第4章 John Ford's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore-2

And, perhaps, had it been possible, she would have learned to love the Ministers gentle son before she married him, but, not only was it impossible, she also carried within her the child that meant she must be married quickly. INTERIOR. CHURCH. DAY Harmonium. Father and Johnny by the altar. Johnny white, strained; father stoical.

Ministers wife thin-lipped, furious. Ministers son and Annie-Belle, in simple white cotton wedding-dress, join hands. MINISTER: Do you take this woman. . . (Close up) Ministers sons hand slipping wedding ring on to Annie-Belles finger. INTERIOR. BARN. NIGHT Fiddle and banjo old-time music.

Vigorous square dance going on; bride and groom lead. Father at table, glass in hand. Johnny, beside him, reaching for bottle. Bride and groom come together at end of dance; groom kisses brides cheek. She laughs. (Close up) Annie-Belle looking shyly up at the Ministers son. The dance parts them again; as Annie-Belle is handed down the row of men, she staggers and faints.

Consternation. Ministers son and Johnny both run towards her. Johnny lifts her up in his arms, her head on his shoulder. Eyes opening. Ministers son reaches out for her. Johnny lets him take hold of her. She gazes after Johnny beseechingly as he disappears among the crowd. Silence swallowed up the music of the fiddle and the banjo; Death with his hair in braids spread out the sheets on the marriage bed.

INTERIOR. MINISTERS HOUSE. BEDROOM. NIGHT Annie-Belle in bed, in a white nightgown, clutching the pillow, weeping. Ministers son, bare back, sitting on side of bed with his back to camera, head in hands. In the morning, her new mother-in-law heard her vomiting into the chamber-pot and, in spite of her sons protests, stripped Annie-Belle and subjected her to a midwifes inspection. She judged her three months gone, or more. She dragged the girl round the room by the hair, slapped her, punched her, kicked her, but Annie-Belle would not tell the fathers name, only promised, swore on the grave of her dead mother, that she would be a good girl in future. The young bridegroom was too bewildered by this turn of events to have an opinion about it; only, to his vague surprise, he knew he still loved the girl although she carried another mans child.

"Bitch! Whore!" said the Ministers wife and struck Annie-Belle a blow across the mouth that started her nose bleeding. "Now, stop that, Mother," said the gentle son. "Cant you see she aint well?" The terrible day drew to its end. The mother-in-law would have thrown Annie-Bell out on the street, but the boy pleaded for her, and the Minister, praying for guidance, found himself opening the Bible at the parable of the woman taken in adultery and meditated well upon it.

"Only tell me the name of the father," her young husband said to Annie-Belle. "Better you dont know it," she said. Then she lied: "Hes gone, now; gone out west." "Was it --?" naming one or two. "You never knew him. He came by the ranch on his way out west."

Then she burst out crying again, and he took her in his arms. "It will be all over town," said the mother-in-law. "That girl made a fool of you!" She slammed the dishes on the table and would have made the girl eat out the back door, but the young husband laid her a place at table with his own hand and led her in and sat her down in spite of his mothers black looks. They bowed their heads for grace. Surely, the Minister thought, seeing his boy cut bread for Annie-Belle and lay it on her plate, my son is a saint. He began to fear for him.

"I wont do anything unless you want," her husband said in the dark after the candle went out. The straw with which the mattress was stuffed rustled beneath her as she turned away from him. INTERIOR. FARMHOUSE KITCHEN. NIGHT Johnny comes in from outside, looks at father asleep in rocking-chair.

Picks up some discarded garment of Annie-Belles from the back of a chair, buries face in it. Shoulders shake. Opens cupboard, takes out bottle. Uncorks with teeth. Drinks. Bottle in hand, goes out on porch. EXTERIOR. PRAIRIE. NIGHT (Johnnys point of view) Moon rising over prairie: the vast, the elegiac plain. "Landscape Theme" rises.

INTERIOR. MINISTERS SONS ROOM. NIGHT Annie-Belle and Ministers son in bed. Moonlight through the curtains. Both lie there, open-eyed. Rustle of mattress. ANNIE-BELLE: You awake? Ministers son moves away from her. ANNIE-BELLE: Reckon I never properly knowed no young man before. . . MINISTERS SON: What about -- ANNIE-BELLE (shrugging the question off): Oh. . . Ministers son moves towards her. For she did not consider her brother in this new category of "young men"; he was herself. So she and her husband slept in one anothers arms, that night, although they did nothing else for she was scared it might harm the baby and he was so full of pain and glory it was scarcely to be borne, it was already enough, or too much, holding her tight, in his terrible innocence. It was not so much that she was pliant. Only, fearing the worst, it turned out that the worst had already happened; her sin found her out, or, rather, she found out she had sinned only when he offered his forgiveness, and, from her repentance, a new Annie-Belle sprang up, for whom the past did not exist. She would have said to him: "It did not signify, my darling; I only did it with my brother, we were alone together under the vast sky that made us scared and so we clung together and what happened, happened." But she knew she must not say that, that the most natural love of all was just precisely the one she must not acknowledge. To lie down on the prairie with a passing stranger was one thing. To lie down with her fathers son was another. So she kept silent. And when she looked at her husband, she saw, not herself, but someone who might, in time, grow even more precious. The next night, in spite of the baby, they did it, and his mother wanted to murder her and refused to get the breakfast for this prostitute, but Annie-Belle served them, put on an apron, cut the ham and cooked it, then scrubbed the floor with such humility, such evidence of gratitude that the older woman kept her mouth shut, her narrow lips tight as a trap, but she kept them shut for if there was one thing she feared, it was the atrocious gentleness of her menfolk. And. So. Johnny came to the town, hungering after her; the gates of Paradise slammed shut in his face. He haunted the backyard of the Ministers house, hid in the sweetbrier, watched the candle in their room go out and still he could not imagine it, that she might do it with another man. But. She did. At the store, all gossip ceased when she came in; all eyes turned towards Her. The old men chewing tobacco spat brown streams when she walked past. The womens faces veiled with disapproval. She was so young, so unaccustomed to people. They talked, her husband and she; they would go, just go, out west, still further, west as far as the place where the ocean Starts again, perhaps. With his schooling, he could get some clerking job or other. She would bear her child and he would love it. Then she would bear their children. "Yes," she said. "We shall do that," she said. EXTERIOR. FARMHOUSE. DAY Annie-Belle drives up in trap. Johnny comes out on porch, in shirt-sleeves, bottle in hand. Takes her reins. But she doesnt get down from the trap. ANNIE-BELLE: Wheres Daddy? Johnny gestures towards the prairie. ANNIE-BELLE (not looking at Johnny): Got something to tell him. (Close up) Johnny. JOHNNY: Aint you got nothing to tell me? (Close up) Annie-Belle. ANNIE-BELLE: Reckon I aint. (Close up) Johnny. JOHNNY: Get down and visit a while, at least. (Close up) Annie-Belle. ANNIE-BELLE: Cant hardly spare the time. (Close up) Johnny and Annie-Belle. JOHNNY: Got to scurry back, get your husbands dinner, is that it? ANNIE-BELLE: Johnny. . . why havent you come to church since I got married, Johnny? Johnny shrugs, turns away. EXTERIOR. FARMHOUSE. DAY Annie-Belle gets down from trap, follows Johnny towards farmhouse. ANNIE-BELLE: Oh, Johnny, you knowed we did wrong. Johnny walks towards farmhouse. ANNIE-BELLE: I count myself fortunate to have found forgiveness. JOHNNY: What are you going to tell Daddy? ANNIE-BELLE: Im going out west. Giovanni: What, changd so soon! hath your new sprightly lord Found out a trick in night-games more than we Could know in our simplicity? -- Ha! ist so? Or does the fit come on you, to prove treacherous To your past vows and oaths? Annabella: Why should you jest At my calamity. EXTERIOR. FARMHOUSE. DAY JOHNNY: Out west? Annie-Belle nods, JOHNNY: By yourself? Annie-Belle shakes her head. JOHNNY: With him? Annie-Belle nods. Johnny puts hand on porch rail, bends forward, hiding his face. ANNIE-BELLE: It is for the best. She puts her hand on his shoulder. He reaches out for her. She extricates herself. His hand, holding bottle; contents of bottle run out on grass. ANNIE-BELLE: It was wrong, what we did. JOHNNY: What about . . . ANNIE-BELLE: It shouldnt ever have been made, poor little thing. You wont never see it. Forget everything. Youll find yourself a woman, youll marry. Johnny reaches out and clasps her roughly to him. "No," she said; "never. No." And fought and bit and scratched: "Never! Its wrong. Its a sin." But, worse than that, she said: "I dont want to," and she meant it, she knew she must not or else her new life, that lay before her, now, with the radiant simplicity of a childs drawing of a house, would be utterly destroyed. So she got free of him and ran to the buggy and drove back lickety-split to town, beating the pony round the head with the whip. Accompanied by a black trunk like a coffin, the Minister and his wife drove with them to a railhead such as you have often seen on the movies -- the same telegraph office, the same water-tower, the same old man with the green eyeshade selling tickets. Autumn was coming on. Annie-Belle could no longer conceal her pregnancy, out it stuck; her mother-in-law could not speak to her directly but addressed remarks through the Minister, who compensated for his wifes contempt by showing Annie-Belle all the honour due to a repentant sinner. She wore a yellow ribbon. Her hair was long and yellow. The repentant harlot has the surprised look of a pregnant virgin. She is pale. The pregnancy does not go well. She vomits all morning. She bleeds a little. Her husband holds her hand tight. Her father came last night to say goodbye to her; he looks older. He does not take care of himself. That Johnny did not come set the tongues wagging; the gossip is, he refuses to set eyes on his sister in her disgrace. That seems the only thing to explain his attitude. All know he takes no interest in girls himself. "Bless you, children," says the Minister. With that troubling air of incipient sainthood, the young husband settles his wife down on the trunk and tucks a rug round her legs for a snappy wind drives dust down the railroad track and the hills are October mauve and brown. In the distance, the train whistle blows, that haunting sound, blowing across endless distance, the sound that underlines the distance. EXTERIOR. FARMHOUSE. DAY Johnny mounts horse. Slings rifle over shoulder. Kicks horses sides. EXTERIOR. RAILROAD. DAY Train whistle. Burst of smoke. Engine pulling train across prairie. EXTERIOR. PRAIRIE. DAY Johnny galloping down track. EXTERIOR. RAILROAD. DAY Train wheels turning. EXTERIOR. PRAIRIE. DAY Hooves churning dust. EXTERIOR. STATION. DAY MINISTERS WIFE: Now, you take care of yourself, you hear? And -- (but she cant bring herself to say it). MINISTER: Be sure to tell us about the baby as soon as it comes. (Close up) Annie-Belle smiling gratefully. Train whistle. And see them, now, as if posing for the photographer, the young man and the pregnant woman, sitting on a trunk, waiting to be transported onwards, away, elsewhere, she with the future in her belly. EXTERIOR. STATION. DAY Station master comes out of ticket-office. STATION MASTER: Here she comes! (Long shot) Engine appearing round bend. EXTERIOR. STATION. DAY Johnny tethers his horse. ANNIE-BELLE: Why, Johnny, youve come to say goodbye after all! (Close up) Johnny, racked with emotion. JOHNNY: He shant have you. Hell never have you. Heres where you belong, with me. Out here. Giovanni: Thus die, and die by me, and by my hand! Revenge is mine; honour doth love command! Annabella: Oh, brother, by your hand! EXTERIOR. STATION. DAY ANNIE-BELLE: Dont shoot -- think of the baby! Dont -- MINISTERS SON: Oh, my God -- Bang, bang, bang. Thinking to protect his wife, the young husband threw his arms around her and so he died, by a split second, before the second bullet pierced her and both fell to the ground as the engine wheezed to a halt and passengers came tumbling off to see what Wild West antics were being played out while the parents stood and stared and did not believe, did not believe. Seeing some life left in his sister, Johnny sank to his knees beside her and her eyes opened up and, perhaps, she saw him, for she said: Annabella: Brother, unkind, unkind. . . So that Death would be well satisfied, Johnny then put the barrel of the rifle into his mouth and pulled the trigger. EXTERIOR. STATION. DAY (Crane shot) The three bodies, the Minister comforting his wife, the passengers crowding off the train in order to look at the catastrophe. The "Love Theme" rises over a pan of the prairie under the vast sky, the green breast of the continent, the earth, beloved, cruel, unkind. NOTE: The Old World John Ford made Giovanni cut out Annabellas heart and carry it on stage; the stage direction reads: Enter Giovanni, with a heart upon his dagger. The New World John Ford would have no means of representing this scene on celluloid, although it is irresistibly reminiscent of the ritual tortures practised by the Indians who lived here before.