“After Twenty Years” by O. Henry

Look at this work as a film script: show how O. Henry helped popularize the new medium of film—using set-ups or “shots” in his “vision-centered” prose—introduction of phonography, film transform traditional storytelling in print;  let’s adapt O.Henry as a film script

Exposition or establishing shot (long shot of street moving up to middle shot or tracking shot of policeman—what are we trying to establish in the shot: a) location—city b) time-night c) weather—wet cold d) routine yet lonely)  The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 o'clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a taste of rain in them had well nigh depeopled the streets.

(Shot: Close-up of walking stick movements—what does this symbolize—aggressiveness, power, habit, force, chance (wheel of fate) Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and artful movements, turning now and then to cast his watchful eye adown the pacific (peaceful) thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form and slight swagger, made a fine picture of a guardian of the peace. The vicinity was one that kept early hours. (Shot: middle or long to indicate some activity) Now and then you might see the lights of a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter; but the majority of the doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed.

(Shot: Zoom to close-up on mystery man—P.O.V. from policeman) When about midway of a certain block the policeman suddenly slowed his walk. In the doorway of a darkened hardware store a man leaned, with an unlighted cigar in his mouth. As the policeman walked up to him the man spoke up quickly.

(Reverse shots—over the shoulder shots for dialogue--closeup) "It's all right, officer," (he knows about talking his way out of trouble) he said, reassuringly. "I'm just waiting for a friend. It's an appointment made twenty years ago. Sounds a little funny to you, doesn't it? Well, I'll explain if you'd like to make certain it's all straight. (straight—criminal word?)  About that long ago there used to be a restaurant where this store stands--'Big Joe' Brady's restaurant."

"Until five years ago," said the policeman. "It was torn down then."

(Shot: close or medium—focus on face lit by cigar and then scar—another clue to criminal/violent past?) O. Henry like a filmmaker offers images but doesn’t comment on them—allows to be ambigious or open-ended – pulls the reader into the act of story co-creation) The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light showed a pale, square-jawed face with keen eyes, and a little white scar near his right eyebrow. (close-up: symbolism: money, “style”—flashy as opposed to classy—there’s something wrong about this guy.  Is it even a diamond?). His scarfpin was a large diamond, oddly set.

(Long exposition for story—how would be cut this down in a script?  Flashback or simplify dialogue—visual information-narrative over flashback images?) "Twenty years ago to-night," said the man, "I dined here at 'Big Joe' Brady's with Jimmy Wells, my best chum, and the finest chap in the world. He and I were raised here in New York, just like two brothers, together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to start for the West to make my fortune. You couldn't have dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it was the only place on earth. Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here again exactly twenty years from that date and time, no matter what our conditions might be or from what distance we might have to come. We figured that in twenty years each of us ought to have our destiny worked out and our fortunes made, whatever they were going to be."

"It sounds pretty interesting," said the policeman. "Rather a long time between meets, though, it seems to me. Haven't you heard from your friend since you left?"

(Dialogue to highlight: is he telling the truth at all?  “hustling”—another ambiguous word, Set up comparison between hustler and “staunchest old chap”  What your word means.  And living up to your word—even the Westerner (unnamed) lives to his word--ironically)  "Well, yes, for a time we corresponded," said the other. "But after a year or two we lost track of each other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept hustling around over it pretty lively. But I know Jimmy will meet me here if he's alive, for he always was the truest, staunchest old chap in the world. He'll never forget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door to-night, and it's worth it if my old partner turns up."

(Close-up: Emphasis on time (twenty years--) but also flashy not classy—why show policeman?  He’s got money, importance) The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small diamonds.

"Three minutes to ten," he announced. "It was exactly ten o'clock when we parted here at the restaurant door."

"Did pretty well out West, didn't you?" asked the policeman.

(Contrast in two characters: plodder vs razor’s edge ;  how do you say that line—“You bet!”) "You bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder, though, good fellow as he was. I've had to compete with some of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razor-edge on him."

The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.

"I'll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call time on him sharp?"

"I should say not!" said the other. "I'll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is alive on earth he'll be here by that time. So long, officer."

"Good-night, sir," said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as he went.

(Shot: montage of street, middle to long, pulling back almost to opening shot only this time we know the guy’s the in doorway) There was now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few foot passengers astir in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along with coat collars turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store the man who had come a thousand miles to fill an appointment, uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of his youth, smoked his cigar and waited.

(Shot: Medium shot of man in collar approaching Bob (who now has a name)  About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat, with collar turned up to his ears, hurried across from the opposite side of the street. He went directly to the waiting man.

(shots: over the shoulders) "Is that you, Bob?" he asked, doubtfully.

"Is that you, Jimmy Wells?" cried the man in the door.

(Direction: Jimmy never answers that it’s him) "Bless my heart!" exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the other's hands with his own. "It's Bob, sure as fate. (Fate as a theme) I was certain I'd find you here if you were still in existence. Well, well, well! --twenty years is a long time. The old gone, Bob; I wish it had lasted, so we could have had another dinner there. How has the West treated you, old man?"

"Bully; it has given me everything I asked it for. You've changed lots, Jimmy. I never thought you were so tall by two or three inches." (Why it is important: suspicious note—do we sympathize with Jimmy or with Bob?   Who is the true friend?  Where do our ultimate loyalties lie—with an individual or with society as a whole?)

"Oh, I grew a bit after I was twenty."

"Doing well in New York, Jimmy?"

"Moderately. I have a position in one of the city departments.(key phrase—emphasize without giving it away)  Come on, Bob; we'll go around to a place I know of, and have a good long talk about old times."

(Shot: medium from behind to long) The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West, his egotism enlarged by success (lose sympathy with him?), was beginning to outline the history of his career. The other, submerged in his overcoat, listened with interest.

(Shot stops—close ups?) At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric lights. When they came into this glare each of them turned simultaneously to gaze upon the other's face.

The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.

"You're not Jimmy Wells," he snapped. "Twenty years is a long time, but not long enough to change a man's nose from a Roman to a pug."

"It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one, said the tall man. "You've been under arrest for ten minutes, 'Silky' Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped over our way and wires us she wants to have a chat with you. Going quietly, are you? That's sensible. Now, before we go on to the station here's a note I was asked to hand you. You may read it here at the window. It's from Patrolman Wells."

(shot-closeup) The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him. His hand was steady when he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note was rather short.

"Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light your cigar (Fate) I saw it was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn't do it myself, so I went around and got a plain clothes man to do the job. JIMMY."

Who do we sympathize with?  Bob, the absent Jimmy, the cop?  All or none?   Fate?  Why does Jimmy turn him in (it’s his character—Character is Fate—what you’re made of determines how things work out