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))

Hellhound 5: Been Here and Gone

((This fifth part leads to the end of Section 1 of Hellhound. Four more sections of similar length remain, all to be offered here gradually.))

NIGHT--EXTERIOR HOUSE

The front steps of Betty Mae's house in Robinsonville, Mississippi. Johnson climbs the steps and gestures for Johnny to follow him.

JOHNNY: You don' want me--y'all ain't see each other yet.

JOHNSON: Say hello at least.

He then raps softly on the door, guitar strapped across his back as usual. After a moment, he raps again. The door opens this time, and the light from within frames Betty Mae in the doorway. She is barefoot and wearing a plain cotton dress, yet radiantly beautiful. Johnson becomes slightly hesitant before her.

BETTY MAE (not particularly pleased to see him): Oh. Hello.

JOHNSON: Hello, Mae.

In silence they look at each other for a moment. Then Robert remembers his companion.

JOHNSON: Here's my frien' Johnny. We been trav'lin' some.

BETTY MAE (shyly): Hello, Johnny.

Johnny makes another of his bows.

JOHNNY: Please' to meet your' quaintance.

Another painful pause, into which Johnny suddenly blurts:

JOHNNY: Len' me your git-tar, Robert, an' I go see the folks.

In silence Johnson hands it over, then Johnny waves his farewell and hustles away from the tension that's developed.

CLOSER ON THE TWO

Betty Mae challenges Johnson.

BETTY MAE: Well, somethin' you want here?

JOHNSON: What you mean? (clears his throat) I come to visit--you're my gal, ain' cha?

BETTY MAE (cynical sniff): Don't know where you get that idea. Nobody keepin' me.

JOHNSON: Aww, now, don' take on so. You know I ain' mean nothin' low-down. I jus' want t' see ya, been so long. Lookit, can't I come in?

BETTY MAE (crosses her arms): If you think I want you comin' 'round...

But she doesn't get to finish, interrupted suddenly by a woman's voice from deeper in the house.

WOMAN'S VOICE: Betty Mae? Who's out there?

The young woman glares at Robert.

BETTY MAE: Now see what you done. (turns to call inside) It's all right, Mama. It's just Robert Johnson.

Who uses the opportunity to slip past her and into the house.

INTERIOR FRONT ROOM

The furnishings are sparse, but homey, well-cared for. Betty Mae spins around angrily, but Johnson is already headed over to the sickly elderly woman hobbling out from a back bedroom.

JOHNSON: Hi, Miz Hen'ricks. How you feelin' now.

MRS. HENDRICKS: Don't y'all fret none about me. Good t' see y' again, son. (already hobbling back to her room) Betty Mae, give Robert some o' that sweet tea you made up. An' don't stay up too late...

She closes the bedroom door behind her.

ANOTHER ANGLE

Betty Mae is not interested in socializing.

BETTY MAE: March yourself right out o' here, Mister Johnson.

Robert moves closer to try some sweet-talk.

JOHNSON: Don' be salty, Mae honey. I jes' want us close like we useta be.

She backs away from him.

BETTY MAE: You keep back now. You crazy if you think you go runnin' off all year, then come back to find me waitin', arms out an' porch light on!

Robert follows on after her, smiling more confidently now. Betty Mae backs into the front door, which closes, and he corners her there.

CLOSE ON THE TWO

Robert closes in.

JOHNSON: Hey, li'l gal, I'm a musicianer. I gots t' go where the peoples an' the money is, ain't I?

He puts his arms around her; she doesn't struggle any more, but she doesn't yield to him either.

JOHNSON: But that don't mean I ain't comin' home when I go. Hell, I cain't leave you, you' my brownie.

BETTY MAE: Don't you sweet-talk me, Robert Johnson. I know you courtin' gals in every town in Miss'ippi an' Arkansaw combine'. You some damfool June bug, flittin' from door t' door, an' havin' to fight you' way out after.

Robert's grin is a bit sheepish.

JOHNSON: Don' b'lieve what folks talk, Mae. You th' onliest gal I care 'bout.

ANOTHER ANGLE

Robert pulls her, still resisting, over to the wornout couch and forcibly sits her down beside him. He puts his arm around her shoulders but she shrugs it off.

BETTY MAE: Take me with you then.

With his unwanted hand Robert touches her hair, and she turns to look him in the eyes, still challenging him.

CLOSE ON BETTY MAE

As Robert's answer comes.

JOHNSON: You gonn' leave yo' Mama an' come on the road?

Betty Mae's hard look crumples--she is left defeated and miserable.

BETTY MAE: Oh you smooth-talkin' devil. I can't leave her sick, an' damn you know it!

Johnson leans over and kisses her lips and she responds just slightly.

ANOTHER ANGLE

He leans back and pulls her against his shoulder with the arm around her.

JOHNSON: Well, ever'thin' be all right after while.

The two sit there in frustrated but companionable silence for a moment.

JOHNSON: I 'most forgot... (reaches into his shirt pocket) I tote this for you...

He opens his closed palm to reveal the lipstick left behind by the vamp who took his money. Betty Mae's reaction is cautious still, but warming to him.

BETTY MAE: For me? For sure?

She pulls off the top and twists the bright-red lipstick up.

JOHNSON (grinning devilishly): You' sweet lips don' need no color, but i 'uz thinkin' you might like 'um anyways.

ANGLE ON MIRROR

Betty Mae gets up and goes over to a period mirror hanging on the wall. She quickly applies a layer of red to her lips, while we see Johnson reflected as he leans back, looking satisfied with himself. She finishes and spins around to face him.

BETTY MAE: What you think? Is it too red?

JOHNSON: Not much. Come on back here...

For the first time a warm and loving smile lights up her face as she flirtatiously shakes her head "No." Then she busies herself with the gift lipstick, recapping it, turning it over in her hand, etc. Johnson is rising to come to her as she suddenly freezes, staring at the bottom of the tube.

INSERT--CLOSE ON LIPSTICK

Scratched into the base in ragged letters is a name: "Ida Hill."

CONTINUING PREVIOUS SHOT

As Betty Mae suddenly hurls the tube across the room at Johnson. It hits him in the chest, and he fumbles and catches it as it falls.

JOHNSON: What in hell?

BETTY MAE: Go on, take it an' get out!

ANOTHER ANGLE

Johnson starts toward her holding the lipstick.

JOHNSON: What is it, Mae--what I do?

She looks around and grabs up a convenient flatiron, holding it threateningly. And she swipes at her mouth with her free hand.

BETTY MAE: I ain't none o' your fancy women, Robert Johnson! You tote that, that Satan stick on back to her you got it off!

Now he too examines the tube and finds the telltale scratchings. Embarrassed at being caught out, he still tries to smooth things over, moving toward Betty Mae.

JOHNSON: Now, Mae, don't get het up.

But he pauses because she has burst into tears, of mortification and rage. He reaches for her awkwardly, but she leaps back and waves that iron.

JOHNSON (serious now): She 'uz nobody--some gal I met up the way. I come away wi' that, an' I truly did think you 'ud like it.

BETTY MAE (sobbing): It don't even matter. She's just one of 'em. I know. I know you--you cain't even help how you are. The blues in you, Robert--I cain't live wi' that, no more. Nossir, I know you. Are you gonn' give up your music?

She knows the answer to this already, and Robert can say nothing.

BETTY MAE: No, you won't do it. An' I won't sit home no more, tendin' Mama and waitin' for you to come by me sometime.

Johnson tries to approach her again.

JOHNSON: You don' mean it. We cain't jes' break off.

BETTY MAE (anger triumphing over her tears): Oh yes I do mean it!

When Johnson reaches to take her in his arms, she strikes his left wrist and forearm, not a damaging blow but a source of pain and a blow to his pride.

JOHNSON: Damn it, Mae!

He knocks the iron from her hand, grabs her arms with both of his, and shakes her violently, on and on, shouting all the while.

JOHNSON: Damn you, woman! I wants you by my side somewheres it kin last. But not yet! I ain't gonn' sit here, live in the gallion, spen' my life choppin' cotton, bowin' and scrapin' to the Man! I'm gonn' be somebody--I'm gonn' play music an' live fine! An' if you ain't waitin', I'm gone on widout cha!

Betty Mae has listened to all this without letting it touch her--continuing to try to pull free from his grasp. Now Johnson runs down; the emotion leaves him. As he loosens his grip on her, she yanks away and tumbles to the floor.

ANGLE ON THE TWO, FRONT DOOR IN BG

The racket has awakened Betty Mae's mother in the bedroom. She calls out in fear, and keeps moaning and keening throughout the rest of the scene.

MRS. HENDRICK'S VOICE: Betty Mae? Betty Mae! What is that? Oh Lordee... (etc.)

Johnson is contrite and bends down to help the young woman back to her feet.

JOHNSON: Honey, I ain't mean to knock you down. I...

But she shrinks away from his touch.

BETTY MAE (hysterical): Keep your hands off me! Get out of this house an' dont you never come back! (glaring up at him) I don' need you, Robert...

Johnson straightens up, looks at her in anguish and remorse but unyielding pride too. Then he nods his acceptance, turns on his heel, and stalks out the door, leaving it open behind him. As he recedes into the darkness, Betty Mae sinks lower, still sobbing, her anger and adrenaline spent.


((END OF SECTION 1))