The Scoundrel (1935 film)

The Scoundrel is a 1935 film about a ruthless, cynical, hated publisher who is killed in a plane crash, doomed to be a restless spirit for being unloved. A heavenly power gives him a month on Earth to find one person to shed a tear for him before his fate is sealed. Directed and written by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur. Turned back from the gates of hell...a dead man roaming the streets of Manhattan...seeking love..begging for tears! Anthony Mallare I'm never nice. She's the only woman I've ever met who seems shallower and more superficial than I am. It'll be a perfect match: two empty paper bags, belaboring each other. I don't approve of child labor as a rule, but so much depends on the child. I never do anything, but exist - in my own way and not theirs. Nothing I touch ever blooms. I'm awful sorry if I annoyed you. I came here to find something. Something that none of you have. There's only one I know who has it. I seem to have the knack for making people unhappy. You know, I can think of at least nine who are unhappy at this moment because I exist. Yet, I've done nothing. Would you say, my dear, that Mr. Decker was madly in love with you? [Cora nods her head] That settles it. I'm not. I never will be. The most I can offer you is one month's diversion and six months of farewell. God, it was no use - my coming back. No use. I have no way to ask for tears. I am as I was - unchanged, unreturned. I want no mercy. I ask for none for myself. But I do ask for them. Give them back what I took. I had hoped that if you forgave me, that foolish, generous heart of yours might cry for me. I know that's silly. I know there are no eyes to weep for me but my own. But, you see, there's a legend that those who die unmourned never find rest. Never. Never. Never. Out of the hell I go to, hear my first prayer. God, show your face in this room. Let them have the peace that I can never hope. Cora Moore You look so evil with a glass in your hand. [upon reading about Mallare's plane crash] I've just learned that there IS a God! Vanderveer Veyden He kept staring at me as I questioned him, with an utterly mad look in his eyes. And after I'd done with my congratulations and amenities, he whispered very gently, "Veyden, I loathe you," and skittered off into the night. I'm glad to say that since you withdrew your protection, she's no longer tolerated by her betters. Nonsense! We are very fond of Mr. Mallare. He has the charming faculty of making everybody who knows him feel noble and unselfish, by comparison. Maurice Stern Pity - that most vile of virtues - has never been known to you. Why be naïve, darling? Mallare is not a man. He's an education. He isn't part of life. He's something in print - a sort of humorless superior smirk of adjectives. You make the mistake of loving him instead of admiring him. Other Rothenstien: Is this gathering going to degenerate into another discussion of Mr. Mallare's comings and goings, or may I continue with my poetry?... The whiteness of your neck is like the sound of silver bells. Mrs. Rolinson: He enclosed a note with my royalty check, referring to Slezak's suicide as a foolish effort to call attention to his bad writing. Dialogue Anthony Mallare: I'm sorry I'm so late, but I stopped to throw snowballs at some little boys. Cora Moore: Tony, don't take off your things - I want to go. Anthony Mallare: Where? Cora Moore: We could walk in the park. Anthony Mallare: On Sunday? It's full of butlers. Anthony Mallare: You contemptible fools. Sitting snug and dry in your taxidermist window. Self-satisfied with your crackling egos, looking at life with beady eyes. Julia Vivian: What's the matter with you? Vanderveer Veyden: Tony, are you ill? Anthony Mallare: No. Not anymore. But you are. You're sick - all of you. Little scribblers. Sick with your greedy pursuit of trifles. Sick with making life small. Maggie: Tony, pull yourself together. We're your friends. Anthony Mallare: Quite right. I was one of you. I wore that same smirk that's in all your faces. That same cheap sneer of God and man. Vanderveer Veyden: He's mad. Anthony Mallare: No, I'm horribly sane. Too sane to be able to make myself understood by you.. But wait. Wait till the wind blows over you and the night comes down on your head. Wait till you want rest. Anthony Mallare: Cora, get off your knees. Tears always make me crueler than I really am. I've never lied to you. I have loved you, but it's over. It's over. Cora Moore: No, no. Anthony Mallare: Yes. Cora Moore: Tony, dear, I'm begging. I'll die if you leave me. Anthony Mallare: Exactly. And I won't. Anthony Mallare: How I wish that I was as nice as you think I am. Cora Moore: You are. Cora Moore: Why did you lie to her? It's painful to be lied to. Anthony Mallare: My dear, women shoot you or drag you into court if you refuse to lie to them and pretend that you still love them. Maggie: What is it, Tony? What do you want? Anthony Mallare: Tears. Tears. A heart that can cry. Anthony Mallare: I've been wanting you to forgive me. Cora Moore: Oh, I don't want to listen to you. Anthony Mallare: I didn't mean to do wrong. But evil never knows itself. And it seems that I'm evil. Paul Decker: And now everything is going to be all sweet and smoothed out, eh? Cast Noël Coward - Anthony Mallare Julie Haydon - Cora Moore Stanley Ridges - Paul Decker Martha Sleeper - Julia Vivian Ernest Cossart - Jimmy Clay Alexander Woollcott - Vanderveer Veyden Rosita Moreno - Carlotta Eduardo Ciannelli - Maurice Stern Lionel Stander - Rothenstien O. Z. Whitehead - Calhoun Harry Davenport - Slezack Burgess Meredith - Bum (uncredited) External links 0026970 Category:1935 American films Category:American drama films Category:Film noir Category:Films whose writers won Best Story Academy Award Category:Films directed by Ben Hecht