on it I'll be. - Holly, you can't.
Et pourquoi pas? I'm not hotfooting it after Jose, if that's what you think.
As far as I'm concerned he's the future president of nowhere.
Why should I waste a perfectly good plane ticket? I've never been to Brazil.
Please, darling, don't sit there looking at me like that.
I'm going and that's all there is to it.
All they want from me is to be a state's witness against Sally.
Nobody has any intention of prosecuting me.
To begin with they don't have a ghost of a chance.
Even so, this town is finished for me. At least for a while.
Certain shades of limelight can wreck a girl's complexion.
They'll have the rope up at every saloon in town.
I tell you what you do for me. Ring up the New York Times.
I want you to mail me a list of the fifty richest men in Brazil.
The fifty richest!
- Holly, I'm not going to let you do this. - You're not going to let me?
- Holly, I'm in love with you. - So what?
So what? So plenty.
- I love you. You belong to me. - No. People don't belong to people.
- Of course they do. - Nobody will put me in a cage.
I don't want to put you in a cage. I want to love you.
- It's the same thing. - No, it's not. Holly...
I'm not Holly. I'm not Lulamae either. I don't know who I am.
I'm like Cat. We're a couple of no-name slobs. We belong to nobody.
We don't even belong to each other.
Stop the cab.
What do you think? This ought to be the right place for a tough guy like you.
Garbage cans, rats galore... Scram!
I said take off! Beat it!
Let's go.
Driver.
Pull over here.
You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are?
You're chicken. You've got no guts.
You're afraid to stick out your chin and say "okay, life's a fact".
People fall in love and people do belong to each other.
Because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness.
You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing...
...and you're terrified somebody will stick you in a cage.
Well, baby, you're already in that cage, you built it yourself.
And it's not bounded by Tulip, Texas, or Somaliland, it's wherever you go.
No matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.
Here, I've been carrying this around for months.
I don't want it anymore.
Here, Cat!
Cat!
- Where's the cat? - I don't know.
Cat!
Oh, Cat!
Cat! Cat!