Don't Make a Scene: To Catch a Thief

The Story: A simple picnic in one of the most picturesque places on Earth in To Catch a Thief.

With two of the screen's most popular stars of the 1950's, under the director who was fast becoming as much a household name as Cecil B. DeMille, Alfred Hitchcock.

Forget the witty repartee provided by John Michael Hayes (although it's tough to do, with a suggestive thought appearing every few lines or so and even a crack at British-born Grant playing Americans all the time—the man worked with Hitch on Rear Window, The Man Who Knew Too Much, and The Trouble with Harry), the key to the scene is Hitchcock's minimalist editing of the scene—he just lets the actors ACT!—and a camera that, once it's settled, stays in the same spot for several minutes—the edit coming right before the climactic kiss in order for the audience to be more involved in it...and, I'm sure, Hitchcock, too.

The script segment is from Hayes' last draft and it's fairly descriptive of the action (although there are bits of business the actors throw in like Kelly's Francie's self-absorbed procurement of the salt without offering Grant's Robie any) and the dialog is pretty much spot-on how it would appear on-screen. But, with little differences. Both Kelly and Grant had worked with Hitchcock before, so they knew his methods and they knew how much he would tolerate deviating from the script (Answer: Not Much!).

But, Grant learned a few tricks from working with Howard Hawks—specifically on His Girl Friday. There was a concerted effort on that film to make the dialog speed along and feel like real conversation, rather than written dialog. So, Grant and co-stars would at little unimportant phrases at the beginnings and ends of lines, so that actors could interrupt and step over each other without anyone missing the crux of what was being said. Grant became a master of it, and his dialog always feels natural because he's adding things the way he would talk. Kelly proves quite adept at the same thing, and the scene has a logical flow and a feeling of two people really talking without knowing what the other will be saying (despite everybody reading the same script). Those additions are noted in green.

One should also mention that Kelly's character is a little weird, even beyond the parameters of the "muted sexiness' required of "the Hitchcock blond." She is genuinely intrigued, even—dare I say?—excited at "Conrad Burns" from Oregon being the cat-burglar John Robie. It rev's her engine, although she's perfectly capable of exceeding the speed limit on her own. I know that we've done two Hitchcock scenes in a row, but this attribute makes me want to do a third one—next week—that runs along the same attribute.

 

The Set-Up: John Robie (Cary Grant) is a former cat-burglar and jewel thief, retired now to the South of France. When a new string of robberies begin occurring on the French Riviera, the police suspect him (naturalment!). He wants to return to his peaceful retirement without having to look over his shoulder all the time, so he decides he'll catch the thief, himself, to prove his innocence. From a local insurance man (John Williams), Robie gets the names of the most bauble-bearing and most susceptible-to-rob people living in the area. At the top of the list are Jessie Stevens (Jessie Royce Landis) and her daughter Frances (Grace Kelly) from America, and Robie makes his introductions over dinner posing as Conrad Burns, lumber tycoon from Oregon. Jessie likes this "Mr. Burns" but "Francie" has a definitely cool demeanor. Until, she plants a big good-night kiss on him. She then makes a habit of turning up everywhere he is, while his attitude is something of a "mutual disregard." She's just revealed that she knows he's John Robie "The Cat" and has helped lead the police on a merry chase. Time for lunch, double entendres on the menu.
 

Action.

457. EXT. LA TURBIE–(DAY)–MEDIUM SHOT 

Francie stretches her arms up and out into the air. Then she takes a comb out of her purse, and begins arranging her hair. She talks as she does this.

FRANCIE: My, it’s a lovely day. (Takes a deep breath) Did you ever see any place in the world more beautiful than this?

FRANCIE: Look at the colors of the sea off there, and the sky, and those pink and green buildings on the hill. 

FRANCIE: Think of all the roofs down there you could climb over. 

ROBIE: Who did you call me? 

FRANCIE: Robie. John Robie. One of the world’s cleverest jewel thieves—known as The Cat. I’ve read all about you, in the Paris paper. 

ROBIE: You might have read about somebody called The Cat, but—

FRANCIE: (Interrupts) I thought you were hungry. 

ROBIE: I am. 

She takes out the key, and hands it to him with a smile. 

FRANCIE: The picnic basket’s in the trunk. 

Robie opens the door, and starts to walk around the car. 

THE CAMERA PANS with him. He starts to open the trunk. 

458. EXT. LA TURBIE–(DAY)–SEMI-CLOSEUP 

Francie combing her hair in the rear view mirror, and at the same time, watching Robie. 

FRANCIE: I hope you try to...

FRANCIE: ...bluff me, Mr. Robie. Then I can have the fun of telling you how clever I was. 

459 EXT. LA TURBIE–(DAY)–CLOSEUP 

Through the rear view mirror, we see Robie opening the trunk in back. He pauses in doing so, as he replies: 

ROBIE: Since I am not Mr. Robie, but W. Burns, Miss Stevens—there would hardly be any point in bluffing you. 

ROBIE: Nevertheless, tell me how clever you were. 

Robie takes out the picnic basket, and closes the trunk. 

460. EXT. LA TURBIE–(DAY)–SEMI-CLOSEUP 

Francie turns, with delight, and leans over the back of the seat to face him. 

FRANCIE: Well, the first thing I noticed about you, was— 

Her eyes follow Robie as he is moving from the trunk to the front seat of the car. His VOICE is HEARD off: 

ROBIE: (Interrupting) Don’t sound so pleased with yourself. 

FRANCIE: I never caught a jewel thief before. It’s stimulating. 

It’s like, like— 

The CAMERA FULLS BACK as Robie comes into the picture and puts the basket on the front seat. 

ROBIE: Like sitting in a hot tub? 

She laughs. 

There is something about her manner that seems flushed and exaggerated. 

FRANCIE: Here, let me serve. 

Robie seats himself on the floor of the car, with his feet on the ground. His back is to her. She opens the picnic basket. Takes out two bottles of beer and an opener, which she hands him. 

FRANCIE: The first time I saw you was on the beach in Cannes. You swam ashore from a motor boat driven by...

FRANCIE: ...that little French girl. 

ROBIE: You got an opener?

FRANCIE: Hm.

ROBIE: Thank you....

FRANCIE: (Looks up to him) Do you want a leg or a breast? 

ROBIE: You make the choice. 

Robie makes no reactions to her revelations. He forces himself to be outwardly calm and nonchalant. Francie reaches into the basket, and hands him a chicken leg. She takes a piece of breast meat for herself. He has opened the beer bottles by now, hands one to her. Each of them takes a bite of the chicken. She reaches in the basket for some salt, and salts his chicken, and then hers. 

FRANCIE: That was two days before you showed up at the hotel as Mr. Conrad Burns,

ROBIE: (uh-huh)

FRANCIE: ...just over from America. 

FRANCIE: Did you swim? 

ROBIE: Somehow, Miss Stevens. you’ve lost me. Well, naturally!

FRANCIE: Now don’t be disappointing, and act like Mr. Burns. 

ROBIE: I can only be myself. 

FRANCIE: Then be yourself, John. 

ROBIE: I prefer Conrad. 

FRANCIE: You can’t be serious. 

FRANCIE: And it’s about time you called me Francie. 

She eats some more of the chicken, then takes a swig of beer. 

FRANCIE: I have to look out for Mother. They’ve tried to steal her jewelry before. When I read about the—uh, 

FRANCIE: you—in the papers—just a small item but I picked it up—

FRANCIE: I was sure that mother would catch your eye. 

ROBIE: Mm-hm. She did. Because I liked her. So far, Miss Stevens—

FRANCIE: Mmm. Francie

ROBIE: (So far) You haven’t said anything that even remotely sounds clever. 

FRANCIE: (Nods) Well, Stick around. The next thing I noticed was something remarkable.

ROBIE: Yeah?

FRANCIE: All evening long, you only looked at my mother—never at me. 

ROBIE: I kissed you, didn’t I? 

FRANCIE: I kissed you. 

ROBIE: At least I ...certainly wasn’t looking at your mother then. 

FRANCIE: You were thinking about her. Otherwise you’d never have let me say goodnight so easily. 

ROBIE: I’m a gentleman. 

FRANCIE: A rough lumberman from the big Northwest? 

ROBIE: I’ll I must remember to shout “timber” occasionally. 

FRANCIE: Now here comes some of the clever part— (She smiles defiantly) 

FRANCIE: You’re not quite convincing, John. 

FRANCIE: You’re like an American character in an English movie. 

FRANCIE: You don’t talk quite the way an American tourist ought to talk. 

ROBIE: Don't you know that All the guidebooks say don’t act like a tourist. 

FRANCIE: It’s just that you never mention business, or baseball, or television, or politics, or taxes, or wage freezes, or senate probes.

ROBIE: Everything I left home to forget.

FRANCIE: You’re just not American enough to carry it off. 

FRANCIE: How long has it been? 

ROBIE: Since Boston won the pennant? How long has what been?

FRANCIE: Since you were in America last? 

ROBIE: Three days ago. Just after Kukla, Fran and Ollie. I dunno. About four or five days.

FRANCIE: And Oregon? 

ROBIE: A week ago. The day they found a Communist in the Russian Embassy. About three or four days before that.

FRANCIE: Name me three deciduous trees indigenous to the North-west.

ROBIE: Now listen...

ROBIE: You’re a nice girl with too much imagination. If you go around talking like this about me, end up in a French jail for something I didn’t do. 

FRANCIE: (Smiles triumphantly) Are you going to rob Mother first, or somebody else? 

ROBIE: Under the circumstances, somebody else. 

FRANCIE: Mm. That’s nice. Mother likes you.

ROBIE: Well...

FRANCIE: —I think Lady Kenton should be our next job. 

He puts down the beer and chicken. 

ROBIE: Now look— 

FRANCIE: Isn’t she on your list? She ought to be. The Kenton jewels are famous. 

FRANCIE: I know every inch of her villa. 

ROBIE: I can already hear your next line. 

FRANCIE: The cat has a new kitten. 

FRANCIE: When do we start? 

He turns, reaches up and takes her wrist. 

ROBIE: Don’t talk like that. 

FRANCIE: (Pleasantly) You’re leaving fingerprints on my arm. 

ROBIE: I’m not John Robie, The Cat. 

FRANCIE: (Speaking rapidly) Why are the police following you? Show me that “real estate” list. That villa you went to isn’t for rent, and you know it. 

FRANCIE: The Sanfords have owned it for years—and I’m going to a party there in a week— 

FRANCIE: You have a very strong grip. The kind a burglar needs. 

He relaxes his hand a little, but still holds her. He smiles at her.

He pulls her down to him, and kisses her. 

After they part: 

ROBIE: That’s why you came out here, isn’t it? 

FRANCIE: We’ll have cocktails at eight—dinner at eight-thirty. All in my suite. We’ll talk about it there. 

ROBIE: Can’t come. I’m going to the Casino and watch the fire-works display. 

FRANCIE: You get a better view from my place. 

ROBIE: Already got another date. 

FRANCIE: Everywhere you go, I’11 have you paged as “John Robie, The Cat”. 

He doesn’t say anything to this. 

FRANCIE: Eight o’clock. And Be on time. 

ROBIE: I don’t have a good watch. Haven't got a decent watch.

FRANCIE: Steal one. 

She smiles sweetly at him.

 

To Catch a Thief

 

Words by John Michael Hayes and Alec Coppel

 

Pictures by Robert Burks and Alfred Hitchcock

 

To Catch a Thief is available on Paramount Home Entertainment—the only one they kept the rights to!