Fahrenheit 451 Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Fahrenheit 451 script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the François Truffaut movie based on the Ray Bradbury novel.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Fahrenheit 451. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!

Fahrenheit 451 Script


  

  

 

                   

An Enterprise Vineyard

production.



 

                   

Oskar Werner,

Julie Christie...



 

                   

In

Fahrenheit 451



 

                   

Co-starring: Cyril Cusack,

Anton Diffring,



 

                   

Jeremy Spenser,

Bee Duffeil, Alex Scott.



 

                   

Screenplay by François Truffaut

and Jean-Louis Richard.



 

                   

From a novel

by Ray Bradbury.



 

                   

Music by Bernard Herman.



 

                   

Director of Photography:

Nicholas Rowe.



  

                   

Colour by Technicolor.



  

                   

Art Director:

Sid Caine.



  

                   

Production and Costume Design

Consultant: Tony Walton.



  

                   

Film Editor:

Thom Noble.



  

                   

Associate Producer:

Mickey Delamar.



  

                   

Produced by Lewis M. Allen.



  

                   

Directed by François Truffaut.



  

                   

Hello.



  

                   

- Get out! Hurry!

- What? Who is that?



  

                   

Get moving! For god's

sake, get out of there!



  

                   

Hello?



  

                   

Montag, here.



  

                   

Well... What sort

were these then, Montag?



  

                   

I didn't really look, sir.

A little bit of everything.



  

                   

- Novels, biographies, adventure stories.

- Oh, routine, eh?



  

                   

Why will they do it?

It's sheer perversity.



  

                   

By the way...



  

                   

What does Montag do

with his day off duty?



  

                   

Not very much, sir.

Mow the lawn.



  

                   

And what if the law

forbids that?



  

                   

Just watch it grow, sir.



  

                   

Uh-huh.

Good.



  

                   

Good. Montag might be hearing

some exciting news in a day or two.



  

                   

Benedict won't be with us

very much longer,



  

                   

- And Montag's name has been mentioned.

- Promotion, sir?



  

                   

I trust that the thought

makes Montag happy.



  

                   

I think we're neighbours.

I live near block    .



  

                   

Isn't that where you live? Yes, I do.



  

                   

Do you know we make the same

trip together almost every day?



  

                   

Do we?

Hmm.



  

                   

That's why

I thought to myself,



  

                   

Well, we ought

to talk to each other.



  

                   

Do you mind?

Me talking, I mean.



  

                   

No, no, go ahead.

Talk.



  

                   

I can't promise to think of

anything to answer though.



  

                   

Don't worry about that.



  

                   

Once I get started,

nothing can stop me.



  

                   

My uncle says I am

a veritable well of words.



  

                   

Has this uncle of yours ever warned

you never to speak to strangers?



  

                   

No. He did say once if

anyone asked how old I was...



  

                   

To say I was    years old

and light in the head.



  

                   

- They always go together.

- "Light in the head"?



  

                   

Mmm.

Loopy. Crazy.



  

                   

Anyway,

you don't frighten me.



  

                   

- Why should I?

- No reason really.



  

                   

The uniform, I suppose.



  

                   

Most people are...

Frightened,



  

                   

- frightened of firemen.

- This is my stop now.



  

                   

Mine too.



  

                   

- Are you an officer?

- Oh, no. Not yet.



  

                   

An officer has to...

I'm going to be promoted soon.



  

                   

Even with my eyes closed, I

could tell what you do for a job.



  

                   

- Because of the smell of kerosene?

- Huh.



  

                   

Quite a scent,

isn't it?



  

                   

My wife doesn't like it very

much. She says it lingers.



  

                   

I don't mind. I think

of it as a... Perfume.



  

                   

- Perfume?

- Yes, a perfume, like any other.



  

                   

I don't think I've seen

your wife. What's she like?



  

                   

She's rather like you,

except her hair is long.



  

                   

- Rather like me?

- Quite like you.



  

                   

Tell me, that number

you all wear, what's it mean?



  

                   

Oh, Fahrenheit 451



  

                   

Why     rather than

    or    ?



  

                   

Fahrenheit  451 is the

temperature at which...



  

                   

book paper catches fire

and starts to burn.



  

                   

I'd like to ask you something

else, only I don't really dare.



  

                   

Go ahead.



  

                   

Is it true...



  

                   

that a long time ago...



  

                   

firemen used to put out fires

and not burn books?



  

                   

Really, your uncle is right.

You are light in the head.



  

                   

"Put fires out"?

Who told you that?



  

                   

- I don't know. Someone. But is it true?

- What a strange idea.



  

                   

- Houses have always been fireproof.

- Ours isn't.



  

                   

Well, then, it should be

condemned one of these days.



  

                   

It has to be destroyed,

and you will have to move...



  

                   

to a house that is fireproof.



  

                   

Too bad.



  

                   

Tell me,

why do you burn books?



  

                   

What?



  

                   

Well, it's a job

like any other.



  

                   

Good work with lots

of variety.



  

                   

Monday, we burn Miller; Tuesday,

Tolstoy; Wednesday, Walt Whitman;



  

                   

Friday, Faulkner; and Saturday

and Sunday, Schopenhauer and Sartre.



  

                   

"We burn them to ashes

and then burn the ashes."



  

                   

That's our official motto.

You don't like books then?



  

                   

- Do you like the rain?

- Yes, I adore it.



  

                   

Books are just

so much... rubbish.



  

                   

They have no interest.



  

                   

Then why do some people still read

them although it's so dangerous?



   

                   

Precisely because

it is forbidden.



   

                   

Why is it forbidden?



   

                   

Because it makes

people unhappy.



   

                   

Do you really

believe that?



   

                   

Oh, yes. Books

disturb people.



   

                   

They make them

antisocial.



   

                   

Do you think

I'm antisocial?



   

                   

Why do you ask?



   

                   

Well...

I'm a teacher.



   

                   

Well, not quite.

I'm still on probation.



   

                   

This afternoon

the analyst called me in,



   

                   

And I don't think

I said the right things.



   

                   

I'm not at all happy

about my answers.



   

                   

That's probably why I've been so

rude to you. Have I been annoying you?



   

                   

Oh, no,

not at all.



   

                   

In fact, I was questioned

this afternoon as well.



   

                   

I didn't do

too well either.



   

                   

This is where I live.



   

                   

You see?

This is my house.



   

                   

- One more question.

- Another one?



   

                   

- Just a tiny one.

- What is it?



   

                   

Do you ever read

the books you burn?



   

                   

Why should I? First,

I'm not interested.



   

                   

Second, I've better things

to do. Third, it is forbidden.



   

                   

Of course.



   

                   

- You happy?

- What?



   

                   

Of course I'm happy.



   

                   

...so you can protect

yourself on the streets.



   

                   

The art of self-defence,

and of attack on occasions,



   

                   

may also come in handy

in the home, cousins.



   

                   

If you watch carefully,

you will see...



   

                   

how a woman can use a man's

superior weight to her own advantage.



   

                   

Did you see that?



   

                   

Now let's watch that

once again normally.



   

                   

And now

in slow motion.



   

                   

Watch it carefully

again, cousins.



   

                   

I'm going to be promoted.



   

                   

Are you listening, Linda?



   

                   

Oh, that's marvellous,

Montag.



   

                   

The captain told me

while we were out on a call.



   

                   

What did you say?



   

                   

I'm talking

about my promotion.



   

                   

Does that mean

an increase, dear?



   

                   

- How much?

- He didn't mention that.



   

                   

We could move to a larger

house. Would you like that?



   

                   

I'd rather have

a second wall-set put in.



   

                   

They say when you have

your second wall-screen,



   

                   

It's like having

your family grow around you.



   

                   

Linda, how many of these pills

have you taken today?



   

                   

What's that?



   

                   

Oh, those. Help yourself.

I've got another bottle.



   

                   

- How many have you had?

- Oh, don't carry on like that. Only a few.



   

                   

Anyway,

tonight's special for me.



   

                   

I've got a part in the family.



   

                   

What?



   

                   

Today's figures for operations

in the urban area alone...



   

                   

Account for the elimination

of the total...



   

                   

Of      pounds

of conventional editions.



   

                   

Eight hundred and thirty-six

pounds of first editions...



   

                   

And    pounds of manuscripts

were also destroyed.



   

                   

Twenty-three antisocial elements

were detained, pending re-education.



   

                   

Did you see that? Cousin

Claudette's got a bouffant tonight.



   

                   

- Who?

- Cousin Claudette.



   

                   

- Who is cousin Claudette?

- The cousin announcer. The one you don't like.



   

                   

I don't like

any of them.



   

                   

Why don't you get the

kitchen fixed? You are awful.



   

                   

Oh, hurry, hurry!

I'll be on in a minute!



   

                   

Quickly!

Quickly!



   

                   

I don't understand.

How can you be in a play?



   

                   

They've written a play with

one part missing. That's me.



   

                   

When the people look at me,

then I have to speak.



   

                   

They ask me a question,

and I have to say what I think.



   

                   

- The play, it's beginning.

- And now, for cousins everywhere,



   

                   

our family theatre.



   

                   

"Come play with us."



   

                   

Naturally, in what

you are about to see...



   

                   

any similarity with the truth or with

real life will be purely coincidental.



   

                   

Do bear that in mind.



   

                   

So, will you

come play with us?



   

                   

You will? Good!

I thought you would.



   

                   

Come in, cousins.

Be one of the family.



   

                   

Charles, do you realize

what a dilemma this is?



   

                   

It's terribly difficult.

I don't see any way out of it.



   

                   

Come, come, Bernard. Of

course there's a way out.



   

                   

There are    of us

so far, right?



   

                   

You want to invite

Edward, which makes   .



   

                   

But if somebody's ill, then

we should be back to    again.



   

                   

Precisely. Then we must invite

more people. That's an idea.



   

                   

What about Lottie and

James? That'll make   .



   

                   

Then if somebody's ill,

at least we won't be   .



   

                   

But then there's

the problem of the rooms.



   

                   

Lottie has   children,

  little boys,



   

                   

Freddie and little John.



   

                   

I don't see any problem

there at all.



   

                   

We can put the two

children in Helen's room.



   

                   

What do you think, Linda?



   

                   

- Go ahead. They're waiting for you.

- I think that...



   

                   

You see?

Linda agrees with me.



   

                   

Lottie's children must go in with Helen's

children. Linda's absolutely right.



   

                   

Then there's the problem

of the seating, Charles.



   

                   

I think I've got something

worked out, though. Look.



   

                   

If we put Yvonne at the head

and Richard at her right...



   

                   

Oh, no, Bernard. Richard

isn't even speaking to Yvonne.



   

                   

Oh?

Because of Leslie.



   

                   

Oh! Madeleine must be at the head.



   

                   

Besides, Madeleine is older than Yvonne.

She might even be older than Jacqueline.



   

                   

I see no problem there. We put

Madeleine at the head of the table.



   

                   

It's Madeleine,

isn't it, Linda?



   

                   

Absolutely.



   

                   

If Linda thinks

it's all right, it must be.



   

                   

There's still the problem about

the rooms. What rooms are left?



   

                   

There's the pink room. We could

always put Lillian in the pink room.



   

                   

We can put Susan in the green room. Yes.



   

                   

Where can we put Monica? Yes,

what can we do with Monica?



   

                   

Do you have

the answer, Linda?



   

                   

In the blue room?



   

                   

Linda, you're right.



   

                   

She's right.



   

                   

Linda, you're

absolutely fantastic.



   

                   

You saw it, didn't you?

I gave all the right answers.



   

                   

Wasn't it wonderful? I could have

been an actress. Don't you think so?



   

                   

- Think what?

- That I could have been an actress.



   

                   

Oh, sure you could have

been an actress.



   

                   

I wonder whether Joyce

was watching. I do hope so.



   

                   

I must ring her tomorrow

and find out what she thought.



   

                   

- How did you get the part?

- The head of the family rang me up. Me!



   

                   

And said I was to be

in tonight's play.



   

                   

Linda, they must have phoned every one

of        Lindas in the whole country.



   

                   

That's not true.



   

                   

I mean, even if it were true, you didn't

have to tell me. That was very mean.



   

                   

So you're in for promotion,

Montag. Good luck.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Well, well, what's all this

we hear, Montag? Promotion, eh?



   

                   

It seems so.



   

                   

How do you feel

about it? Happy?



   

                   

The wife rather likes

the idea. I suppose.



   

                   

Hurry!



   

                   

Attention!



   

                   

That will do for today.

Go back to your desks.



   

                   

What's this? I told you two I did not

want to see you sitting next to each other.



   

                   

Didn't I make it clear enough

the first time? Yes, you!



   

                   

You know what I mean.

Come and sit here.



   

                   

Let us review

yesterday's lesson.



   

                   

We studied how to detect books hidden

during the actual construction of a house.



   

                   

This is somewhat rare

because it's very costly;



   

                   

For its floors,

for its ceilings.



   

                   

We also studied concealment

inside furniture.



   

                   

Trainee firemen Stoneman and Black are

to report to captain's office immediately.



   

                   

I repeat, trainee firemen

Stoneman and Black...



   

                   

Are to report to the

captain's office immediately.



   

                   

We were discussing

concealment inside furniture.



   

                   

The most prevalent form being the

false icebox or the fake television set.



   

                   

What occasionally presents problems

are books hidden in small quantities...



   

                   

In everyday objects.



   

                   

When one is looking for a book, the

most common area is to look for it...



   

                   

in a rectangular object, like

a cigar box or a chocolate box...



   

                   

or any other object

in similar shape.



   

                   

I demonstrate how even a

cylindrical object can be used.



   

                   

Montag will report

to the captain's office.



   

                   

Here, you.

Hand me a pile of books.



   

                   

While I'm gone, give each

of the trainees a book.



   

                   

Each of you will hide his book

somewhere in this classroom.



   

                   

When I return, I will give you

a demonstration how to search.



   

                   

To learn how to find,

one must first know how to hide.



   

                   

- What shall I say?

- We met by accident.



   

                   

- That's no good.

- What do you want to say?



   

                   

- We planned it?

- It was your idea.



   

                   

- You're the one who thought of it.

- Shut up!



   

                   

If we don't tell him the

same story, we're... Listen...



   

                   

Let's play this by ear.



   

                   

- Montag, this will take about five minutes.

- Yes, sir.



   

                   

What time is it?



   

                   

Uh...   :   sir.



   

                   

Get out! This is

the last time!



   

                   

Get out!



   

                   

- Like gymnastics, Montag?

- Yes, sir.



   

                   

- And what about hockey? Do you like hockey?

- Yes, I do, sir.



   

                   

- And golf?

- Golf. Very much, sir.



   

                   

- Hmm? And football?

- Wonderful, sir.



   

                   

Billiards?

Basketball?



   

                   

Oh, they're all

very fine sports, sir.



   

                   

Then increase the dosage.

More sports for everyone, hmm?



   

                   

Strengthen the group spirit.

Organize the fun. Hmm?



   

                   

Just keep them busy, and you keep

them happy. That's what matters.



   

                   

Hmm?

Am I right?



   

                   

Absolutely, sir.



   

                   

Well, shall we talk a little

about this promotion of yours?



   

                   

You have mentioned

the possibility to your wife?



   

                   

- Yes, sir.

- And her reaction?



   

                   

She thought we might be able

to have a second wall-screen.



   

                   

Oh, you only have

the one wall converted. I see.



   

                   

These matters of promotion are much more

important to a married man, aren't they?



   

                   

I guess so, sir.



   

                   

Montag... You have

no children, I believe.



   

                   

No, sir.

We have no children.



   

                   

Well, then, a commission

seems in order.



   

                   

I can't see any reason offhand

why it shouldn't go through.



   

                   

You understand, of course,



   

                   

With the new amendment to the law, we

must expect to be worked really very hard.



   

                   

Very hard, indeed,



   

                   

Until we can arrange for

new volunteers to be drafted.



   

                   

Yes, sir, I heard the men

talking about it.



   

                   

How long have you been with us?



   

                   

For six years, sir.

Yes, for six years.



   

                   

No, no, no, for five

years, sir. For five years.



   

                   

Montag has one quality

I appreciate greatly.



   

                   

He says very little.



   

                   

Have you seen

my personal medallion?



   

                   

It's a remarkable likeness.



   

                   

You must remind me to let you

have one sometime.



   

                   

Now, let's get back

to this promotion of yours.



   

                   

I've been looking

through your file.



   

                   

There are only six back views.

We need    of them, you know.



   

                   

Two sets of six.



   

                   

Remember that, Montag.



   

                   

Linda?



   

                   

Linda!



   

                   

Hospital listening.



   

                   

- Yes, it's about my wife. She...

- Name and address.



   

                   

Uh... Montag.

Block    .



   

                   

-    ?

- Uh, just a moment.



   

                   

Hello? I just came home from work, yes.



   

                   

- And I found her on the floor unconscious.

- Does she take pills?



   

                   

- Of course! Yesterday, she...

- Just a moment.



   

                   

- I'll connect you with poisoning section.

- Yes.



   

                   

- Poisoning listening.

- It's about my wife. She...



   

                   

- Name and address.

- Uh, Montag. Block    .



   

                   

- What kind of pills?

- Oh... Uh, just a moment.



   

                   

- Hello?

- Yes?



   

                   

- They are red.

- Oh, and red number two.



   

                   

Oh, it's a stimulant.

It's harmless.



   

                   

She's probably taken the wrong

kind of sedative on top of that.



   

                   

Oh, just a moment.



   

                   

- Hello?

- Yes, listening.



   

                   

Oh, yes, they are

golden number eight.



   

                   

Right. Stay close to her.

The ambulance is on its way.



   

                   

- Four minutes.

- What should I do in the meantime?



   

                   

Nothing.



   

                   

Where is the doctor?



   

                   

What doctor? The doctor

that took care of my wife.



   

                   

No doctors on these jobs. We do

all the blood jobs, me and him.



   

                   

- No, it's here, please.

- That's right, us. Who did you expect?



   

                   

Cases like that... We

handle    a day like her.



   

                   

That's right. She won't be the last

tonight, not by a long shot. No, sir.



   

                   

Don't you worry, sir. We'll give her a

pump out and fill her up with new blood.



   

                   

In    minutes, she'll be as

good as new. Just you relax.



   

                   

This isn't pretty

to look at.



   

                   

You need a strong stomach.

You better wait out there.



   

                   

You just leave it all to us. We'll

call you as soon as she's done.



   

                   

This regulator is not

as regular as it was.



   

                   

Come here

with that thing.



   

                   

First,

get the stockings off.



   

                   

Never mind that.

Put the dress on that chair.



   

                   

All right, sir,

you can come in now.



   

                   

She's fresh as a daisy,

good as gold.



   

                   

- She's still unconscious.

- I wouldn't say that, sir.



   

                   

You've got it wrong.

She's asleep.



   

                   

Never mind about her.

You get to bed.



   

                   

By tomorrow,

it'll all be forgotten.



   

                   

She'll be completely well

by tomorrow?



   

                   

Better than that. Take my word for

it, she'll be on top of the world.



   

                   

She'll have an appetite

for all sorts of things.



   

                   

That's right. She'll be

starving. You'll find out.



   

                   

My, I'm hungry.



   

                   

How do you feel?



   

                   

Hungry.

Really hungry.



   

                   

- I'm absolutely starving. I could eat a horse.

- Do you remember last night?



   

                   

- Yes, what a sleep. I slept like a log.

- Listen...



   

                   

- When I came home last night, you were...

- I'm absolutely famished.



   

                   

Let me talk, Linda,

will you?



   

                   

Oh...

Of course, darling.



   

                   

Talk all you like

if it makes you happy.



   

                   

Go on then.

What about last night?



   

                   

Nothing.

I can't remember.



   

                   

It doesn't matter anyway.



   

                   

Look.



   

                   

I've bought you a present

to celebrate your...



   

                   

Oh, I forget what.

Never mind.



   

                   

Do you like it?

Isn't it lovely?



   

                   

Do you like it? Yes, I do. Very much.



   

                   

Isn't it smart?

It's the very latest.



   

                   

Everyone's

using them now.



   

                   

Can I throw

your old one away?



   

                   

Linda.



   

                   

Linda.



   

                   

I've something

to tell you.



   

                   

Are you listening,

Linda?



   

                   

What are you doing?



   

                   

Linda?



   

                   

Hey!



   

                   

Do you ever read

the books you burn?



   

                   

Hey, you, come here.

Come here.



   

                   

Here. What's all this?

What is it? Eh?



   

                   

Hey!



   

                   

Come on. Come on. Come on.



   

                   

All right.

Hold him.



   

                   

But some boys still boycott

the barbershops.



   

                   

Here you see a mop-up squad at work

on one of these messy know-it-alls.



   

                   

It all goes to show

law enforcement can be fun.



   

                   

How come the door

is not working?



   

                   

You're just in time.

Dinner is nearly ready.



   

                   

Montag, what are you doing? I'm coming.



   

                   

"The personal history

of David Copperfield...



   

                   

"by Charles Dickens...



   

                   

"with    illustrations by Phiz.



   

                   

"London, Chapman and Hall,

Limited, and Humphrey Milford.



   

                   

"New York,

Oxford University Press,



   

                   

"the American branch.



   

                   

"   west   nd street.



   

                   

"David Copperfield.



   

                   

"Chapter one.



   

                   

"I am born.



   

                   

"whether I shall turn out

to be the hero of my own life,



   

                   

"or whether that station

will be held by anybody else,



   

                   

"these pages must show.



   

                   

"To begin my life

with the beginning of my life,



   

                   

"I record that I was born...



   

                   

"on a Friday,

at twelve o'clock at night.



   

                   

"It was remarked that the clock

began to strike,



   

                   

and I began to cry,

simultaneously."



   

                   

Simultaneously.



   

                   

Just a moment.



   

                   

Go on.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

Aha.



   

                   

Ah-ah.



   

                   

- Oh! Everything all right?

- Yes, everything's all right.



   

                   

That's what they always say,

so it must be... All right.



   

                   

It certainly doesn't look

that way. What's wrong?



   

                   

Oh, everything.



   

                   

It would take

too long to...



   

                   

Sometimes I can't stand it

anymore. I'd just like to...



   

                   

All right, let's go

somewhere quiet then.



   

                   

- Won't you be late?

- No, I have plenty of time. Let's go over here.



   

                   

I saw you the other day, when

we were going out on a call.



   

                   

I was

on the fire engine.



   

                   

You know, it's funny.

It reminded me of something.



   

                   

A girl who used to wait...



   

                   

For a soldier...



   

                   

By a barrack gate.



   

                   

- What's happened?

- You remember the analyst, how worried I was?



   

                   

I was right to be worried.

I've been dismissed.



   

                   

Why? What reason

did they give?



   

                   

None at all.

Just an official call.



   

                   

Services no longer required.



   

                   

I'm never to go

to the school anymore.



   

                   

They must give you a reason. Make them

tell you why. Go to the school and ask.



   

                   

I can't do that.



   

                   

Anyway, who knows what they may

have said about me to the children.



   

                   

Strange. I wonder what you

said that made the analyst...



   

                   

Don't you have any idea?

Something you said or did?



   

                   

I never did get on well with

the staff. They disapprove of me.



   

                   

I don't always stick

to the timetable and...



   

                   

We have fun in my classes,

and they don't like that.



   

                   

There was another teacher,

the one I replaced.



   

                   

The same thing happened to her.

They didn't like her either.



   

                   

- Now she's in some awful kind of trouble.

- Then it wasn't the analyst.



   

                   

It was the staff that wanted to get

rid of you because you are different.



   

                   

Look at that fellow

over there.



   

                   

What's he doing? That's

the information box.



   

                   

- He can't make up his mind.

- What's he want to find out?



   

                   

He doesn't want to find out anything.

He knows someone who has books.



   

                   

So he got hold of that

person's picture and number,



   

                   

And is going to drop it

into that box.



   

                   

- But he's an informer!

- No, he's an informant. Look at him.



   

                   

Like someone circling

around a woman.



   

                   

He's putting something in

his mouth. It's a stimulant...



   

                   

To work up his nerve.



   

                   

He wants to make sure

no one can see him.



   

                   

Look at him.



   

                   

He's walking away.



   

                   

You see? He couldn't

go through with it.



   

                   

Don't worry, he'll be back.

Here he comes.



   

                   

Good lord,

make up your mind.



   

                   

- There. What a relief.

- Now he's got rid of his noisy neighbour...



   

                   

or his brother-in-law who has got

a better job or even his mother.



   

                   

Why not?

It's time to work.



   

                   

Please, go back to the

school and try to find out.



   

                   

No, I can't do that.



   

                   

You must find an excuse

to go back there.



   

                   

I suppose I ought to go

and clear out my locker.



   

                   

That's all right. Uh, I

have to hurry. Good luck.



   

                   

I'm not going.

You must come with me.



   

                   

But I can't.

I have to go to work.



   

                   

I'll take care of that.



   

                   

Come on.

Leave it to me.



   

                   

The Rodier firehouse.



   

                   

Extension one, miss.



   

                   

Rodier firehouse listening.



   

                   

- Can I speak to...

- Who's calling?



   

                   

- I'm speaking for Montag.

- Yes?



   

                   

- Can I speak to the captain?

- One moment.



   

                   

- Captain listening.

- This is Linda Montag.



   

                   

- Montag's wife?

- Yes.



   

                   

- What can I do for you?

- My husband asked me to tell you...



   

                   

He's been taken ill

and can't leave his bed.



   

                   

- Nothing serious, I hope.

- No, he should be up by this evening.



   

                   

- Very well, madam. Thank you for informing me.

- Thank you.



   

                   

Montag's wife. He's not too

well. He's staying in bed.



   

                   

Montag?



   

                   

Mmm.



   

                   

Is he?

I see.



   

                   

Well, Fabian,

that'll do for now.



   

                   

Until the meeting.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

Nine thirteens are

a hundred and seventeen.



   

                   

Nine fourteens are

a hundred and twenty-six.



   

                   

Nine fifteens are

a hundred and thirty-five.



   

                   

Nine sixteens are

a hundred and forty-four.



   

                   

Nine seventeens are

a hundred and fifty-three.



   

                   

That's Robert. Nine eighteens

are a hundred and sixty-two.



   

                   

Nine nineteens are

a hundred and seventy-one.



   

                   

Robert.



   

                   

Nine thirteens are

a hundred and seventeen.



   

                   

- It may be my uniform.

- Yes, yes, that's what frightened him!



   

                   

- It must have been your uniform.

- Go ahead. I'll wait here.



   

                   

All right.



   

                   

Nine sixteens are

a hundred and forty-four.



   

                   

Nine seventeens are

a hundred and fifty-three.



   

                   

Nine eighteens are

a hundred and sixty-three.



   

                   

One twelve is twelve.

Two twelves is twenty-four.



   

                   

Three twelves is thirty-six.

Four twelves is forty-eight.



   

                   

Five twelves is sixty.



   

                   

Six twelves is seventy-two.

Seven twelves is eighty-four.



   

                   

Eight twelves

is ninety-six.



   

                   

Nine twelves

is a hundred and eight.



   

                   

Ten twelves

is a hundred and twenty.



   

                   

Eleven twelves

is a hundred and thirty-two.



   

                   

Twelve twelves...



   

                   

I'm going

to be promoted.



   

                   

They'll listen

to me then.



   

                   

I'll go and see your

principal myself. Come.



   

                   

- Why?

- What?



   

                   

How did it come about?



   

                   

What made it begin?



   

                   

What made you want to do...



   

                   

How could someone like you

be doing this kind of work?



   

                   

I know everyone says that.

But you!



   

                   

You're not like them.



   

                   

When I say something to you,

you look at me.



   

                   

Why did you

choose this job?



   

                   

For you it doesn't seem

to make any sense.



   

                   

Do you remember what

you asked me the other day?



   

                   

If I ever read the books

I burn? Remember?



   

                   

Last night I read one.



   

                   

"Because I'd be ashamed

of myself."



   

                   

Ashamed of myself.



   

                   

"It was a little

after half past   :  ."



   

                   

- What are you doing, Linda?

- I found these things in the house.



   

                   

I don't want these things.

They frighten me.



   

                   

You spend your whole life in

front of that "family" on the wall.



   

                   

These books

are my family.



   

                   

When did we first meet?

And where?



   

                   

What? When did we meet

for the first time?



   

                   

I don't know.



   

                   

Let me think.



   

                   

No, I really

can't remember.



   

                   

Oh, that's rather sad.

Don't you think? I do.



   

                   

I think it's very sad.



   

                   

Behind each of these

books, there's a man.



   

                   

That's what interests me. So leave

them alone and go back to bed.



   

                   

I can't sleep. You have

your pills, haven't you?



   

                   

"Rhinoceros:



   

                   

"any of certain large, powerful,



   

                   

"thick-skinned

perissodactyl mammals...



   

                   

"of the family...



   

                   

Rhinocerotidae."



   

                   

- Well, look who's here.

- What about it?



   

                   

- I thought you were on sick leave.

- Sick leave?



   

                   

- Who gave you that idea?

- I don't remember. I must have got it wrong.



   

                   

Hurry up.



   

                   

Montag, you've

forgotten your helmet.



   

                   

What's this, Montag? Something

wrong between you and the pole?



   

                   

Oh, mummy, look!



   

                   

Firemen. Mummy, there's

going to be a fire.



   

                   

"Play the man,

master Ridley.



   

                   

"We shall this day light such

a candle, by god's grace...



   

                   

As I trust shall

never be put out."



   

                   

The police haven't done their

job very well. Who is this woman?



   

                   

What is she doing here? Well, she's

certainly worth looking at anyway.



   

                   

Police arrested the family this

morning, sir. She must have been out.



   

                   

Where are the books? If you didn't

know that, you wouldn't be here.



   

                   

Upstairs. Montag,

you stay here.



   

                   

Hey! You two, in there!



   

                   

In there.

Go on.



   

                   

Down there!

Throw them all down!



   

                   

Break it open! That's it.



   

                   

This way! Come on!



   

                   

Down there!

Throw them all down!



   

                   

All the books! All of them!

This way! Come on!



   

                   

"Once upon a time, there was a

poor woodcutter whose name was... "



   

                   

They can't have my books.

They'll never take them away.



   

                   

Montag, I think you

should see this. Yes, sir.



   

                   

Come on! Quickly!



   

                   

This is a real eyeful.



   

                   

Ah, Montag.

I knew it. I knew it.



   

                   

Of course, all this...

The existence of a secret...



   

                   

Library was known

in high places,



   

                   

But there was no way

of getting at it.



   

                   

Only once before have I seen

so many books in one place.



   

                   

I was just an ordinary

fireman at the time.



   

                   

I wasn't even qualified

to use the flamethrower.



   

                   

It's all ours, Montag.



   

                   

Listen to me, Montag.



   

                   

Once to each fireman,

at least once in his career,



   

                   

He just itches to know what

these books are all about.



   

                   

He just aches to know.

Isn't that so?



   

                   

Take my word for it, Montag,

there's nothing there.



   

                   

The books have nothing

to say!



   

                   

Look, these are all novels.



   

                   

All about people

that never existed.



   

                   

The people that read them, it makes

them unhappy with their own lives,



   

                   

Makes them want to live in other

ways that can never really be.



   

                   

What's happening?



   

                   

This house is condemned. They said to

burn the books here with everything else.



   

                   

Burning the house is one thing.

Burning the books is another, isn't it?



   

                   

It's never any good

burning everything together.



   

                   

Come on, Montag. All this

philosophy, let's get rid of it.



   

                   

It's even worse

than the novels.



   

                   

Thinkers, philosophers, all of

them saying exactly the same thing:



   

                   

"Only I am right.

The others are all idiots."



   

                   

One century, they tell you

man's destiny is predetermined.



   

                   

The next, they say that

he has freedom of choice.



   

                   

It's just a matter of fashion,

that's all. Philosophy.



   

                   

Just like short dresses this

year, long dresses next year.



   

                   

Look. All stories of the

dead. Biography that's called.



   

                   

And autobiography.



   

                   

My life. My diary.

My memoirs.



   

                   

My intimate memoirs.



   

                   

Of course, when they started out,

it was just the urge to write.



   

                   

Then after the second or third book, all

they wanted was to satisfy their own vanity,



   

                   

To stand out from the crowd,

to be different,



   

                   

To be able to look down

on all the others.



   

                   

Ah, critic's prize.

This is a good one.



   

                   

Of course, he had the critics

on his side. Lucky fellow.



   

                   

Just tell me this, Montag,

at a guess,



   

                   

How many literary awards were made in

this country, on an average each year?



   

                   

Five, ten, forty? Hmm?

No less than     .



   

                   

Anybody that put pen to paper was

bound to win some prize someday.



   

                   

Ah, Robinson Crusoe. The negroes didn't

like that because of his man, Friday.



   

                   

And Nietzsche. Ah, Nietzsche.

The Jews didn't like Nietzsche.



   

                   

Now, here's a book

about lung cancer.



   

                   

All the cigarette smokers got into a panic,

so for everybody's peace of mind, we burn it.



   

                   

Ah, now this one must be very

profound. The Ethics of Aristotle.



   

                   

Now anybody that read that must believe

he's a cut above anybody that hadn't.



   

                   

You see, it's no good, Montag.

We've all got to be alike.



   

                   

The only way to be happy is

for everyone to be made equal.



   

                   

So, we must burn the books,

Montag.



   

                   

- All the books.

- Sir.



   

                   

- Yes, what's the matter?

- Trouble with the old lady downstairs.



   

                   

She won't leave. She won't

leave her books, she says.



   

                   

She won't leave her books,

won't she? Won't she?



   

                   

Come on now, Madam.

We're gonna burn the house.



   

                   

No. What do you want? Martyrdom?



   

                   

I want to die as I've lived. Oh,

you must have read that in there.



   

                   

I'm not going to ask

you again. Are you going?



   

                   

These books were alive.

They spoke to me.



   

                   

Go ahead.



   

                   

All right, that's enough. Come

on, Madam, you've got ten seconds.



   

                   

Fabian, ten count.



   

                   

One.



   

                   

Two. Three.



   

                   

Four. Five.



   

                   

Six. Seven.



   

                   

Eight.



   

                   

- Nine.

- Nine elevens are ninety-nine.



   

                   

Nine twelves

are a hundred and eight.



   

                   

- Nine thirteens are a    .

- She can't stay here.



   

                   

- She refuses to leave.

- She must be forced to leave.



   

                   

Back there! Open up!



   

                   

Everybody, outside!



   

                   

Come on,

you too, Montag!



   

                   

Montag!

Get out of there!



   

                   

Montag!

Come on, this way!



   

                   

Montag!



   

                   

Montag!



   

                   

Finally, do remember to

tolerate your friends' friends,



   

                   

However alien and peculiar

they may seem to you.



   

                   

- Don't despise minorities.

- Doesn't cousin Midge's face look swollen?



   

                   

- That's because she's pregnant.

- Is that why?



   

                   

I think it's irresponsible

to have children.



   

                   

Somebody's got to have children,

Jackie. They can't let the race die out.



   

                   

Babies grow up to look

like you. That must be fun.



   

                   

- Strangle violence. Suppress prejudice.

- Here's Montag.



   

                   

Be tolerant today.



   

                   

Being just pretty

is not enough.



   

                   

The wife who uses translusives

knows better than that.



   

                   

Try some today, but watch out

for your friends' husbands.



   

                   

They'll be around you

like flies.



   

                   

No one will ever notice

that your chairs don't match,



   

                   

And you'll be

as popular as ever.



   

                   

Would you excuse me?



   

                   

Yes, I like her hair

like this.



   

                   

Come on, Montag,

be good now.



   

                   

Come on over and sit with us. You haven't

seen Jackie and Doris and Helen for ages.



   

                   

- It's very rude, you know.

- Leave me alone.



   

                   

Aren't you well?



   

                   

All right,

but it's very naughty.



   

                   

...are being reclassified.



   

                   

Two cells of antisocials

were located earlier today...



   

                   

In the western

metropolitan area.



   

                   

The police have declined

to comment so far.



   

                   

Meanwhile, the "report those

who threaten you" campaign...



   

                   

- met with particular success today...

- When an old woman, cousins,



   

                   

chose to be burned with her books

rather than being separated from them.



   

                   

If that's a joke,

it's not in very good taste.



   

                   

- You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?

- Don't be silly, Montag.



   

                   

Things like that

don't happen.



   

                   

You mean, you don't want

to hear about it. I saw it!



   

                   

- My husband says...

- Oh, your husband! You don't even know where he is!



   

                   

- Montag!

- Of course I know.



   

                   

- He's been called on reserve for some field training.

- Or to fight a little war.



   

                   

You never know, do you?

Why do you call it that?



   

                   

Even if he was,

what about it?



   

                   

He's not allowed to call

me until it's all over.



   

                   

- It'll only be about a week or two.

- He'll be all right.



   

                   

The point about wars is, if

you want to call them that,



   

                   

it's only other women's husbands

who get killed. That's true.



   

                   

I never knew anyone

who got killed in a...



   

                   

Not anyone whose husband

died like that.



   

                   

Getting run over, jumping

out of a window, yes.



   

                   

Like Gloria's husband

a few nights ago.



   

                   

But never

that other way.



   

                   

Anyway, that's life,

isn't it?



   

                   

That's what you call it.



   

                   

You're nothing

but zombies, all of you.



   

                   

Just like those husbands of

yours you don't even know anymore.



   

                   

You're not living,

you're just killing time!



   

                   

Well, I think it's time to go. Yes, I...



   

                   

Thank you. It was a lovely afternoon.



   

                   

Really fun. Yes. Sit down!



   

                   

- Come on, sit down. It'll only take a minute.

- Whatever is that?



   

                   

- Darling.

- It's not a book?



   

                   

That's what it is.

It's a novel.



   

                   

Oh, it's a book! Oh, you

mustn't! It's against the law!



   

                   

- Quiet. Sit down and listen.

- Since Montag really insists.



   

                   

But when he's through,

I hope we can do as we please.



   

                   

"There can be no disparity

in marriage...



   

                   

"like unsuitability

of mind and purpose.



   

                   

"I had endeavoured to adapt Dora to

myself and found it impracticable.



   

                   

"It remained for me to adapt myself to Dora,

to share with her what I could and be happy.



   

                   

"It made my second year

much happier than my first,



   

                   

"and, what was better still,

made Dora's life all sunshine.



   

                   

"But as that year wore on,

Dora was not strong.



   

                   

"I had hoped that lighter hands than

mine would help to mould her character...



   

                   

"and that a baby's smile upon her breast

might change my child-wife to a woman.



   

                   

"It was not to be.

My pretty Dora.



   

                   

"We thought she would be running

about as she used to do in a few days.



   

                   

"But they said wait a few days

more, and then wait a few days more,



   

                   

"and still she neither

ran nor walked.



   

                   

"I began to carry her downstairs

every morning and upstairs every night.



   

                   

"But sometimes when I took her up, I

felt that she was lighter in my arms.



   

                   

"A dead, blank feeling

came upon me,



   

                   

"as if I were approaching

some frozen region...



   

                   

"yet unseen

that numbed my life.



   

                   

"I avoided direct recognition of this feeling

by any name, over any communing with myself.



   

                   

"Until one night when it was

very strong upon me...



   

                   

"and my aunt had left her

with her parting cry,



   

                   

"'Oh, good-bye,

little blossom.'



   

                   

"I sat down at my desk,

alone, and tried to think.



   

                   

"oh, what a fatal name

it was.



   

                   

"and how the blossom...



   

                   

withered in its bloom

up in the tree."



   

                   

I knew that's what would happen.

It's what I've always said.



   

                   

Life isn't like novels, novels

and tears, novels and suicide.



   

                   

Novels are sick.

That was sheer cruelty, Montag.



   

                   

You're a cruel man. All

those words; idiotic words.



   

                   

Evil words

that hurt people.



   

                   

Isn't there enough

trouble as it is?



   

                   

Why disturb people with that

sort of filth? Poor Doris.



   

                   

Bye, Linda. We were

having such a nice party.



   

                   

- Such a shame.

- I can't bear to know those feelings.



   

                   

I'd forgotten

all about those things.



   

                   

Oh, I'm sorry, Doris.



   

                   

They won't come back.

I'll be all alone.



   

                   

I won't be popular anymore.



   

                   

They won't use me

in the family anymore.



   

                   

And you made Doris cry!



   

                   

She cried because

it is true.



   

                   

What are you going to do now?

Haven't you done enough harm?



   

                   

Leave me alone, Linda. I've

got reading to do. Quite a lot.



   

                   

- What's the matter with you? Aren't you well?

- It's nothing.



   

                   

I've got to read.



   

                   

I've got to catch up with

the remembrance of the past!



   

                   

Right. You four,

over to the house!



   

                   

Take out the line.



   

                   

- This is it. Hurry. Go on!

- But what about you, uncle?



   

                   

Don't worry.

Get going!



   

                   

All right.

Take your time. I'm coming.



   

                   

Open up! Come on!

We know there's someone in there!



   

                   

Please, wait a minute.

I'm coming.



   

                   

- Come on! Open up!

- All right! I'm coming!



   

                   

Come on, come on.



   

                   

- Now, watch it.

- You watch it.



   

                   

- What is this?

- I'm moving this chair.



   

                   

I'm fed up with it

in the middle of the room.



   

                   

And this one...

I'm going to put...



   

                   

Over here.



   

                   

There. And I'm going to

change those curtains.



   

                   

I've never liked them.

I'm gonna get new ones.



   

                   

And I'm gonna change the

laundry basket. I've decided...



   

                   

You're right. The chair's

much better over there.



   

                   

You know, you're not well. You

were tossing and turning all night.



   

                   

You kept me awake.

You ought to stay home today.



   

                   

No, no, I'm going to

the firehouse. I must.



   

                   

Because I don't know if I'm going

there tomorrow or any other day.



   

                   

- But what about your promotion?

- My promotion?



   

                   

That was before.



   

                   

Montag.



   

                   

Look, last night...

You were talking in your sleep.



   

                   

I don't know what.

I didn't understand.



   

                   

And I don't understand. What's making you

like this? What's going on in your head?



   

                   

I don't know,

and I don't want to know.



   

                   

But one thing I do want. I want

you to get rid of those books.



   

                   

- Take them away, Montag. Please.

- I will. I promise.



   

                   

- I'll do it myself if you like.

- No, I'll do it... After I've read them.



   

                   

No, now.

Do it right now, Montag.



   

                   

I'll leave you.



   

                   

I can't live

with those.



   

                   

You've got

to make a choice.



   

                   

Answer me, Montag.



   

                   

How can I answer, Linda?



   

                   

I just don't know.



   

                   

Excuse me. Do you know the girl who

lives here with her uncle? Clarisse.



   

                   

- They came for them.

- Who?



   

                   

- To take them away.

- The police?



   

                   

Not the police?

The firemen?



   

                   

They came to take them away.

They do that now, don't they?



   

                   

Only to question them.

They let them come back.



   

                   

You can't tell, can you?



   

                   

They weren't like us.

They were special.



   

                   

You see over there?



   

                   

And there.



   

                   

And there too.

Do you see?



   

                   

Now look at their house.



   

                   

There's nothing.



   

                   

Here, you! Come here!

What's the meaning of this?



   

                   

Sir... Look! How often must

I talk to you about this?



   

                   

I talked to you about it in the

office the other day, didn't I?



   

                   

Why can't you do what you're

told? Eh? Why can't you?



   

                   

Look! Look at you!

Look!



   

                   

Did I tell you to...

Haven't you got a head?



   

                   

- Is the captain in?

- He just stepped out.



   

                   

- Didn't you pass him?

- No.



   

                   

Captain.



   

                   

Yeah?



   

                   

The people who were

arrested last night, sir.



   

                   

It's about time.



   

                   

- How long have you been with us?

- Three years, sir.



   

                   

Yes, you're a good man.



   

                   

Remind me to give you one

of my personal medallions.



   

                   

The likeness is remarkable.

You'll see.



   

                   

I, uh...

You, uh...



   

                   

I already

have one, sir.



   

                   

Oh, so it was you, was it?

How did you get in?



   

                   

I needed some information about some

arrests that were made last night.



   

                   

I wanted to see

some identifications.



   

                   

Ah! So Montag's handling

the arrests now, is he?



   

                   

Oh, no, sir,

not at all.



   

                   

Last night, you said. But the

identifications wouldn't be there.



   

                   

Not yet. In fact,

they've just been handed to me.



   

                   

Let's see now.



   

                   

Let's see if they're

amongst this lot.



   

                   

- Oh, they're the ones!

- I see.



   

                   

A little young

for him... I'd say.



   

                   

He's her uncle.



   

                   

- Friends of yours?

- Oh, no, sir. I know them slightly.



   

                   

- They live nearby.

- Ah.



   

                   

- And you'd like their house, is that it?

- Yes, sir, that's it.



   

                   

Well, the house will have

to be requisitioned,



   

                   

But you can't move in until

the niece has been arrested too.



   

                   

Oh, she...

She's still at large then?



   

                   

For the moment, yes.



   

                   

Look at the identification.

It hasn't been stamped yet.



   

                   

It's just a matter

of a day or two.



   

                   

We'll get you

your house. Hmm?



   

                   

How did you get in?



   

                   

Oh, now,

what's all this about?



   

                   

Hmm? Still shaky?



   

                   

You shouldn't have come in.



   

                   

Look at you.

You look like death.



   

                   

Some fresh air,

that's what you need.



   

                   

A nice bit of fresh air

will put you right again.



   

                   

Incidentally, if you see that niece

wandering about this part of the world,



   

                   

You might let us know.



   

                   

It might expedite

the matter of the house.



   

                   

Of course, sir.



   

                   

- Clarisse, I must talk to you.

- Not here.



   

                   

- What happened?

- Uncle was arrested.



   

                   

I got away.



   

                   

But how did it happen?



   

                   

They came last night. We

were all asleep. Come on.



   

                   

Look, I have to get home.

It's terribly important.



   

                   

Uncle woke me up and

told me to get away.



   

                   

I escaped through the

skylight over the roof.



   

                   

This is the last place

you should have come to.



   

                   

I know, but there's

something I must find.



   

                   

Look, please stay with me.

I'm frightened.



   

                   

All right,

I'll stay with you.



   

                   

- It must be here somewhere.

- What must be here?



   

                   

Something.

Something I have to find.



   

                   

- Find and destroy.

- Let me look.



   

                   

- You wouldn't know where to start looking.

- It was my job.



   

                   

- How big?

- About this big.



   

                   

- Papers.

- Oh.



   

                   

It's no use.



   

                   

- We'll find it. Don't you worry.

- It's a list of addresses.



   

                   

Friends of my uncle; who they

are and where they're hiding.



   

                   

We'll find it.



   

                   

What are you doing?



   

                   

We must destroy these.



   

                   

I always wanted

to tell you...



   

                   

Our meeting in the

monorail was no accident.



   

                   

I noticed you,

and I followed you.



   

                   

I thought

you could help us.



   

                   

I knew it when that old

woman killed herself.



   

                   

I realized there was a

connection between you. Yes.



   

                   

She was afraid she'd talk

and give us away. Yes.



   

                   

And I...



   

                   

This morning, what do I do? I

get into a little bit of trouble,



   

                   

And I faint

like a silly, little girl.



   

                   

I can't be a fireman anymore.

What is that over there?



   

                   

That? That's a rocking chair.

People used to sit...



   

                   

Outside their houses on warm evenings

and rock backwards and forwards.



   

                   

- Oh, really?

- Talking to anyone passing by.



   

                   

Just talking. We'll have

to go away from here.



   

                   

I know a place.



   

                   

My uncle told me what to do if

ever he was... If ever he was taken.



   

                   

You follow the river upstream 'til

you come to the old steam railway line.



   

                   

Then you go on and you go on until

you get to where the book people live.



   

                   

- The good people?

- No, book. The book people.



   

                   

You've not heard of them? No.



   

                   

People who vanished. Some were

arrested and managed to escape.



   

                   

Others were released. Some didn't wait to

be arrested. They just hid themselves away.



   

                   

Up in the farm country; the woods and the

hills. They live there in little groups.



   

                   

The law can't touch them. They live quite

peaceably and do nothing that's forbidden.



   

                   

Though, if they came into the

city, they might not last long.



   

                   

But how can you

call them book people...



   

                   

If they don't do anything

against the law?



   

                   

They are books.

Each one, men and women,



   

                   

Everyone, commits a book they've chosen

to memory, and they become the books.



   

                   

Of course, every now and then,

someone gets stopped, arrested.



   

                   

Which is why

they live so cautiously.



   

                   

Because the secret they carry is the

most precious secret in the world.



   

                   

With them, all human knowledge

would pass away.



   

                   

- You must come with me.

- Oh, no, not yet.



   

                   

Uh, it is too soon for me.

I was still burning books.



   

                   

Yes, in time, perhaps.



   

                   

But now everything in my life

has suddenly changed.



   

                   

I must stay in the city.

I have a plan.



   

                   

I will hide a book in every

fireman's house and then denounce him.



   

                   

The system will eat itself.



   

                   

We must burn

the pyromaniacs out.



   

                   

Now we have to go.



   

                   

Separately.



   

                   

You to your book people

and me to strip this off.



   

                   

We shall see

each other again.



   

                   

No, we shan't.

Why pretend we shall?



   

                   

You are right.

We shan't.



   

                   

Fit and well again? Good, excellent.

Come on, hurry, no time to lose.



   

                   

I'm sorry, sir. I was

on my way to tell you...



   

                   

I shan't be staying

with the force, sir.



   

                   

Shan't be? But this isn't

how things are done, Montag.



   

                   

Not on the eve of promotion.

I shan't be coming in tomorrow.



   

                   

Tomorrow's another day.

Today you're under my command.



   

                   

Montag, I'm asking you,

as one man to another.



   

                   

Please. Please!



   

                   

You can't let me down like this in front

of the men, not in front of the others.



   

                   

Just this one last call.

Then you can do as you like.



   

                   

Montag.



   

                   

This is my house!



   

                   

Mm-hmm, that's right.



   

                   

- Linda!

- I couldn't bear it.



   

                   

I just couldn't bear it

anymore.



   

                   

Well, now, Montag knows

exactly what we're looking for.



   

                   

I think we can

leave it to him.



   

                   

To know how to find, one must first

know how to hide. Isn't that so?



   

                   

I like a man who knows his work. You

men, just check the rest of the house.



   

                   

Everything ready, Fabian?

Come on, hurry it up.



   

                   

Come on,

bring us the sparkler.



   

                   

As this is Montag's home, I think,

perhaps, he should do the honours.



   

                   

What are you doing in there!

Have you gone mad?



   

                   

Come on, get back in there!

Just the books! The books!



   

                   

What do you think you're doing?

There's no need for that!



   

                   

I said the books, Montag!



   

                   

That's good.

That's what I like to see.



   

                   

Sweet reason.

Novels aren't life.



   

                   

What did Montag hope

to get out of all this print?



   

                   

Happiness? What a poor

idiot you must have been.



   

                   

This gibberish is enough

to drive a man mad.



   

                   

Thought you could learn from these

how to walk on the waters, did you?



   

                   

Montag must learn

to think a little.



   

                   

Consider how all these writings, all

these recipes for happiness disagree.



   

                   

Now let this heap of

contradictions burn itself out.



   

                   

You know it's we who, at this moment,

are working for man's happiness.



   

                   

Look, isn't that lovely?

The pages,



   

                   

Like flower petals or

butterflies, luminous and black.



   

                   

Who can explain the fascination

of fire? What draws us to it?



    

                   

Whether we're young or old.



    

                   

Nothing to say?

That's the spirit.



    

                   

That's real wisdom.

He still has one.



    

                   

What have you got there?

Is this your special book?



    

                   

It's got to be burned with the

others, and you're under arrest.



    

                   

Montag.



    

                   

Get out of there!



    

                   

Everybody, out of here quick!

He's gone mad!



    

                   

Right now! Go!



    

                   

Watch for a man running

through the streets.



    

                   

Repeating.

Calling all citizens.



    

                   

Wanted for murder.

Montag.



    

                   

Fireman.



    

                   

The criminal is alone

and on foot.



    

                   

Let each one stand

at his front door.



    

                   

Look and listen.



    

                   

Watch for a man running

through the streets.



    

                   

Repeating.

Calling all citizens.



    

                   

Wanted for murder.

Montag.



    

                   

Fireman.



    

                   

The criminal is alone

and on foot.



    

                   

Let each one stand

at his front door.



    

                   

Look and listen.



    

                   

I am, uh... Yes, we know who you are.



    

                   

You're the man of the hour. Come.



    

                   

Come and witness your

own capture. My capture?



    

                   

That's right. Our

beautiful cousin is being...



    

                   

Particularly

entertaining today.



    

                   

You'll see.



    

                   

Oh, I beg your pardon.



    

                   

I am the journal of Henri

Brilard by Stendhal.



    

                   

Montag is still at large,

but time is running out fast.



    

                   

Ah, there it is.



    

                   

The aerial patrol

has sighted the wanted man.



    

                   

They can't keep the viewers

waiting much longer.



    

                   

The show must go on.

They'll find somebody.



    

                   

Anybody will do to provide them

with their climax.



    

                   

There he is.

You can see him clearly now.



    

                   

There is Montag,

running headlong into the trap,



    

                   

Scurrying about

like a frightened rat.



    

                   

Just look at him, cousins.



    

                   

It's all over, cousins.

Montag is dead.



    

                   

A crime against society

has been avenged.



    

                   

They never showed the man's face

properly. It was too far away, of course.



    

                   

Even your friends are bound

to believe you're dead.



    

                   

Here. You may as well

shed your old skin.



    

                   

"The moon was shining

sulkily...



    

                   

"because she thought the sun...



    

                   

"had got no business

to be there...



    

                   

"after the day was done.



    

                   

'It's very rude of him,'

she said."



    

                   

Are you interested

in Plato's Republic?



    

                   

Uh... Well, I am Plato's Republic.



    

                   

I'll recite myself for you whenever

you like. Thank you very much.



    

                   

Now here's Wuthering Heights

by Emily Bronte.



    

                   

And here's The Corsair

by Byron.



    

                   

She used to be married

to a chief of police.



    

                   

Now that skinny fellow is Alice

in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.



    

                   

Where's Alice through the looking-glass today?

She should be somewhere about.



    

                   

There's Pilgrim's Progress

by John Bunyan.



    

                   

He ate his book

so they couldn't burn it.



    

                   

Waiting for Godot

by Samuel Beckett.



    

                   

Oh, you see the little blonde

coming towards us? Watch her blush.



    

                   

I'm Jean-Paul Sartre's The Jewish Question.

Delighted to meet you.



    

                   

I'm The Martian Chronicles

by Ray Bradbury.



    

                   

Allow me to introduce...

Oh. May I?



    

                   

The Pickwick Papers, Charles Dickens.

Oh, Charles Dickens.



    

                   

Once I read a book

he wrote:



    

                   

David Copperfield. We have

a David Copperfield amongst us.



    

                   

He's with another group

in the south.



    

                   

I am The Prince by Machiavelli. Oh.



    

                   

As you see, you can't

judge a book by its cover.



    

                   

I am Jane Austin's

Pride and Prejudice.



    

                   

I am Jane Austin's

Pride and Prejudice.



    

                   

Both of you the same book?



    

                   

My brother is volume one.

My brother is volume two.



    

                   

It's a great pleasure

to meet you.



    

                   

We call the first one Pride.



    

                   

The other one's Prejudice.

I don't think they like it much.



    

                   

Here, we're only    or so, but there

are many, many more scattered around.



    

                   

In abandoned railway yards,

wandering the roads.



    

                   

Tramps outwardly,

but, inwardly, libraries.



    

                   

Oh, it wasn't planned.



    

                   

It just so happened that a man here

and a man there loved some book.



    

                   

And rather than lose it,

he learned it.



    

                   

And we came together.



    

                   

We're a minority of undesirables

crying out in the wilderness.



    

                   

But it won't

always be so.



    

                   

One day we shall be called on, one

by one, to recite what we've learned.



    

                   

And then books

will be printed again.



    

                   

And when the next

age of darkness comes,



    

                   

Those who come after us will

do again as we have done.



    

                   

I have one with me. Yes?



    

                   

What is it?

Let me see.



    

                   

"Tales of Mystery and

Imagination by Edgar Allen Poe."



    

                   

Learn it quickly, so that

we can burn it. You burn it?



    

                   

We have to, so that no one

can take them away from us.



    

                   

Yes, we burn the books.



    

                   

But we keep them up here

where nobody can find them.



    

                   

As a matter of fact, we've just

burned the memoirs of Saint Simon.



    

                   

You see, Montag, that man over

there hasn't much longer to live.



    

                   

He's the Weir of Hermiston by Robert

Louis Stevenson. The boy is his nephew.



    

                   

He's now reciting himself,

so the boy can become the book.



    

                   

"'I will be very quiet,' replied

Archie. And I will be boldly frank.



    

                   

I do not love my father. I wonder

sometimes if I do not hate him."



    

                   

"'I will be very quiet,' replied

Archie. And I will be boldly frank.



    

                   

I do not love my father. I wonder

sometimes if I do not hate him."



    

                   

"There's my shame,

perhaps my sin.



    

                   

At least, and in the sight

of god, not my fault."



    

                   

"There's my shame,

perhaps my sin.



    

                   

At least, and in the sight

of god, not my fault."



    

                   

"How was I to love him?



    

                   

"He has never spoken to me,

never smiled upon me.



    

                   

I do not think

he ever touched me."



    

                   

"How was I to love him? He has never

spoken to me, never smiled upon me.



    

                   

And I do not think

he ever touched me."



    

                   

"He was more afraid of death

than of anything else.



    

                   

"And he died

as he thought he would,



    

                   

while the first snows

of winter fell."



    

                   

"He was more afraid of death

than of anything else.



    

                   

- "And he died... "

- "And he died while the first... "



    

                   

- "He died as he thought... "

- "And he died as he thought... "



    

                   

- "As he thought he would."

- "As he thought he would,



    

                   

While the first snows

of winter fell."



    

                   

"'I will be very quiet,' replied

Archie. And I will be boldly frank.



    

                   

"I do not love my father. I wonder

sometimes if I do not hate him.



    

                   

"There's my shame,

perhaps my sin.



    

                   

"At least, and in the sight

of god, not my fault.



    

                   

"How was I to love him? He has never

spoken to me, never smiled upon me.



    

                   

"And I do not think

he ever touched me.



    

                   

"He was more afraid of death

than of anything else.



    

                   

"And he died as he

thought he would,



    

                   

while the first snows

of winter fell."



    

                   

"I'm going to relate

a tale full of horror."



    

                   

"I would gladly suppress it,

were it not a chronicle."



    

                   

"Now, how much there is

to tell... "



    

                   

"at that moment,

Mr. Pickwick... "











  

 
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