OLIVER TWIST (2005)
Author: Charles Dickens
Director: Roman Polanski
Screenplay: Ronald Hanwood
EXT./INT. WORKHOUSE - NIGHT
BUMBLE:
Bow to the board.
This is the boy. Born here in the workhouse.
Moved to the parish farm. Nine years old today.
Time to be moved back here.
LIMBKINS:
What's your name, boy?
OLIVER:
Oliver Twist.
LIMBKINS:
What?
MEMBER #2:
That boy's a fool.
LIMBKINS:
Boy. Listen to me.
You know you are an orphan, I suppose.
OLIVER:
What's that?
MEMBER #2:
The boy is a fool. I thought he was.
LIMBKINS:
You know you've got no father or mother...
and that you were brought up by the parish,
don't you?
OLIVER:
Yes, sir.
MEMBER #2:
What are you crying for?
MEMBER #3:
I hope you say your prayers every night.
Pray for those that feed you and take care of
you... like a Christian.
OLIVER:
Yes, sir.
LIMBKINS:
Well, you have come here to be educated...
and to be taught a useful trade.
INT. WORKROOM - DAY
MASTER:
Here.
Learn from the boy next to you.
OLIVER:
What am I to learn, sir?
MASTER:
Learn to pick out the oakum.
OLIVER:
What's oakum, sir?
MASTER:
Stop asking so many questions. Oakum's the
fibers you unpick from the old rope. Then
it's used again for the ships of Her Majesty's
navy. You're serving your country. Now, get
on with it.
INT. WORKHOUSE - NIGHT
BOY:
Tom, give it a rest, will you?
We're trying to sleep.
TOM:
Can't sleep, too hungry.
BOY #2:
We're all hungry.
TOM:
Yes, but I'm frightened.
BOY:
Frightened? Why?
BOY #3:
Why?
TOM:
Why? I'm so hungry, I'm frightened I might
eat the lad that sleeps next to me.
INT. DINING ROOM - MORNING
MASTER #2:
Oh Lord God, for the blessing of this generous
and bountiful meal that thou hast placed before
us, we give thanks. Amen.
BOYS:
Amen.
(the orphans quickly eat up their portion of gruel)
FLASHBACK. NIGHT
(the orphans draw lots, and it falls on Oliver)
INT. DINING ROOM
OLIVER:
Please, sir. I want some more.
MASTER #2:
What?
OLIVER:
Please, sir, I want some more.
MASTER #2:
(hits Oliver with his stick)
Fetch the beadle!
INI. THE BOARD - DAY
BUMBLE:
Mr. Limbkins. I beg your pardon, sir.
Oliver Twist has asked for more.
LIMBKINS:
For more?!
Compose yourself, Mr. Bumble, and answer me
distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for
more after he had eaten his supper?
BUMBLE:
He did, sir.
MEMBER #2:
That boy will be hanged.
EXT. STREET - DAY
(A chimney sweeper is looking at a notice)
GAMFIELD:
"Five pounds and a boy--"
(to his horse) When I says "whoa," I means
"whoa"!
(cont'd)
"Health-- Healthy... appren-- apprentice.
Five pounds."
INT. COURT - DAY
LIMBKINS:
Chimney sweeping is a nasty trade.
MEMBER #4:
Young boys have been smothered in chimneys
before now.
GAMFIELD:
That's because they damp the straw afore they
light it in the chimney... to make them come
out again. Damp straw makes smoke. Smoke sends
a boy to sleep, and that's what he wants. Boys
is very lazy, gentlemen. But there's nothing
like a good hot blaze to make them come out in
a run. It's humane too. Yes. Because even
if they've stuck in the chimney, roasting
their feet makes them struggle to extricate
theirselves. Yes.
MAGISTRATE:
I suppose he's fond of chimney sweeping?
BUMBLE:
He dotes on it, Your Worship.
MAGISTRATE:
Very well. I will sign the indentures... to
make him Mr.... Mr. Gamfield's apprentice.
(cont'd)
(to Oliver) My boy. My boy, you look pale
and alarmed. What's the matter?
OLIVER:
Please, sir. Please, sir.
MAGISTRATE:
What is it, my boy?
OLIVER:
Don't....
BUMBLE:
Now then.
OLIVER:
Don't.... Don't....
MAGISTRATE #2:
Go on, my boy. Don't what?
OLIVER:
Please don't send me away with this dreadful
man, sir.
BUMBLE:
Of all the designing orphans that I've ever
seen....
MAGISTRATE #2:
BUMBLE:
Hold your tongue, beadle.
MAGISTRATE #2:
Did Your Worship speak to me?
Yes, hold your tongue.
(whispers in the magistrate's ear)
MAGISTRATE:
No. No, out of the question.
We refuse to sanction these indentures.
Take the boy away. And treat him kindly.
He seems to want it.
EXT. WORKHOUSE - DAY
SOWERBERRY:
I've just taken the measure of the two women
that died last night.
(gives a pinch of snuff to Bumble)
BUMBLE:
You'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry.
SOWERBERRY:
Think so?
The prices allowed by the board are very small.
BUMBLE:
So are the coffins.
By the by, you don't know anybody who wants a
boy, do you?
(pointing at the ad)
Liberal terms, Mr. Sowerberry. Liberal terms.
INT. UNDERTAKER'S HOUSE - NIGHT
BUMBLE:
Now, as you are to meet your new master...
pull that cap off your eyes.
Hold your head up, sir.
Dry your eyes, sir.
SOWERBERRY:
Is that you, Bumble?
BUMBLE:
No one else, Mr. Sowerberry.
I've brought the orphan, Oliver Twist.
SOWERBERRY:
So this is the orphan, is it?
Mrs. Sowerberry, will you have the goodness
to come here a moment, my dear?
Oliver Twist... How comes an orphan to have
any name at all?
BUMBLE:
I invented it.
SOWERBERRY:
You, Mr. Bumble?
BUMBLE:
I, Mr. Sowerberry.
I name all our foundlings in alphabetical order.
The last was S. Swubble, I named him.
This was a T. Twist, I named him.
(looking at his note)
Next one as comes will be Unwin... and the next,
Vilkins. I've got names ready all through the
alphabet, right up to Z.
MRS SOWERBERRY: Why, you're quite a literary character, sir.
BUMBLE:
Well, well... perhaps I may be.
SOWERBERRY:
Mrs. Sowerberry, this is the orphan from the
workhouse.
MRS SOWERBERRY: Dear me, he's very small.
BUMBLE:
But he'll grow, Mrs. Sowerberry. He'll grow.
MRS SOWERBERRY: Yes, I daresay he will. On our food and drink.
Workhouse boys always cost more to keep than
they're worth.
(to Oliver)
Get downstairs, you bag of bones.
(cont'd)
CHARLOTTE:
Here, Charlotte, give this boy some of the
cold bits that were put by for the dog.
(puts the plate on the table)
(Oliver eats with both hands)
MRS SOWERBERRY: You don't mind sleeping among the coffins,
I suppose.
Well, it doesn't much matter whether you do
or don't... for you can't sleep anywhere
else.
INT./EXT. UNDERTAKER'S - DAY
NOAH:
Open the door, will you?
You the new boy?
OLIVER:
Yes, sir.
NOAH:
How old are you?
OLIVER:
Ten, sir.
NOAH:
Then I'll whop you one when I get in, you
workhouse brat.
OLIVER:
I beg your pardon, sir. Did you knock?
NOAH:
I kicked.
OLIVER:
Did you want a coffin, sir?
NOAH:
You don't know who I am, I suppose.
OLIVER:
No, sir.
NOAH:
Well, I'm Mr. Noah Claypole. And you're
under me. Now, take down the shutters.
INT. UNDERTAKER'S - DAY
CHARLOTTE:
Saved a nice little bit of bacon for you
from the master's breakfast.
(to Oliver) In the corner with you.
And be quick about it.
They'll want you to mind the shop.
Do you hear?
NOAH:
Do you hear, Workhouse? In the corner.
CHARLOTTE:
Oh, Lord, Noah, let the boy alone.
NOAH:
Let him alone? Why, everybody's let him alone.
His mother, father and all his relations has
let him alone. So he needs someone who don't.
INT. UNDERTAKER'S - NIGHT
MRS SOWERBERRY: Supper.
Oliver, ain't you done yet?
I've never known such an idle boy.
Get down them stairs.
Mr. Sowerberry, supper.
SOWERBERRY:
I've had a thought, my dear.
MRS SOWERBERRY: Had a thought? You want to be careful,
Mr. Sowerberry, you'll get brain fever.
SOWERBERRY:
It's about young Twist.
MRS SOWERBERRY: What about him?
SOWERBERRY:
A very good-looking boy.
MRS SOWERBERRY: He will be. He eats enough.
SOWERBERRY:
There's an expression of melancholy in his
face, my dear. He would make a delightful
mute, my love. I-- I don't mean a regular
mute to attend grown-up funerals, my dear,
but only for children's practice.
EXT. FUNERAL - DAY
NOAH:
Look at him. Look at him.
A workhouse boy and a sneak.
Look at him.
Mark my words, I'll see him hung.
Can't be too soon.
INT. UNDERTAKER'S - NIGHT
NOAH:
Workhouse, how's your mother?
OLIVER:
She's dead.
NOAH:
What'd she die of, Workhouse?
... You gonna cry, Workhouse?
What set you off?
OLIVER:
Not you.
NOAH:
Not me, eh?
OLIVER:
No, not you.
And you better not say anything about my
mother.
NOAH:
Better not? About your mother?
Well, I'm very sorry, and I pity you very much.
But you must know, Workhouse... your mother was
a regular right-down bad one.
OLIVER:
What did you say?
NOAH:
A regular right-down bad one.
It's a good thing she died when she did...
or she'd be hard laboring or transported.
Or hung. Which is most likely, isn't it,
Workhouse?
(Oliver jumps on Noah)
NOAH:
Help, Mrs. Charlotte!
He'll murder me. Help!
Help. Get off!
For God's sake, help me!
CHARLOTTE:
(tries to separate Oliver)
MRS SOWERBWRREY:
NOAH:
MRS SOWERBERRY:
NOAH:
MRS SOWERBERRY:
(enters)
My missus, he's murdering me!
Get off. Get off me now!
Get him, Charlotte.
Get him now. Go out with him.
Come on.
Workhouse devil.
I'll learn you!
You brat!
Get the door, Charlotte.
In with him. In.
(Oliver is confined to the storeroom)
EXT./INT. UNDERTAKER'S - DAY
NOAH:
(to Bumble)
Very violent indeed, sir.
And the missus said... if Mr. Bumble can spare
the time, then Mr. Bumble's to flog him...
because the master's out.
MRS SOWERBERRY:
In there.
BUMBLE:
Oliver?
OLIVER:
Let me out of here!
BUMBLE:
Do you know this here voice, Oliver?
OLIVER:
Yes.
BUMBLE:
Ain't you afraid of it, sir?
Ain't you trembling while I speak, sir?
OLIVER:
No!
MRS SOWERBERRY:
He must be mad.
BUMBLE:
It's not madness, ma'am, it's meat.
MRS SOWERBERRY:
Meat?
BUMBLE:
Meat, ma'am, meat. You've overfed him.
If you'd kept this boy on gruel, this would
never have happened.
MRS SOWERBERRY:
Dear, dear.
This comes of being liberal.
SOWERBERRY:
What's all this?
BUMBLE:
Oliver Twist has turned violent,
Mr. Sowerberry.
NOAH:
Look what he's done to my eye, sir.
OLIVER:
(knocking at the door from within)
Now then. Now then.
SOWERBERRY:
(gets him out)
You're a nice young fellow, ain't you?
OLIVER:
He called my mother names.
MRS SOWERBERRY:
Well, and what if he did, you little
ungrateful wretch!
She deserved what he said and worse.
OLIVER:
She didn't!
MRS SOWERBERRY:
She did!
OLIVER:
It's a lie!
MRS SOWERBERRY:
Do something, Mr. Sowerberry.
He called me a liar.
Do something!!
SOWERBERRY:
(unwillingly whips Oliver)
EXT. NIGHT
(Oliver runs away from the undertaker's house)
EXT. ROAD - DAY
(Oliver keeps on walking day after day)
OLIVER:
(finds a house beside the road)
I beg your pardon, miss... but would you be
so kind...?
MAN:
Get off my land.
I don't want no beggars here.
Go on! Get off! Or I'll put the dog on you!
OLIVER:
(resumes walking towards London, but faints.
An old woman finds him lying on the gravel road,
and takes Oliver home)
WOMAN:
I haven't much, but you're more than welcome
to it. Be careful, it's hot.
(cont'd)
Seeing you gave me such a turn.
My eyes ain't what they were. But... I just
thought for a moment.... Why are you on the
road at all, a little mite like you?
Where are you headed?
OLIVER:
London, ma'am.
WOMAN:
London?
OLIVER:
London.
WOMAN:
Dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.
EXT. LONDON - DAY
(Oliver leans against the front steps of a building)
BOY:
Hello, my man.
And what's your game?
You're not from these parts?
Where you from, then?
OLIVER:
I've been walking. Seven days.
BOY:
Seven days? Cor.
I expect you want grub?
And you shall have it.
I'm at a low-water mark meself just at the
moment... but I'll fork out and stump.
Come on, up with you, on your pins.
(cont'd)
Oh, by the by... my name is Jack Dawkins,
better known as the Artful Dodger.
OLIVER:
Oliver Twist.
Why are you known as the Artful Dodger?
DODGER:
(shows a loaf of bread he has just stolen)
That's why.
Got any lodgings? Money?
I suppose you want someplace to sleep tonight,
don't you?
VENDOR:
Baby newt.
Buy a baby newt, 4 pennies.
DODGER:
I expect you walking for so long was a beak's
order.
OLIVER:
What does that mean?
DODGER:
Don't you know what a beak is?
OLIVER:
A bird's mouth, isn't it?
DODGER:
Cor, you are green.
A beak's a magistrate, my son.
Where you been all your life?
(takes Oliver to his flat in a back alley)
PEOPLE:
Get off me, you!
That's it, you asked for it.
Come back here. I wanna talk to you.
Lucky heather.
from where I am, mate,
I'm telling you.
Go home!
Get off of that!
Go back home!
DODGER:
(knocks at the door)
BOY:
Now then.
DODGER:
Plummy and slam.
BOY:
There's two of you. Who's he?
DODGER:
A new pal.
BOY:
Where'd he come from?
DODGER:
Greenland.
Is the old one there?
BOY:
Upstairs, sorting the wipes.
DODGER:
This is him, Fagin.
My new friend, Oliver Twist.
FAGIN:
Well, well, Oliver Twist.
I hope I have the honor of a more intimate
acquaintance. We're very glad to see you,
Oliver. Very.
(cont'd)
Dodger, take off the sausages... and let's
make a space at the table for Oliver.
You were staring at the pocket handkerchiefs,
eh, my dear? There's a good many of them,
ain't there? We've just looked them out,
ready for the wash. That's all, my dear.
Blow it. Hot. Blow it.
Now then, Oliver, what you must have... is
a hot gin and water. Warms the cockles.
Only, drink it quick because another of
these gentlemen wants the tumbler.
(Oliver drinks it, and then falls)
(cont'd)
He's such a nice lad. I have a feeling
he'll turn out a hard worker. Yeah, a
hard worker.
INT. FAGIN'S FLAT - DAY
FAGIN:
(to Oliver sleeping on the sofa)
Oliver? Oliver?
(takes out the box hidden under the floor
and appreciates the valuables one by one)
Clever dogs. Clever dogs. Fine fellows.
All fine fellows. Fine fellows. Fine
fellows. Fine fellows. Fine fellows.
(Oliver wakes up)
(cont'd)
What do you watch me for?
Why are you awake?
What have you seen?
Speak out, boy!
Quick. Quick, or it's your life!
OLIVER:
I wasn't able to sleep any longer, sir.
I'm very sorry if I disturbed you.
FAGIN:
You were not awake a moment ago?
OLIVER:
No, sir.
FAGIN:
You sure?
OLIVER:
Yes, sir.
FAGIN:
Of course you were asleep, my dear.
I know that. I only tried to frighten you.
You're a brave boy, Oliver.
... Did you see any of those pretty things,
my dear?
OLIVER:
Yes, sir.
FAGIN:
Ah. They.... They're mine, Oliver.
My little property. For my old age.
It's our secret. You understand, my dear?
OLIVER:
Yes, sir.
Can I go up now, sir?
FAGIN:
Now....
INT. FAGIN'S FLAT - DAY
(the boys come home)
FAGIN:
I hope you've been at work this morning,
my dears.
BOYS:
Hard. As nails.
FAGIN:
Good boys. Good boys.
What you got, Dodger?
DODGER:
Couple of pocketbooks.
FAGIN:
Lined?
DODGER:
Pretty well.
FAGIN:
Yeah.
(examining the inside) Dodge.
I don't know, Dodge.
Well... not as heavy as they might be,
but very neat... and nicely made.
Ingenious workman, ain't he, Oliver?
OLIVER:
Indeed, sir.
FAGIN:
And, Charley, what have you got, my dear?
CHARLEY:
Wipes.
FAGIN:
Wipes?
They're very good ones. Very.
... You haven't marked them well.
The marks should be picked out with a needle.
And we'll... we'll teach Oliver how to do it.
Shall us, Oliver?
OLIVER:
lf you please, sir.
FAGIN:
You'd like to make handkerchiefs as easy as
Charley Bates, wouldn't you?
OLIVER:
Very much indeed, if you'll teach me, sir.
CHARLEY:
I've never met anyone so green.
INT. FLAT - NIGHT
FAGIN:
Now then, boys... the game.
We'll show Oliver... how to make pocket
handkerchiefs.
You'd like to play a game, wouldn't you?
OLIVER:
Yes, sir.
CHARLEY:
Got the time, guv?
FAGIN:
It's... 8:00.
(Two women show up)
1st WOMAN:
Playing the game, were we, Fagin?
FAGIN:
As is our custom, my dear.
2nd WOMAN:
He's new. Who's he?
FAGIN:
Oh, this is Oliver.
Oliver... these are our very good friends
Bet and Nancy.
(Oliver bows)
BET:
See, Dodger, you wanna learn from him.
He's got manners, he has. A proper
gentleman.
NANCY:
We popped in because we were that cold inside.
FAGIN:
As is your custom, my dear.
Charley.
BET:
Come on, Oliver. Join us.
Or don't you sit with the common folk?
Now, you wanna be careful of this lot, Oliver.
They'll have you picking--
FAGIN:
Picking out the marks.
Just what we was teaching him, ain't it, Oliver,
my dear?
OLIVER:
Yes, sir.
NANCY:
"Yes, sir"? You know who you're talking to,
do you?
BET:
What's your mother got to say about you being
here?
OLIVER:
I haven't got a mother. I'm an orphan.
DODGER:
You're in the right company, then.
BET:
Come on, Oliver, I'll teach you how to play.
It's called Spec or Speculation.
Three cards each, and then the one he turns
up... is trumps.
FAGIN:
This is a pleasant life, ain't it,
my dear?
INT. FAGIN'S FLAT - DAY
OLIVER:
When can I go out, sir?
FAGIN:
Soon. Soon.
Let's... let's see what you've learned.
Would you like that?
OLIVER:
Oh, yes, sir.
FAGIN:
See if you can take this out... without my
feeling it.
(Oliver steals the handkerchief)
FAGIN:
Is it gone?
You're a clever boy, my dear. I never saw
a sharper lad. Here's a shilling for you.
Make the Dodger and Charley your models.
Especially the Dodger, my dear. He'll be
a great man himself, make you one too.
You go on this way... you'll be the greatest
man of the time.
OLIVER:
Thank you very much, sir.
EXT. STREET - DAY
VENDOR:
Lovely white apples.
Get your lovely apples.
VENDOR:
Biggest cabbages in town.
Come on.
(in front of a bookshop Dodger and Charley
steal from a gentleman)
BOOKSELLER:
Thief! Your handkerchief, sir.
(Oliver fails to escape)
PEOPLE:
DODGER:
CHARLEY:
Stop, thief!
Stop!
Thief!
You're a thief!
Get him!
Stop him!
Stop that boy!
Thief!
Stop, thief!
Thief!
Stop him!
Mind out.
Stop, thief!
There, over there.
That way!
Stop, thief! Stop!
(Oliver, hit in the face, falls)
PEOPLE:
What's your name, boy?
Give him some air.
He's scared to death.
WOMAN:
Where's the gentleman?
MAN:
Here's the gentleman now.
Is this the boy, sir?
GENTLEMAN:
Yes, I'm afraid it is.
MAN:
That's a good one.
Did you hear him, "afraid it is"?
GENTLEMAN:
Poor fellow's hurt himself.
OLD MAN:
Yeah, I did that, sir.
Hurt me knuckle against his mouth.
But I stopped him.
POLICEMAN:
Get up!
OLIVER:
It wasn't me, sir. It wasn't me.
POLICEMAN:
Of course it wasn't. It never is.
Now get up.
GENTLEMAN:
Don't hurt him.
POLICEMAN:
Oh, no, sir, I won't hurt him.
This way, gentlemen.
INT. POLICE COURT - DAY
POLICEMAN:
This way, gentlemen.
MAGISTRATE:
What's next?
GENTLEMAN:
(handing his name card to the magistrate)
That is my name and address, sir.
MAGISTRATE:
Officer, who is this fellow?
GENTLEMAN:
My name is Brownlow.
MAGISTRATE:
Hold your tongue.
Officer, what's this fellow charged with?
POLICEMAN:
Oh, no, no. He's not charged, Your Worship.
He appears against the boy.
MAGISTRATE:
Swear him.
GENTLEMAN:
Before I am sworn... I must beg to say
one word.
MAGISTRATE:
Hold your tongue, sir.
GENTLEMAN:
I will not, sir!
MAGISTRATE:
Hold your tongue this instant.
You're an insolent, impertinent fellow.
How dare you bully a magistrate.
GENTLEMAN:
What?
MAGISTRATE:
Swear this person.
I'll not hear another word. Swear him.
GENTLEMAN:
"l do solemnly swear to tell the whole
truth, so help me God."
MAGISTRATE:
What's the charge against the boy?
GENTLEMAN:
I was at a bookstore when--
MAGISTRATE:
Hold your tongue!
Where's the policeman?
Policeman, what is this?
Are there any witnesses?
POLICEMAN:
None, Your Worship.
GENTLEMAN:
The boy is ill.
MAGISTRATE:
Oh, yes, I daresay.
Come along, you vagabond.
None of your tricks here.
What's your name?
OLIVER:
Water...
MAGISTRATE:
What's your name, you hardened scoundrel?
Officer, what's his name?
POLICEMAN:
What's your name, boy?
OLIVER:
Some water. Some water.
POLICEMAN:
He says his name is Sam Waters,
Your Worship.
MAGISTRATE:
Where does he live?
POLICEMAN:
Where do you live?
Anywhere he can, Your Worship.
MAGISTRATE:
Stuff and nonsense.
Don't try to make a fool out of me.
POLICEMAN:
No, I think he really is ill,
Your Worship.
MAGISTRATE:
I know better, or my name's not Fang.
(Oliver faints)
(cont'd)
Stand away, officer. He's shamming.
He stands committed for three months.
Hard labor, of course.
Clear the office.
2nd MAN:
Stop. Stop, stop!
Don't take him away.
MAGISTRATE:
What is this? Who is this?
Turn this man out.
Clear the office.
2nd MAN:
I
I
I
I
will not be turned out!
will speak!
saw it all. I own the bookshop.
demand to be heard.
MAGISTRATE:
What have you got to say?
2nd MAN:
It was not this boy.
MAGISTRATE:
Not this boy? Who was it, then?
2nd MAN:
The robbery was committed by two others
while the man was reading.
I saw it done. I saw that this boy
was perfectly amazed by it.
MAGISTRATE:
Why didn't you come before?
2nd MAN:
I hadn't a soul to mind the shop.
MAGISTRATE:
Reading, you say? A book, I suppose.
2nd MAN:
Yes, the very one he has in his hand.
GENTLEMAN:
Oh, dear me, I forgot all about it.
MAGISTRATE:
Well, you're a nice one. To prefer a charge
against an innocent boy. I consider, sir,
that you've obtained that book... under very
suspicious and disreputable circumstances.
GENTLEMAN:
Damn me!
MAGISTRATE:
Bookseller... do you want to press charges
against him?
2nd MAN:
Certainly not.
MAGISTRATE:
Well... think yourself fortunate... that the
owner of the book declines to prosecute.
The boy is discharged. Clear the office.
GENTLEMAN:
Damn me.
MAGISTRATE:
Clear the office! Clear the office!
Next case.
POLICEMEN:
Come on. Move along, sir, please.
Just move along, sir.
There's a good gentleman, sir.
Hold on, Harry. I'll give you a hand.
Mind that step. Just mind that step there.
Make way for the law, sir.
(they carry out Oliver)
Careful. Careful with him.
He seems very young too.
GENTLEMAN:
Call a coach, pray.
POLICEMAN:
Yeah, right away, sir.
GENTLEMAN:
(returns the book to the bookseller)
I'm sorry.
Poor boy.
POLICEMAN:
Mind yourself, madam.
(cont'd)
Got one, sir.
GENTLEMAN:
Thank you, officer.
POLICEMAN:
Let me, sir. There we go.
BOOKSELLER:
Will you drop me off, sir?
GENTLEMAN:
Of course.
POLICEMAN:
If you could just take his head, sir.
Where to, sir?
GENTLEMAN:
Pentonville.
POLICEMAN:
Pentonville.
COACHMAN:
Yes.
INT. FAGIN'S FLAT - NIGHT
FAGIN:
Answer me! Where is he?
Answer me! Where is he?
What's become of the boy?
Speak out, or I'll throttle you!
DODGER:
The traps have got him!
Let go of me, will you?!
FAGIN:
(throws a glass at Dodger)
(Bill enters)
BILL:
(to his dog) Bullseye!
Who pitched this here at me?
Who done it?
FAGIN:
Bullseye. Come in, you sneaking warmint.
What you stopping outside for?
BILL:
(to his dog) Lay down.
What you up to, Fagin? Ill-treating the boys
again? A wonder they don't murder you.
I would, if I was them.
FAGIN:
Don't speak so loud.
You seem out of sorts, Bill.
BILL:
Give us a drink. And mind you don't poison it.
FAGIN:
Charley.
Good stuff, Bill.
BILL:
So, Dodger... what's it all about?
DODGER:
A new boy.
Come out with us afore he was rightly up to it.
Got nabbed by the traps.
FAGIN:
You see, Bill... I'm afraid he may say something
which will get us into trouble.
BILL:
You were blowed upon, Fagin.
And about time.
FAGIN:
And I'm afraid, you see, Bill, that if the game
was up with us... it would come out rather worse
for you than it would for me, my dear.
BILL:
There's only one thing for it.
Somebody's gotta find out at the office what's
being done to him. Somebody's gotta get hold
of him somehow.
DODGER:
I ain't going near no police office.
Not for nobody, nohow.
FAGIN:
I have it, the very thing.
Bet will go. Won't you, my dear?
BET:
I'm blessed, if I will.
FAGIN:
Nancy, my dear, what do you say?
NANCY:
It won't do. There's no use in trying
it on, Fagin.
BILL:
What do you mean by that?
NANCY:
What I say.
BILL:
Why, you're just the very person for it.
Nobody about here knows anything about you.
NANCY:
And as I don't want them to neither.
It's rather more "no" than "yes" with me, Bill.
BILL:
She'll go, Fagin.
NANCY:
No, she won't, Fagin.
BILL:
Yes, she will, Fagin.
EXT. POLICE OFFICE - DAY
POLICEMAN:
Can I help you, miss?
NANCY:
I'm looking for my little brother.
POLICEMAN:
Now, who would he be?
NANCY:
A lovely little boy.
Lovely manners. Gentle as falling snow.
POLICEMAN:
We don't get many of those.
I think you'll be wanting Mr. Fang's court.
(cont'd)
George, this here young lady is looking for
her brother. The one that fainted and got
away with it.
GEORGE:
Oh, yeah. Gentleman took him away.
NANCY:
What gentleman? Gracious heavens, what
gentleman?
GEORGE:
Well, lives in Pentonville, I believe.
NANCY:
Oh, my God.
GEORGE:
No, no. Wait, wait, wait.
His card's here somewhere.
Here we are.
NANCY:
Thank you, sir.
INT. MR. BROWNLOW'S HOUSE - NIGHT
OLIVER:
(wakes up and tries to walk, but faints again)
MAID:
Mr. Brownlow.
Mr. Brownlow.
BROWNLOW:
There's something in him... that touched my
heart, Mrs. Bedwin. Can't explain it.
MAID:
I feel the same, sir.
(Brownlow is playing chess with his friend, Grimwig)
GRIMWIG:
Who is he? What is he? You know nothing
of him. He had a fever. What of that?
Bad people have fevers sometimes.
I knew a man in Jamaica who was hanged for
murdering his master. He had a fever six
times.
BROWNLOW:
I know there is goodness in him.
GRIMWIG:
How do you know it?
BROWNLOW:
Goodness and innocence.
I knew it the first moment I saw him.
GRIMWIG:
He'll deceive you. Let you down at the first
opportunity... like all your other good and
innocent causes.
If that boy's good and innocent, I'll eat my
own head, sir.
INT. MORNING
BROWNLOW:
How do you feel, my dear?
OLIVER:
Very happy, sir.
And very grateful to you indeed, sir.
BROWNLOW:
Good boy.
Have you given him any nourishment, Bedwin?
Any slops?
BEDWIN:
Not slops, sir. Broth.
BROWNLOW:
A couple of glasses of port wine... would
have done him a great deal more good.
Wouldn't they, Sam?
OLIVER:
My name is Oliver, sir.
BROWNLOW:
Oliver?
Oliver what? Oliver Waters?
OLIVER:
No, sir. Twist. Oliver Twist.
BROWNLOW:
Why did you tell the magistrate your name
was Waters?
OLIVER:
I never told him so, sir.
BROWNLOW:
You did not?
OLIVER:
No, sir.
You're not angry with me, are you?
BROWNLOW:
No, no.
Queer name. Oliver Twist.
INT. BROWNLOW'S STUDY - DAY
BROWNLOW:
There are a great many books, are there
not, my boy?
OLIVER:
A great number, sir.
Never saw so many.
BROWNLOW:
How would you like to grow up a clever man
... and write books?
OLIVER:
I think I'd rather read them, sir.
BROWNLOW:
Wouldn't you like to be a book writer?
OLIVER:
I think it'd be a better thing to be a
bookseller, sir.
BROWNLOW:
You have said a very good thing.
Well, well.
We won't make an author of you while there's
an honest trade to be learned or brickmaking
to turn to.
OLIVER:
Are you going to send me away, sir?
BROWNLOW:
No, my dear child.
You need not be afraid that I am going to
desert you... unless you give me cause.
OLIVER:
I never, never will, sir.
BROWNLOW:
I hope not... because I feel strongly
disposed to trust you.
OLIVER:
Thank you, sir.
EXT./INT. BROWNLOW'S HOUSE - DAY
(Mrs. Bedwin and Oliver are burning his clothes)
OLIVER:
I'm pleased I won't have to wear those again.
BEDWIN:
So are we all, my dear.
(handing him a stick) There.
OLIVER:
(notices the dog, Bullseye)
(Bill and Nancy are sitting at a sidewalk table in a pub)
(A delivery boy comes to Brownlow's house)
GRIMWIG:
What's that?
BROWNLOW:
This is young Oliver Twist.
OLIVER:
The bookseller's boy brought a package.
BROWNLOW:
Oh, stop him, Oliver. There's some books
to go back.
GRIMWIG:
Is that the boy who had the fever?
BROWNLOW:
That's the boy.
OLIVER:
(runs after the delivery boy)
(cont'd)
No sign of him, sir.
BROWNLOW:
Oh, dear, I'm very sorry for that.
I particularly wished some books to be
returned tonight.
GRIMWIG:
Why not send Oliver with them?
He'll be sure to deliver them safely.
OLIVER:
Yes, do let me take them.
If you please, sir. I'll run all the way.
BROWNLOW:
You shall go, my dear.
Ask Mrs. Bedwin to show you the way.
And, Oliver....
OLIVER:
Yes, sir?
BROWNLOW:
Give the bookseller this.
The money I owe him.
OLIVER:
I won't be long, sir.
BROWNLOW:
How long do you think it'll take him?
GRIMWIG:
You really expect him to come back?
BROWNLOW:
You don't?
GRIMWIG:
With a 5 note in his pocket?
No, I do not.
If ever that boy returns to this house...
I'll eat my own head, sir. And yours.
EXT. STREET NEAR PENTONVILLE - DAY
NANCY:
Oh, my little brother!
I don't believe my eyes.
OLIVER:
Let me go. Help!
NANCY:
It's a miracle. Oh, I've found him.
OLIVER:
Please let me go.
NANCY:
Oh, Oliver. Oliver.
OLIVER:
Nancy.
NANCY:
You're such a naughty boy to make me suffer
such distress on your account.
OLIVER:
Let go of me!
WOMAN:
What's the matter, ma'am?
NANCY:
He ran away from his parents.
OLIVER:
Get off me!
NANCY:
Hard-working, respectable people... and
joined a set of thieves and bad characters.
Broke his mother's heart.
2nd WOMAN:
Young wretch.
Go home, you little brute.
OLIVER:
I haven't got any parents.
I'm an orphan. I live in Pentonville.
NANCY:
Oh, only hear him, how he braves it out.
BILL:
What? Young Oliver.
OLIVER:
It's true.
BILL:
You come home to your poor mother.
OLIVER:
I don't belong to them! I don't know them!
Help! Help!
BILL:
"Help, help"?
(slaps him) I'll give you "help, help," you
little wretch!
And these books. Have you been a-stealing them,
have you, eh? You little villain.
3rd WOMAN:
That's right. You give it to him.
Only way to bring him to his senses.
BILL:
I will, missus.
And you come with me, you little wretch.
NANCY:
It'll do him good.
OLOVER:
Who is this man? Help!
BILL:
Bullseye, mind him, boy.
Mind him.
OLIVER:
Help! Help!
INT. FAGIN'S FLAT - NIGHT
BOYS:
Look
Hold
Hold
Look
at him, Fagin.
me, somebody.
me, somebody, while I laugh it out.
at his togs, Fagin.
FAGIN:
Delighted to see you looking so well,
my dear. Why didn't you write, my dear,
and say you was coming? We'd have got
something warm for supper.
(finds a 5 note in Oliver's pocket)
BILL:
Hello, Fagin. What's that?
That's mine, Fagin.
FAGIN:
Oh, no, my dear. Mine, Bill, mine.
You shall have the books.
BILL:
If that ain't mine and Nancy's, I'll take
the boy back again. Come on, hand over,
will you?
FAGIN:
This is hardly fair, Bill.
Hardly fair, Nancy.
BILL:
Fair or not fair, hand over, I tell you.
Give it here, you avaricious old skeleton.
Give it here! That's for our share of the
trouble, and not half enough neither.
You may keep the books if you're fond of
reading. If you ain't, sell them.
DODGER:
They're very pretty. Beautiful writing,
isn't it, Oliver?
OLIVER:
Send them back. They belong to Mr. Brownlow.
Send them back. The books and the money.
He'll think I stole them. Please send
them back.
FAGIN:
The boy's right. You're right, Oliver.
You're right. They will think you've stolen
them. It couldn't have happened better if
we'd chosen our time.
OLIVER:
(runs away)
Help! Help! Police!
Fetch the police! The police!
NANCY:
Keep back the dog, Bill.
He'll tear the boy to pieces.
BILL:
Serve him right.
OLIVER:
Help! Fetch the police!
Fetch the police!
BILL:
Step aside, or I'll split your head against
the wall.
NANCY:
I don't care.
That child shan't be torn down by the dog
unless you kill me first.
BILL:
(knocks her flat)
Bullseye. Here. Bullseye!
FAGIN:
Dodger! Get after him!
OLIVER:
Take your hands off me!
FAGIN:
So you wanted to get away, my dear,
did you? Wanted to call for the police,
did you? We'll soon cure you of that.
(hits Oliver with a stick)
NANCY:
I won't stand by and see this done, Fagin.
You got the boy. What more do you want?
BILL:
Keep quiet, Nancy, or I'll quieten you
for a good long time to come.
NANCY:
Let him be. Let him be!
BILL:
You're a fine one for the boy to make a
friend of.
NANCY:
God Almighty help me, I am.
He's a thief, a liar, a devil, all that's
bad from this night forth.
(to Fagin) Ain't that enough for the old
wretch without blows?
FAGIN:
Come, come, we must have civil words.
Civil words.
NANCY:
Civil words?
Civil words, you old villain!
I thieved for you when I was a child
not half as old as this.
FAGIN:
It's your living.
NANCY:
Yes, and you're the wretch that drove me to
it... and who will keep me at it, day and
night, till I die!
(beats Fagin)
FAGIN:
Dodger, Charley, put Oliver to bed.
CHARLEY:
Best to take them clothes off. They're too
good to sleep in.
DODGER:
Charley's right. This here suit cost more
than 4 pence ha'penny.
CHARLEY:
I never felt such lovely stuff.
Have you, Dodger?
DODGER:
Not me. But I'm willing to lay odds... this
is the same stuff the queen wears on Sundays.
BOYS:
Quick, get him.
Take it off.
Lift him up.
Up he goes.
Get them shoes off.
OLIVER:
(is confined to a room upstairs)
INT. FAGIN'S FLAT - DAY
FAGIN:
Little something for your luncheon,
my dear?
Shall we have a little chat?
Oliver? Shall us?
(cont'd)
I expect you'd welcome... the sound of a
human voice again, eh, my dear?
Do you know... what I consider the greatest
sin in the world, my dear? ... Ingratitude.
And that's what you're guilty of... ingratitude.
We took you in, we cherished you. If we hadn't,
you'd have died of hunger. How do you repay
us? You run away... you cry out for the police,
you cause us great anxiety and expense.
(cont'd)
There was a lad once, just like you, and I was
a father to him. He ran away, like you. He
indeed went to the police. And can you guess
how he ended up? They hanged him... at the
Old Bailey. Certain evidence was made available,
not all of it precisely true... but all of it
necessary to provide for my own safety... and
that of my friends. Yeah. Poor boy. Hanged.
It's a terrible thing, hanging, Oliver.
Dawn, the gallows... the rope, the noose.
You don't always have to be guilty, you see,
Oliver. They hang you for anything these days.
That's because they're so very fond of hanging.
But if you do as you're told, we'll be very
good friends yet. You must feel free to walk
about now, Oliver. Yes, feel free.
DODGER:
Here, Oliver.
OLIVER:
Yes?
DODGER:
I'd like you to assist me in my toilet
straightaway. Will you do that for me,
my man?
OLIVER:
All right. I'll be glad to have company.
DODGER:
There's a good fellow. You may start by
japanning my trotter-cases. In plain
English, clean my boots.
... What a pity he ain't a prig.
OLIVER:
He don't know what's good for him.
DODGER:
I suppose you don't know what a prig is.
OLIVER:
Yes, I do. It's a.... It's a thief.
You're one, aren't you?
DODGER:
Yes, I am. And so we all are.
Down to the dog... and he's the downiest
one of the lot.
CHARLEY:
And the least given to peaching.
DODGER:
He wouldn't so much as bark in a witness
box... for fear of committing himself.
CHARLEY:
He's an out-and-out Christian, he is.
DODGER:
Why don't you put yourself under Fagin,
Oliver? You'll make a fortune out of hand.
Like your old gentleman in Pentonville.
Big house, that. I had a peep at it, I
did. Nice inside, was it?
OLIVER:
Yes. And I slept in a proper bed.
In my own room.
CHARLEY:
Good stuff on the walls, eh?
OLIVER:
Yes. Indeed.
DODGER:
Put yourself under Fagin... and you'll be
able to retire to a property just like that.
And do the genteel.
CHARLEY:
No, he's scared he'll come to be scragged.
OLIVER:
I don't know what that means.
CHARLEY:
(imitates the way of hanging)
DODGER:
If you don't take pocket handkerchiefs and
watches, Nolly... some other cove will.
You have the same right to them as they
have.
FAGIN:
To be sure. To be sure.
It all lies in a nutshell, my dear, in a
nutshell. Take the Dodger's word for it.
He understands the catechism of his trade.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
(a coach comes along)
FAGIN:
Cabby?
(puts Oliver in the coach)
NANCY:
I've come from Bill.
OLIVER:
For what?
NANCY:
For no harm.
OLIVER:
I don't believe it.
NANCY:
If I could help you, I would, but I've
not the power. Now, I've promised him
you'll be good and silent. If you're not,
you'll only do yourself harm. And me too.
INT. BILL'S FLAT - NIGHT
BILL:
Did he come quiet?
NANCY:
Like a lamb.
BILL:
Sit down.
And let me read you a lecture.
You know what this is?
OLIVER:
Yes.
BILL:
Well, then.
This is powder.
That here's a bullet.
And this is a little bit of an old hat...
for wadding.
Now it's loaded.
OLIVER:
Yes, I can see it is, sir.
BILL:
If you speak a word when you're out of doors
with me... unless I speak to you, this loading
will go in your head without notice. So if you
do make up your mind to speak without leave...
says your prayers first.
NANCY:
The short and long of what you meanis that if
you're crossed by him, you'll prevent him from
telling tales after... by shooting him through
the head. And you'll take your chance of
swinging for it.
BILL:
That's it. Women always put things in the
fewest words.
Supper, Nancy. And then a snooze afore
starting.
INT. TOBY'S HIDEOUT - NIGHT
TOBY:
My pal Bill.
The door's open, come in.
BILL:
Don't make such a row.
Show us a glim, Toby.
TOBY:
Barney, a glim.
Show the gentleman in.
Barney?
Wake up first, if convenient.
BARNEY:
Mr. Sykes. Come in, sir, come in.
TOBY:
Bill, my boy. Glad to see you.
Who's...? Who's this?
BILL:
Only the boy.
BARNEY:
One of Mr. Fagin's lads?
BILL:
Yeah. It's time.
TOBY:
Right.
Barkers for me, Barney.
BARNEY:
They're loaded.
TOBY:
Good.
The persuaders?
BILL:
Got them.
TOBY:
Keys, center bits.
Darkies.
Nothing forgotten?
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
BARNEY:
Yeah, it's all quiet.
(Bill, Toby and Oliver go out)
OLIVER:
I can't. I can't.　BILL:
You will.
OLIVER:
It's Mr. Brownlow's house.
Have mercy.
Don't make me steal from him.
Have mercy on me.
BILL:
Come here.
OLIVER:
For God's sake, let me run away and die
in the fields. I'll never come near
London, never.
BILL:
Shut it.
Get up, or I'll strew your brains on the
grass.
BILL:
I'm putting you through there.
Go to the front door and unfasten it.
OLIVER:
I can't, there's a bolt at the top.
I know it, I can't reach it.
BILL:
Well, stand on a chair or something.
Just do it.
(Bill and Toby manage to let Oliver in
the house)
BILL:
To the door.
To the front door, damn you.
BEDWIN:
Who's there?
BROWNLOW:
Mrs. Bedwin? Is that you?
(Oliver unfasten the front door)
OLIVER:
Save me! Save me!
Save me, for God's sake!
(Oliver runs away, but is shot)
BEDWIN:
Help!
Help! Police!
(Bill and Toby escape holding Oliver)
TOBY:
Give him here.
BILL:
Oh, damnation, how he bleeds.
TOBY:
Is he hit bad?
BILL:
He's gotta be hit worse.
Give me a pistol.
TOBY:
What?
BILL:
We gotta get rid of him, or he'll squeal.
TOBY:
We gotta do him in.
BILL:
Here, here. Down here by the river.
(loses his footing and falls into the river)
TOBY:
But, Bill! Bill!
Bill?
BILL:
Help!
Help! Help!
TOBY:
Bill.
BILL:
Help!
INT. FAGIN'S FLAT - NIGHT
(the boys are playing cards)
BOYS:
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
TOBY:
Well, well.
How are you, Fagey?
FAGIN:
(to the boys) Scarce. Scarce!
Where's Bill?
NANCY:
He's... He's bleeding.
FAGIN:
What happened?
TOBY:
All in good time.
I can't talk business till I've ate and
drank.
FAGIN:
Nancy, I said, scarce. Scarce!
NANCY:
Where's Bill?
TOBY:
Well, produce the sustenance, if you
please.
FAGIN:
Dodger!
Nancy, scarce!
TOBY:
The crack failed.
FAGIN:
I smelt that.
For the last time of asking, where's Bill?
TOBY:
Dodger.
FAGIN:
Put him to bed, give him a nip of gin.
TOBY:
The boy was about to blow on us, Fagey.
He was seen.
FAGIN:
Seen?
He was seen? Who saw him?
TOBY:
Two old ones. He shouted out.
Bill lost his head, fired his pistol....
FAGIN:
And hit the boy?
TOBY:
I don't know. There was two shots.
Only one was Bill's.
We made a run for it.
I had ahold of the boy, and Bill fell.
FAGIN:
Fell? Was he hurt?
TOBY:
No. Last seen, he was swimming to London.
INT. BILL'S HIDEOUT
NANCY:
Bullseye.
BILL:
I told you not to bring a soul here.
Now you've brought the devil.
NANCY:
You said to fetch him.
His fever is that high, he don't remember
nothing.
FAGIN:
You're not well, are you, Bill?
How do you feel today?
BILL:
I'm as weak as water.
Get us a drink.
What evil wind has blowed you here?
FAGIN:
No evil wind, my dear.
You, Bill, you. You said we need to speak.
BILL:
What you done with that boy?
Where is he?
FAGIN:
Safe and sound.
The Dodger's minding him.
They're as close as Cain and Abel.
What about the boy, Bill?
BILL:
We don't want anyone peaching on us, do we?
And as long as that boy's alive, we're as
good as hung.
FANG:
So, what's to be done?
BILL:
Nothing.
FANG:
Nothing?
BILL:
Not till I'm better.
FAGIN:
Then what?
BILL:
Then I'll do for him.
FAGIN:
How, Bill? Where?
BILL:
Outside of London somewhere.
I'll find a river and I'll drown him.
FAGIN:
The boy's weak.
Bill, he was wounded.
He can hardly stand, let alone walk.
BILL:
When he can walk, tell me. I'll fetch him.
Now, get out of here.
FAGIN:
Yes. Yes.
Bill, you're right. It's for the best.
BILL:
I'm burning up.
Give me me physic. Where's me physic?
You look like a corpse come back to life
again.
What's the matter?
NANCY:
Nothing.
What do you look at me so hard for?
BILL:
What you thinking of?
NANCY:
Of many things, Bill.
BILL:
What odds in that?
I'll tell you what it is. If you
haven't caught the fever, then there's
something more than usual in the wind.
And something dangerous too.
Give me me physic, I say.
(to himself) No, no, no.
There ain't a stauncher-hearted girl going...
or I'd have cut her throat three months ago.
She's got a fever coming on. That's it.
NANCY:
Here. Make you feel better.
BILL:
Sit aside me.
Put on your own face, or I'll alter it so you
won't know it again.
EXT. BROWNLOW'S HOUSE
NANCY:
(to the driver) Wait.
(konoks at the front door)
Ma'am.
BEDWIN:
Yes?
NANCY:
Does Mr. Brownlow live here?
BEDWIN:
Who are you? What do you want?
Go around the back.
NANCY:
I have information about Oliver Twist.
BEDWIN:
Is he all right? Is he safe?
Where is he?
NANCY:
I will only talk to Mr. Brownlow.
BEDWIN:
He's not here.
NANCY:
The boy's innocent, tell him that.
BEDWIN:
Where is he?
NANCY:
Safe.
But he may not be for long.
BEDWIN:
Where is he?
NANCY:
Give Mr. Brownlow a message.
Tell him to meet me on Sunday at midnight
on London Bridge.
BEDWIN:
Midnight?
NANCY:
And if I'm not there... then tell him to
come the next night and the next. I'll be
there. Tell him.
INT. FAGIN'S FLAT - NIGHT
FAGIN:
There, my dear, you look as good as new.
How do you feel?
OLIVER:
Tired, sir.
FAGIN:
Well, yes, yes.
It is long after midnight.
Shortly, you'll sleep a good sleep.
But my meaning was... how do you feel
in yourself, Oliver?
OLIVER:
Better. Thank you, sir.
But for the ache in my arm.
FAGIN:
Come sit.
I have the very thing for such pains as
yours, my dear.
Undo the bandage.
Oh, my God. It's a nasty wound.
But my magic will do the trick.
You'll see, my dear.
This remedy... is older than time. Yes...
my dear, older than time. It was handed
down from father to son... father to son,
and comes from... who can say where?
OLIVER:
Thank you, sir. Thank you.
For your kindness. I'll always remember it.
FAGIN:
Well.... Well.... Always.
Yes, always, my dear.
But who knows how long that will be.
INT. BILL'S HIDEOUT - NIGHT
BILL:
An hour this side of midnight.
Dark and heavy it is too.
Good night for business, this.
FAGIN:
What a pity, Bill, my dear, there's none
quite ready to be done.
BILL:
Yeah, for once, you're right.
When will the boy be well enough to go on
his travels?
FAGIN:
Like I say, Bill. In a day or two.
BILL:
It's a pity. For I'm in the humor to.
FAGIN:
Does me good to hear you.
You're like yourself tonight, Bill.
Quite like yourself.
BILL:
I don't feel like myself when you lay that
withered claw on my shoulder... so take
it away.
(cont'd)
Hello, Nance.
Where's the girl going to this time of
night?
NANCY:
Not far.
BILL:
What answer's that? Where you going?
NANCY:
I say, not far.
BILL:
And I say, where?
NANCY:
I don't know where.
BILL:
Then I do, nowhere. Sit down.
NANCY:
I'm not well. I want a breath of air.
BILL:
Put your head out the window.
NANCY:
There's not enough there.
I want it in the street.
BILL:
Then you won't have it.
(locks the front door)
There. Now, stop quietly where you are,
will you?
NANCY:
Do you know what you're doing?
BILL:
Do I know what I'm--?
I think this girl's lost her senses.
You talking to me in that way?
NANCY:
You'll drive me on to something desperate.
Now, let me go, will you?
This minute, this instant.
BILL:
No!
NANCY:
Tell him to let me go, Fagin.
It'll be better for him.
Do you hear me?
BILL:
Aye, I hear you.
And if I have to listen to you for half a
minute longer... the dog will tear some of
that screaming voice out!
What's come over you, you jade?
What is it?
NANCY:
Bill, let me go.
Let me go.
You don't know what you're doing.
For only one hour.
BILL:
Cut my limbs off one by one if I don't
think the girl's stark raving mad.
Get up. Get up!
NANCY:
No.
BILL:
(takes her to the next room)
Now, stay there!
What a precious, strange girl that is!
FAGIN:
You may say that, Bill, you may say that.
BILL:
Why did she take it in her head to go out
tonight?
FAGIN:
Obstinacy. Women's obstinacy, I suppose,
my dear.
BILL:
I thought I tamed her of that.
But she's as bad as ever.
I think she's got a touch of my fever in
her blood and it won't come out.
FAGIN:
Like enough.
BILL:
Well, if she's taken that way again, I'll
let her a little blood. Without troubling
the doctor.
(Nancy comes out of the room, laughing)
BILL:
Why, now she's on the other tack.
FAGIN:
Good night.
In two days, Bill, come for the boy.
BILL:
Light him down.
It's a pity he should fall and break his neck
without anyone seeing it.
FAGIN:
BILL:
Show him a light.
FAGIN:
(descending the stairs)
What is it, Nancy dear, the reason for
all this?
NANCY:
What do you mean?
FAGIN:
That matter just now. We'll speak of
this anon. You have a friend in me,
Nance. A staunch friend. You know me
of old, Nance.
NANCY:
I know you well. Good night.
INT. PUB - NIGHT
(the pub is crammed with people)
BOY:
Dodger... pull it in.
MAN:
My glass is full already, can't you see?
DODGER:
(seeing Fagin come up)
Trouble?
FAGIN:
Dodger.
DODGER:
Something up?
FAGIN:
I.... I want you to do a piece of work for
me that requires great care and caution.
DODGER:
What is it?
I ain't going near no police office.
That don't suit me, that don't.
FAGIN:
There's not the smallest danger in it.
Not the smallest. I want someone dodged.
DODGER:
Who, an old one?
FAGIN:
Young one.
DODGER:
Who is she?
FAGIN:
One of us.
DODGER:
Who? Nancy?
What's she been up to?
FAGIN:
Not sure she's been up to anything...
my dear, that's why I want her dodged.
She may want to talk to people she shouldn't
want to talk to. I want to know where she
goes, who she sees, what she says.
DODGER:
Nancy. I don't know. She's a good one,
is Nancy.
FAGIN:
A pound, my dear. One whole pound.
EXT. LONDON BRIDGE - NIGHT
NANCY:
Mr. Brownlow?
BROWNLOW:
Yes.
NANCY:
I'm afraid to speak to you here.
Come away. Follow me.
BROWNLOW:
This is far enough.
Why can't we speak up there?
NANCY:
I told you, I'm afraid.
I may be followed.
BROWNLOW:
I'm here because you told my housekeeper
you have information concerning Oliver Twist.
NANCY:
So I have.
BROWNLOW:
Tell me.
NANCY:
He's being held by the devil... and he's
handing him over to another what means to...
BROWNLOW:
I must know more. Is it someone close
to you?
NANCY:
One is. One ain't.
BROWNLOW:
These men, whoever they are... must be
delivered up by you.
NANCY:
Never.
Bad a life as he has led, I've led a bad
life too, and I will not turn upon him.
The other. Fagin. He has the boy.
BROWNLOW:
Fagin.
NANCY:
Find Fagin, you'll find the boy.
BROWNLOW:
Where is he?
NANCY:
Spitalfields. That's all I'll say.
I've said too much. No one must never
know who told you. Promise.
BROWNLOW:
I promise.
Tomorrow I'll go to the police.
NANCY:
No, you must do it tonight.
Just say Fagin, and the traps will know.
BROWNLOW:
The traps?
NANCY:
The police.
BROWNLOW:
What can I do to serve you?
NANCY:
Nothing. You can do nothing.
I am past all hope indeed.
BROWNLOW:
Take this as a reward.
NANCY:
No, I've not done this for money.
God bless you. Good night.
Never-- Never say who told you.
INT. FAGIN'S FLAT - NIGHT
FAGIN:
Look at him.
What a shame it is. With his face...
he could pick old ladies' pockets in
church. His face could be a fortune
to us.
BILL:
You changing your mind?
FAGIN:
No.
No, Bill, it has to be done.
DODGER:
Fagin! Fagin!
FAGIN:
What's got into you, Dodger?
DODGER:
I have to see Fagin alone.
FAGIN:
No, no, you can speak in front of Bill.
DODGER:
No, I can't.
FAGIN:
Yes, you can. Speak, Dodger, tell us.
DODGER:
Nancy.
BILL:
What about Nancy?
FAGIN:
He done a bit of work for me, Bill.
I had him dodge Nancy.
BILL:
What do you mean?
FAGIN:
Tell us, Dodger. You followed her?
DODGER:
Yes. To London Bridge.
BILL:
And what? What on London Bridge?
DODGER:
She met an old one. A gentleman.
And....
BILL:
And? Speak, will you?!
DODGER:
She peached.
She told him Fagin had Oliver.
And the old man was to go to the traps.
Now, tonight.
BILL:
(Bill starts to go out, but Fagin stops him)
Let me go. Let me out!
FAGIN:
Bill! Bill! A word--
BILL:
Don't speak to me, it's not safe!
FAGIN:
Hear me speak a word!
Bill, you won't be....
You won't be too violent, Bill?
(Bill goes home with his dog)
FAGIN:
Flit, boys, flit!
The traps will be at the door afore you
can say "Spitalfields."
Flit!
Flit! Flit!
Flit! Flit! Flit!
(to Oliver) Come on.
INT. BILL'S HIDEOUT - NIGHT
NANCY:
Oh, it's you. Bill?
What's the matter?
Bill, why do you look like that at me?
BILL:
There's enough light for what I've gotta do.
NANCY:
What...? What have I done?
Speak to me.
BILL:
You know. You was watched tonight.
Every word you said was heard.
NANCY:
I... I never said your name, Bill.
Never. Never.
Bill. Bill. Bill!
Oh, God. Oh, God, have mercy!
EXT. BILL'S HIDEOUT - DAY
BET:
Nance? Nance?
(sees a puddle of blood on the floor)
INT. WAREHOUSE - DAY
TOBY:
Hello, Fagey.
Hello, lads.
FAGIN:
What's the news, Toby?
What's the news?
TOBY:
I have it here, Fagin.
It's all in The Chronicle.
You're in it. Bill's in it.
Oliver's in it.
DODGER:
The Chronicle?
Fancy that. You're famous, Fagin.
FAGIN:
Read it.
TOBY:
"More information has reached your
correspondent... concerning the foul
and bestial murder that took place in
Spitalfields and which has shocked and
appalled the citizens of London.
It is believed that the victim, a young
woman... now identified as Nancy was brutally
beaten to death by one William Sykes...
a well-known, dangerous villain. The motive
is as yet unclear... but your correspondent
has learned that the murdered woman had
informed on her associate and on an infamous
fence, Fagin... who is now wanted for the
abduction of a young boy, Oliver Twist.
Neither Fagin nor Sykes are presently in
custody... but the police are engaged in
searching for them throughout the city and
beyond. Sykes, according to the police...
is usually accompanied by a fierce white dog."
How about that, eh?
EXT. ROAD - DAY
BILL:
(to his dog) Come. Come back here.
We're going back to London.
I'll have people to speak to.
I'll force shiners out of Fagin,
get to France.
Damn me, we'll risk it.
(Bill Sykes is on a wanted list for murder
with reward of 15 pounds)
PEOPLE:
Who's he done in?
They say... They say it's a woman.
He's done in a woman?
EXT. DOCK - DAY
BILL:
Bullseye.
Don't you hear me when I whistle?
You gone deaf or something?
Come here. Come on.
I ain't gonna harm you. Come on.
Come on, Bullseye.
Come here.
Stop it! I'm warning you.
Let go, I ain't playing with you!
Let it go, you stinking varmint!
Bullseye!
Bullseye. Bullseye.
Get back here. Get back here.
Damn it!
INT. PUB - NIGHT
WAITRESS:
Look, it's his dog.
It's his dog!
MAN:
Here, boy. Here.
2nd MAN:
Don't go near him.
INT. POLICE OFFICE - DAY
BROWNLOW:
There is a child in danger, Inspector
Blathers... but you only seem interested
in apprehending this man, William Sykes.
Your concern should be for the safety of
the boy.
BLATHERS:
Allow me to say... this is our usual way
of doing business. My thinking is this:
If we get Sykes, we get Fagin. And if
we get Fagin--
POLICEMAN:
Look.
Sir, we found the dog.
INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
DODGER:
Are we going to sit here waiting for the
traps to find us?
FAGIN:
Shut it.
CHARLEY:
No, he's right.
We should do another flit.
(knocks)
DODGER:
The traps!
(Toby going to the window, looks outside)
DODGER:
What?
TOBY:
It's him.
Don't let him in.
TOBY:
We must.
(to Barney) Go on. Go on!
BOY:
Don't leave us in the dark.
(Toby withdraws the bolt and opens the door)
BILL:
Damn you all.
Have you nothing to say to me?
FAGIN:
Not safe for you to stop here, Bill.
BILL:
If it's safe for you, it's safe for me.
Is it...?
The body, is it buried?
(Bullseye barking)
BILL:
Dodger, let him in quick.
Dodger. Do as I say.
DODGER:
Don't come near me, you monster.
(cont'd)
(to the boys) You're my witnesses.
I'm not afraid of him.
And if they come here after him,
I'll give him up.
I'll tell them you're here.
He may kill me if he likes, but if I'm here,
I'll give him up. If he was to be boiled
alive, so I would.
BILL:
Why, you little-(Dodger dashes at Bill)
BILL:
Get off me!
Or I'll tear you limb from limb!
DODGER:
Help, he's here!
He's here. Break down the door!
Help! Come up, please!
POLICE:
That's Bill Sykes!
BILL:
Damn you all!
POLICE:
(fire a warning shot)
BILL:
(grabs Oliver)
FAGIN:
He's our bargaining tool.
BILL:
Not yours, Fagin. Mine.
FAGIN:
Bill!
(Bill, holding Oliver, gets up on the roof)
BROWBLOW:
Don't fire.
Don't fire.
BILL:
Hold your fire, men.
Hold your fire.
I'll let the boy go.
I'll let him drop.
Don't try nothing, or I'll let him go!
Get up there.
Cross, cross.
Up there. Up there.
Grab hold of there.
Grab hold of it.
INSPECTOR:
We must give chase, sir.
POLICE:
Get down.
They're getting away!
There, there. There he is!
Get him! Get him!
BILL:
Damn it!
(to Oliver) Grab it.
Grab it!
(Bill by mistake hangs himself)
EXT. BROWNLOW'S HOUSE - DAY
BEDWIN:
Oliver?
Oliver! Oliver!
Here he is, sir.
BROWNLOW:
Come along, my boy.
Mr. Grimwig has something to say to you.
Do the honors, Mrs. Bedwin.
GRIMWIG:
Now then, young man, I confess I misjudged
you. Truth to tell, I feared your
benefactor would make me eat my head.
But he's a good friend and has pardoned
me.
BROWNLOW:
And one for Oliver.
OLIVER:
Thank you, sir.
GRIMWIG:
So--
BROWNLOW:
And you too, Mrs. Bedwin.
BEDWIN:
I don't know as I should, sir.
BROWNLOW:
You must.
GRIMWIG:
So I'll take the liberty, if you'll
allow me, to salute you.
To Sam Waters.
BROWNLOW:
Oliver Twist.
GRIMWIG:
Oliver Twist. To Oliver Twist.
BROWNLOW:
Yes.
BEDWIN:
Why, Oliver.
My child, what's the matter?
Why are you so sad?
INT. PRISON - NIGHT
BROWNLOW:
Are you certain, Oliver, you wish to go
through with this?
OLOVER:
Yes, sir. Certain.
BROWNLOW:
(knocks st the door)
JAILER:
Yes?
Is the young gentleman to come too, sir?
It's not a sight for children, sir.
BROWNLOW:
It is not indeed, my friend.
But this child has seen this man in the
full career of his success and villainy.
And it is his wish, even at the cost of
some pain and fear... that he should see
him now.
JAILER:
Eighteen. Hey!
FAGIN:
Good
Good
Well
Good
Well
Take
JAILER:
(to Oliver) Don't be frightened.
Fagin.
FAGIN:
That's me. An old man, my lord.
A... A very old... old man.
JAILER:
Someone here wants to see you.
FAGIN:
Strike! Strike them all dead!
JAILER:
Easy.
FAGIN:
What right have they to butcher me?
JAILER:
Speak to him now. Quick, if you please.
For he grows worse as the time goes on.
OLIVER:
Fagin, you were kind to me.
FAGIN:
Yes, yes. I'll be kind again.
I'll be kind again. I'll be kind again.
boy.
boy, Charley.
done.
boy, Charley, well done.
done.
the boy away to bed.
(suddenly hugs Oliver)
OLIVER:
I'm not afraid.
FAGIN:
Oliver!
Let... let me whisper to you.
You remember the box, Oliver?
With my pretty things for my old age,
Oliver? It's hid a little way up the
chimney in the top front room.
It's yours, Oliver. Yours, but we must
talk.
OLIVER:
Yes, yes.
But shall we say a prayer together first?
Do. Say only one, upon your knees, with
me... and we can talk all morning.
FAGIN:
Outside. Outside.
You can say I've gone to sleep.
They'll believe you.
You can get me out. The pretty
things are yours, my dear, yours.
OLIVER:
Oh, God, forgive this wretched man.
FAGIN:
That's right, that's right.
That will help us on.
If... If... If... If I... shake and
tremble as we pass the gallows, don't...
don't... don't you mind, hurry on.
Now, now, now.
JAILER:
Have you more to say to him, sir?
OLIVER:
Nothing more.
JAILER:
You'd better leave him.
FAGIN:
Press on, press on, press on.
Press on, press on.
Softly. Softly. No, no!
It hurts! Faster, faster!
Faster, faster!
Faster, faster,
faster, faster!
(Oliver is crying. Outside the prison, a gallows is
set up, and people crowd around it)
THE END