Hellhound 22: Hello, Satan

NIGHT--INTERIOR ROADHOUSE

The place is filling up, not yet at capacity--black people out from town or in from their sharecrop farms for the Saturday night dance. Betty Mae and Ralph sit in tense silence at a table between the dance floor and the bar. Robert is on the small bandstand beside the crowded dance floor.

JOHNSON: I 'uz thinkin', peoples--gettin' sho' nuff hot an' funky in here. Time to slow on down... time for some blues.

A few voiced objections from the dancers, but most are ready for a drink and a rest; these head for the bar.

JOHNSON: Could use a drink m'self. What say, Ralph?

ANGLE ON TABLE

Curtis registers displeasure, but then waves his agreement. He gets up and heads over to the bar to help Charles with the drinks.

ANGLE ON JOHNSON

He grins gleefully at getting the boss to work for him. Now he heaps insult on injury with the song he proceeds to play.

JOHNSON: All right, brothers an' sisters. I wrote this li'l thing for a' ol' frien'...

The song is his gentle "Honeymoon Blues," with such lyrics as these:

Betty Mae, Betty Mae, you shall be my wife some day (repeat)
I wants a sweet girl that will do anythin' that I say.
Someday I will return with the marriage license in my hand (repeat)
I'm gonna' to take you for a honeymoon in some long, long distant land.

Robert's own glances make it quite clear to whom the song is dedicated.

ANGLE ON THE CROWD

Some stirring and amused whispering. A few people watch Betty Mae. Others look around for Ralph.

CLOSE ON BETTY MAE

She doesn't know how to react--embarrassment, worry about her husband's reaction, pleasure at Johnson's words. She alternately stares down at the table and sneaks glances at the crowd of listeners.

ANGLE ON THE BAR

Ralph is behind it serving some people. He seems to be ignoring the whole thing aside from a general tightening of his facial muscles and a sheen of perspiration. Charles glances at him curiously; Ralph becomes aware of this and stares his barman down. Charles turns away, busying himself with customers.

ANOTHER ANGLE

The music continues throughout. Curtis takes out a new bottle of whiskey and turns his back on his customers (and the camera), presumably opening the bottle, but doing something at the back shelf too. When he moves away, we can see the now-open can of Red Devil lye.

ANGLE DOWN ON CROWD

Ralph approaches the bandstand carrying the loosely corked bottle and a glass. Without looking at Johnson, he hands these to him, then returns to the table where his wife waits. We can't see his face, but something there makes Betty Mae drop her eyes.

CLOSE ON JOHNSON

As he pulls the cork and tosses it; he also puts the glass aside.

JOHNSON (patronizing tone): Why, thank ya, Ralph.

He takes a long pull from the bottle, then shudders at the taste.

JOHNSON: Brrr! Ralph, you keep servin' mule-kick like this, you gonn' rez-u-reck Pro'bition!

ANOTHER ANGLE ON THE ROOM

No sign from Ralph that he has heard this quip. Some laughter from the crowd as Johnson takes a small swallow, then sets the bottle at his feet and moves into his next song. Dissolve to:

CLOSE ON THE BOTTLE

Now half-empty. Johnson's feet shift awkwardly beside it.

CLOSE ON JOHNSON

He looks decidedly ill now, shifting about uncomfortably. He is sweating heavily.

JOHNSON: Folks, I'm feelin' some sickly. I'm gonn' get off here now...

ANGLE ON CROWDED DANCE FLOOR--JOHNSON'S P.O.V.

Vocal opposition to this from the happy dancers looking up at him.

WOMAN: No, Robert! You cain't quit now!

FIRST MAN: You is in the alley!

SECOND MAN: We come all way out from town!

Betty Mae can be seen still seated in the background; she appears concerned. Curtis is talking to someone else.

ANGLE ON BANDSTAND

Johnson shifts uncomfortably, but he accedes to the crowd's demand.

JOHNSON: All right, I stay... long's I kin...

He looks over at Betty Mae and Curtis, and watching them seems to decide what to play next--his touching and beautiful "Love in Vain":

I followed her to the station, with her suitcase in my hand (repeat)
Well, it's hard to tell, it's hard to tell, when all your love's in vain, all my love's in vain...
When the train lef' the station, she had two lights on behind (repeat)
Well, the blue light was my blues, and the red light was my mind...

CLOSE ON BETTY MAE

Her reaction to this despairing love song.

CLOSE ON JOHNSON

Looking sicker and sicker as he struggles to get through this number. But he finally keels over, actually fainting.

ANOTHER ANGLE

He falls off the stool, knocking the bottle over, his guitar crashing down among the dancers. Consternation and concern from them.

ANGLE ON THE TABLE

Betty Mae leaps up, but Curtis grabs her arm and holds her back. Then he slowly gets up himself. He walks toward Johnson holding Betty Mae behind him and shouldering other people aside.

CURTIS: It's all right, folks. Prob'ly jus' too much to drink. I warned him 'bout that... Some o' y'all with a car tote him in to Greenwood. Pete? Thomas?

ANOTHER ANGLE

Johnson is half-conscious, writhing on the floor. The two large men Curtis designated lift Robert to his feet. Curtis lets go of his wife, gesturing to the other onlookers.

CURTIS: Cool down now! The boy be fine. Bar's still open, an' we get somebody up to play right quick.

The men half-walk, half-carry Johnson forward. He is more alert now, and as Curtis turns away, their eyes meet.

CLOSE ON CURTIS

Sweat streaming down his face; his look is stony and slightly triumphant.

CLOSE ON JOHNSON

Pain twisting his features, he yet gives Curtis a searching look, then a slight nod and the ghost of a half-smile.

ANGLE ON THE GROUP--HAND-HELD

Now stomach cramps double Robert over, and the men half-carry him towards the door out. Betty Mae sounds a wordless moan and tries to move past Curtis, but he holds her back again; then both of them slowly follow along after the three men, walking out of the building.

NIGHT--EXTERIOR ROADHOUSE--HAND-HELD

Many people watch from the doorway of Ralph's Roadhouse as Johnson and the men move across the half-lit spaces outside. Curtis halts Betty Mae once more. Suddenly the most excruciating pains yet clutch at Johnson's insides; and like a puppet yanked aside, his reacting muscles tear him from the supporting arms and throw him onto the ground.

JOHNSON (groaning): Maee...

BETTY MAE (screaming back): Robert!

She tears herself free from Curtis and runs across to Johnson.

LOW ANGLE SEEING MOSTLY DARKNESS

In low light, writhing in pain, Johnson is on his hands and knees; his head hangs down and his silhouette against the night seems some mockery of a four-legged animal. Betty Mae drops to her knees and tries to wrap her arms around him.

BETTY MAE: Oh Robert...

But Johnson has passed beyond awareness now. He moves free of her arms, crawling away from her, away from the light from the roadhouse. Betty Mae spins around, looking for Curtis.

ANGLE ON THE ROADHOUSE

Curtis is alone in the foreground, the watching people beyond him; even Curtis looks horrified now. Betty Mae runs to confront him, striking him about the head and chest with her flailing arms. He makes no move to stop her.

BETTY MAE: You did this! You! I wasn't gone with him! I wasn't!

ANGLE ON JOHNSON

Johnson's hands-and-knees shape moves terrifyingly in the darkness, moaning and groaning its guts out. The soundtrack picks up the highest moan and echoes it electronically, building on it, creating a whole cacophony of animal-like howls. Then the film and sound fade to black and silence.

CLOSE ON HEADSTONE--ZOOM OUT

A new wooden marker reads "ROBERT JOHNSON (1911-1938)." Hands drop a bouquet of wildflowers, as the zoom out reveals the donor, Betty Mae. Robert's grave lies in a small country graveyard. (Music plays throughout this Epilog, a reprise of Johnson's "Me and the Devil," the ending portion that says, "... bury my body down by the highway side... so my ol' evil spirit can get a Greyhoun' bus an' ride.")

ANOTHER ANGLE

Betty Mae turns away and walks across the graveyard to the low wooden fence; a suitcase awaits her outside it. She climbs over the rickety barrier and stops beside her suitcase at the edge of the highway. She is silent and dry-eyed.

Sounds of a large moving vehicle on the road; she looks up.

ANGLE ON THE HIGHWAY

A Thirties-era Greyhound bus approaches; the destination sign above the windshield reads "CHICAGO." Betty Mae flags it down, and the bus stops.

ANGLE ON THE BUS--PAN

Betty Mae boards, and the bus accelerates. Camera follows its departure, holding particularly on the greyhound emblem. Soon that symbol escapes, and the bus recedes up the highway, growing smaller and smaller in the Mississippi farmlands distance. Super roll CREDITS... and END.

Hellhound 21: All My Love's in Vain

ANGLE ON THE CROSSROADS

Now signs of the town of Greenwood are visible in the distance. Johnson sits in the shade of a tree, picking out a tune on his guitar and keeping a watchful eye on the roadhouse. When Betty Mae appears and walks hesitantly toward him, he stands up.

BETTY MAE: I cain't see you, Robert. It's not right. (mournfully) Why are you here?

JOHNSON: Baby, I had to see you--I got things to say. You gone back to town, ain'cha? I walk you there.

He picks up his suitcase and starts in the direction of Greenwood. Betty Mae stands still for a moment, torn two ways, then when Robert stops and motions to her, she reluctantly moves forward, still keeping her distance from him.

ANGLE ON THE ROADHOUSE--ZOOM IN

The camera move discovers Ralph's face, inside his roadhouse, watching their departure. Tight on his face then, we see he imagines the worst: Betty Mae's old love has returned to steal her away. He shows a mixture of anguish and anger.

ANGLE ON THE TWO--MOVING

Robert and Betty Mae walk along the highway heading to Greenville. They walk in silence at first. When they do talk, they avoid each other's eyes--when one turns, the other looks away.

JOHNSON: I need you. I ain' know till now jes' how much. (after a pause) I got to ramble, it's in me. I alluz thinkin' I could run alone or wid some buddy, an' fin' woman love whensoever I want, wherever... But that kin' ain' nothin'--no better'n wind in the trees an' dust in the road. You lonelier'n if you was alone.

Betty Mae is watching him now, but Robert stares resolutely off into the distance.

JOHNSON: Bad luck doggin' me ever'where I go... I know I have done evil--I kill one man, an' I hurt some peoples, you mos' of all I 'spect.

Now Betty Mae looks away, resisting her impulse to comfort him.

CLOSE ON JOHNSON

His face as he continues.

JOHNSON: I was angry, an' I give you up that way, when what I shoulda done, I shoulda hol' on tighter. Ain' been no whole man no day since--juicin' an' foolin' aroun'. (bitter laugh) I been near drownin' in that stuff.

ANGLE ON THE TWO

Now he stops and faces her, pleading.

JOHNSON: But i ain't in that fast life now. No more, Mae. I come for you now--you what I been try'na fin' all these years.

Betty Mae has her hands over her ears.

BETTY MAE (wailing): Stop it, damn you, Robert! Stop...

She backs away from him before continuing.

BETTY MAE: I love you, Robert. I do. But it's too many years. I'm married now. You cain't jes' come here...

ANOTHER ANGLE--MOVING

Robert is thoughtful as he resumes walking; Betty Mae falls in step beside him.

JOHNSON: I ain' come here t' take you off, Mae. Onlies' thing that's set, I be playin' at Ralph's t'night. Well, tha's my life, ain' it?

BETTY MAE: Ralph loves me strong, Robert. He's a decent man, a hard-workin' man. But he won't accept anythin' between you an' me. He's proud, an' he hol's onto what's his. I won't leave him. 'Specially now...

JOHNSON: I ain't aimin' to do no one else wrong. I ain' so greedy, Mae, no more. I been playin' these blues long enough--I reckon I kin live 'em a mite longer.

Now Betty Mae grabs his arm, stops, and turns him toward her.

CLOSE ON BETTY MAE

She is almost in tears.

BETTY MAE: It's forever, baby. I been tryin' to tell you--I got Ralph's child in me now.

ANGLE ON THE TWO--FAVORING JOHNSON

His reaction: stunned amazement, followed by disappointment, and then somehow a visible acceptance. He nods, chuckles, and slowly walks on.

JOHNSON: Well, well... he's a lucky man. (quietly, almost an incantation) God bless the chile.

Now he takes Betty Mae's hand in his; she allows it now.

JOHNSON (smiling cheerfully): That's all right, mama. Nothin' bad between us. (singing a bit ridiculously) Got a house full o' chil'ren, ain' ne'er one mine...

He winks at Betty Mae, and she laughs in pleased relief. Then, hand in hand, more like old friends than ex-lovers, the two of them amble on down the highway towards Greenwood.

Hellhound 20: Someday I Will Return

DAY--EXTERIOR COUNTRY CROSSROADS

This crossing of roads (outside Greenwood, Mississippi) looks very much like the one from Johnson's earlier nightmare, though he does not appear to notice. An ancient rattletrap Ford truck wheezes to a halt, and Robert dismounts from the passenger seat, nodding his thanks to the black driver.

JOHNSON: Thank ya.

CLOSER ON THE TRUCK

As Johnson reaches into the truck for his guitar and suitcase, the driver leans over.

DRIVER: Curtis place up the way there. (winks) Good times tonight an' ev'ry Sat'dy night!

Then he waves and sputters off in the Ford. Johnson turns to survey the surrounding countryside.

WIDE ANGLE--P.O.V.--PAN

Robert's view of his surroundings: two distant farmhouses, early-spring green fields of cotton, some other plantings as well. And up the road, two hundred yards or so, set well back with its own long dirt-road entry, a large wooden structure almost like an overgrown shed--Ralph Curtis's dancehall/tavern, with proud sign "RALPH'S ROADHOUSE."

ANOTHER ANGLE

He sets out walking towards the building.

INTERIOR ROADHOUSE

Inside, it is somewhat less impressive, though rather large--a battered bar and tables in one half and a large dance floor beyond. Ralph himself is sweeping the fance area, while his assistant Charles stands behind the bar, cleaning sink and drain; a can of "RED DEVIL" lye waits on the bartop near him.

Johnson enters from outside and saunters over to Charles.

JOHNSON: Ralph Curtis?

CHARLES (waving toward the back): 'At's him yonder.

Robert deposits his suitcase by the bar and, guitar in hand, heads for Curtis.

ANGLE FAVORING CURTIS

Ralph--Betty Mae's husband--is stocky and stolid, a perennially suspicious, easily perspiring member of the incipient Negro middle class. He looks at Johnson impassively as the bluesman near him.

CURTIS: Yeah? What?

JOHNSON (showing guitar): I play--breakdowns, blues, you name it. Need a job.

CURTIS: This ain' no dime juke or two-bit crib. If you can cut it, could be we use ya.

ANOTHER ANGLE

Johnson runs through a few dazzling runs on guitar and plays the opening to "Preachin' Blues" (heard early in the film). Curtis holds up his hand.

CURTIS: So you got that part down. The rest of it is, we open Satiddy only, you stay sober and play onta dawn on a right night. Two dollars, more if you draw folks good. Well?

JOHNSON: Better'n choppin'.

CURTIS (dismissively): Right. Be here come nine... what's you' name anyway?

Robert is already walking away. He turns back with a half-smile.

JOHNSON: Johnson. Calls me "Blues Boy Bob."

ANGLE ON THE BAR

Johnson picks up his suitcase as he walks by.

JOHNSON (to Charles): So long.

Then he heads on out the door. Curtis has trailed him over to the bar.

CHARLES: Who 'zat? Look some familiar.

CURTIS: Say his name Bob Johnson.

CHARLES (thinking while he cleans mugs): Bob Johnson... Johnson... Well, sho'... 'At's Robert Johnson, from up Rob'sonville way. You heard 'is records, ain'cha? Real woman-poison too, folks say.

Curtis is already frowning and staring after Johnson.

ANGLE OUT THE SCREEN DOOR

Which shows Robert making his way down the road, Betty Mae coming towards him. She doesn't recognize him at first, but then stops in astonishment. The two ex-lovers approach each other slowly. Their initial words are not heard, as Charles continues speaking voiceover:

CHARLES' VOICE: Oh, yes, he pick 'em up an' drop 'em down. Say, Ralph, ain't you' wife come from up there?

ANOTHER ANGLE

As Curtis strides over to the screen door and yanks it open.

CURTIS (back to Charles): Shut you' mouf.

EXTERIOR ROADHOUSE

As Curtis emerges and bellows out...

CURTIS: Betty Mae!

ANGLE ON THE TWO

Now the couple is in the foreground and Curtis distant in background, gesturing from the door.

JOHNSON: ... to fin' you, Mae.

Betty Mae waves reassuringly at her husband.

BETTY MAE: I never tol' him, but...

JOHNSON: I be wait out at the crossroads. We got t' talk.

Betty Mae hurries off towards Curtis, but she looks back at Johnson, very much troubled by this encounter. He turns and saunters off.

ANOTHER ANGLE

As Betty Mae approaches her fuming husband.

CURTIS: What 'uz he sayin' at you?

BETTY MAE (not meeting his eyes as she passes): Nothing. He wanted a place in town to stay at. Why, who is he anyway?

She hurries on into the roadhouse. Curtis looks stricken by this casual lie, then somehow both angry and despairing, watching Johnson recede into the distance.

Hellhound 9: No Hiding Place

DAY--EXTERIOR ROAD--MOVING

Johnson is ambling down a dusty road in the black section of Robinsonville, carrying his old guitar and even-more-battered valise. He glances about him as he walks, nodding his head often as though pleased by familiar sights of home. Some children run out to watch him pass, and an old man peers at him as though possibly half-recognizing him. Johnson smiles and nods at any whose eye he catches, though their responses are guarded.

ANOTHER ANGLE

As Robert nears his goal, Betty Mae's house (from earlier scene). The house looks about the same, save for a newly painted front door. Robert mounts the steps and knocks. Sounds of a tapping cane and muffled words from within.

MAN'S VOICE: Jest a minute, jestaminute...

A wizened old man hobbling and leaning on his cane opens the door.

MAN: Yes, yes, whut you want?

ON THE TWO

Robert is temporarily dumbfounded.

MAN: Well?

JOHNSON: Yeah, I 'uz... lookin' for Betty Mae...? Betty Mae Hen-dricks?

MAN (shortly): Ain' nobody here name' that.

JOHNSON: But she live here, her an' her mama, Miz Jewella Hen'ricks.

MAN: No, she ain't--place's empty when I come here from Jackson. Yessuh, so look out de way...

Aa he steps back and slams the door shut.

ANOTHER ANGLE

Johnson is briefly angry, then appears puzzled as he descends the steps. He looks around for someone else to ask, but now the area seems deserted. He starts walking dejectedly back the way he came.

WOMAN'S VOICE: Hello, son!

He turns to see...

ANGLE ON YARD

A matronly woman scrubbing clothes in an old tin washtub. She comes towards him, wiping her hands on her skirt.

WOMAN: Don't I know you? (peering at him) 'Course. You Robert Johnson. Still lookin' th' image o' your Mama, Lord rest 'er.

Johnson mutters an embarrassed greeting, not recognizing this woman.

WOMAN: Elvie Brown, son. Don' you reco'leck me?

Now he does. He puts down the suitcase, removes his hat, and shakes her hand.

JOHNSON: 'Scuse me, Miz Brown. How you be doin'?

WOMAN: Well, jes' fine, Robert. Where you has been off to, all these years gone?

JOHNSON: Oh, you know. Ramblin'. Making' music. (shows his guitar)

WOMAN: Is that a fack. (touches the strings) Is you a travelin' preacher?

CLOSE ON JOHNSON

The question is so outrageous and unexpected that Johnson starts laughing.

JOHNSON (still chuckling): No ma'am, not pre-zackly. Reckon I plays jus' blues an' breakdowns.

ANGLE ON THE TWO

Now the conversation begins to run at cross purposes as each pursues his/her own subject.

WOMAN: Aww, no, Robert, don' tell me you done lose the church. Now how your mama feel, in hebem where she be?

JOHNSON (ignoring that): Where's Betty Mae gone, an' Miz Hen'ricks?

WOMAN (surprised): Lord have mercy, Miz Hendricks passed, two years now. She with your mama an' the chosen ones on th' other shore. But blues is the devil's music, son--they swoll y'up with sin.

Johnson waves his hand in frustration.

JOHNSON: Nev' mine me--where'd Mae get to?

WOMAN (getting into it now): You mus' be up-lift, Robert. You don' need that sinful music an' that shameful life--God's holy word is all you needs. Let the Holy Sperrit fill your voice--give the Lord your life! He the one you got t' go by.

Johnson looks battered now, by the sultry heat and by her words.

JOHNSON: You right, I 'spect. But where is Betty Mae?

WOMAN: Betty Mae Hendricks 'uz one chile knowed her duty to her folks an' her God. (sniffs at Johnson) Not like some could be name'. She stay by her mama to the very end an' see she be give a decent Baptist fun'ral...

Robert's patience is exhausted and his temper flaring. He slings the hat he's been holding off to one side and shout-pleads with her.

JOHNSON: God dam, Miz Brown--where is Betty Mae gone?

WOMAN (calm but indignant, drawing herself up): Don't you be cussin' at me, Robert Johnson--I ain' no street woman. Cussin' and cryin' won't he'p you none. Betty Mae done marry herse'f a nice, fine Christian gentaman name' Ralph Curtis, come by down Greenwood way.

ANOTHER ANGLE

Johnson looks shattered by this news; each of her ensuing words strikes him like a blow, backing him up and away from her.

WOMAN (triumphant): They done move back south after the weddin'. A real church weddin', Robert Johnson!

Backing away, clutching at his neckbag, he stumbles over the valise and almost falls. Dazed and hurting, his hat and valise forgotten, he turns and hurries away from this determined harpy; he is practically running, guitar flapping on his back. A stray hound barks and bounds after him.

ANOTHER ANGLE--MOVING

Looking back at the diminishing woman as she shouts a further warning:

WOMAN: You kin run, run to the rock! But the rock cry out, "No hidin' place!" Every-body got hisself a date!

DAY--EXTERIOR COTTONFIELD

Camera starts close on the "LUBBELL PLANTATION" sign, then gradually (as the scene proceeds) rises up and away to a high and wide angle, looking down on the vast field. The year's tending is over--the plants have been chopped, the rows are empty now. Staggering across these hilly rows comes Johnson, his hat and valise gone forever, the guitar bumping wildly back and forth. He is thoroughly drunk, with a half-empty bottle in his hand from which he drinks as he stumbles along, shout-singing loudly between gulps a few lines from his song called "Rambling on My Mind".

JOHNSON: I got ramblin', I got ramblin' all on my mind... I got mean things, I got mean things on my mind... Li'l girl, li'l girl, I will never forgive you no more...

All the while he is wandering across the field, coming towards the rising camera. Finally he trips and goes sprawling headlong in the dirt. The guitar clangs loudly and he rolls over, shoving it aside. On his back, not rising, lying in the middle of this vast and barren field, Johnson bellows out one last line from the song:

JOHNSON: I got the blues for Miss So-an'-So, an' the chile's got the blues about me...

((END OF SECTION 2))