The Nanny

Written By
Peter Marc Jacobson And Robert Sternin & Prudence
Fraser
Story By
Fran Drescher & Peter Marc Jacobson And
Robert Sternin & Prudence Fraser

January 8, 1993
First Draft

COLD OPENING

EXT. STREET -- FLUSHING, NEW YORK

(THERE’S A TRAFFIC JAM, A KOSHER HOTDOG/KNISH CART AND LOTS
OF PEOPLE YELLING AND SCREAMING TWO ORTHODOX JEWS WALK
BY, ARGUING ABOUT SOME MINUTE TALMUDIC POINT, OR THE SCORE
OF LAST NIGHT’S KNICK GAME. WE FOLLOW THEM TO…)

EXT. DANNY’S 4 BRIDES
(A KITCH BRIDAL BOUTIQUE)

INT. BRIDAL SHOP -- CONTINUOUS

(WHERE FRAN FINE AND HER BEST FRIEND, VAL, WAIT ON DOTTIE, A
CUSTOMER IN A TOO-TIGHT BRIDAL GOWN. DOTTIE HOLDS A
CIGARETTE BETWEEN HER ‘LOVE THAT PINK’ ACRYLIC NAILS)

VAL: That dress makes you look like a virgin.
FRAN: Which half the men in Flushing know isn’t true.

(SHE LAUGHS – A VERY DISTINCTIVE WHAT, I’M ONLY JOKING
LAUGH. EVERYTHING ABOUT FRAN IS PRETTY DISTINCTIVE. WITH A
FACE OUT OF VOGUE AND A VOICE OUT OF HER NOSE, SHE’S THE
ULTIMATE DARE I SAY JEWISH AMERICAN GIRL FROM QUEENS. A
PUFF OF SMOKE BILLOWS FROM DOTTIE’S WEDDING VEIL WHICH, AT
THE MOMENT, IS COVERING HER FACE)

FRAN: (CONT’D) Could ya move the cigarette, Dottie? I’m getting emphysema
here.
DOTTIE: (A GRAVELY SMOKER’S VOICE) Sorry doll… So when are you and
Danny going to set a date already?
FRAN: Ah, you know me. Always the bridal consultant, never the bride.
VAL: So how are the shoes? Do they really feel like sneakers?
DOTTIE: I don’t know if I love ‘em.
FRAN: (WITH A LOOK AT VAL) Honey, what’s to love? Be glad they even make a
satin pump in a 10 ½.

(DANNY, FRAN’S BOSS AND BOYFRIEND, A 1990’S TONY MENERO, ENTERS AND BASICALLY GRABS FRAN’S ASS)

DANNY: Hey, babe.
FRAN: Danny, not in front of the customers.
DANNY: Okay. Betty, turn around.
FRAN: (PEELING HIS HANDS OFF) That’s Dottie, Danny.
DANNY: (ALWAYS THE SALESMAN) Oh yeah? Well, I’d
buy that dress. You look so good, I thought you
were Betty. (AND HE HEADS TO CASH REGISTER)
DOTTIE: Ya better get your hooks into Danny fast. A guy like him has his
pick of the litter.An entrepreneur with such a tush.
FRAN: Your Frank’s got that flat tush thing happening, doesn’t he?
DOTTIE: (DISAPPOINTED) Yeah…
FRAN: That’s appealing.
(DOTTIE HEADS OFF TO DRESSING ROOM)
FRAN: (CONT’D) Did I ever mention I hated that woman?
VAL: What are you talking about? She’s your cousin.
FRAN: Yeah, but she’s getting married before me.

(FRAN HEADS OVER TO THE CASH REGISTER WHERE
DANNY IS EATING HIS LUNCH)

DANNY: Hiya Babe, want some schwarma?

(A REAL CLASS ACT, HE DEMONSTRATES WHAT HE MEANS WITH
HIS HERO SANDWICH)

FRAN: No. I wanna talk.
DANNY: Okay, how about if us goes and has some schwarma?
FRAN: Are we ever going to get married?
DANNY: (NO) Yeah, you know I told you. What do you want me to say?
FRAN: How about ‘Here’s a ring. Pick a pattern.’ You’re just stringin’ me
along ‘cause I’m your best sales girl, aren’t you?
DANNY: Not true.
FRAN: Really…(CALLS TO DRESSING ROOM) Oh Dottie. I swear I must
have Altzheimers but did I mention that Dayna Schwartz bought the same
gown you’re wearing, and her wedding’s the week before yours… go
know.
DOTTIE (O.S) (SHOCKED Is she doin’ the sherbert color combo?
FRAN: (TO DANNY) Are you makin’ a commitment or what? (BACK TO
DOTTIE) Come to think of it. Dayna’s doin’ the lemon, lime, tangerine too.
DOTTIE (O.S.) CANCEL!
DANNY: What are you, pre-menstrual?
FRAN: No, I’m not even pre-engaged.
DANNY: There were nine bridesmaids and a flower girl in that party! I’ll
give you a commitment. You’re fired.
FRAN: Fired? Last night you said I was your reason for living.
DANNY: Personal is personal and business is business.
FRAN: What’s that supposed to mean?
DANNY: The offer’s still good on the schwarma.

(FRAN GRABS HIS HERO AND BREAKS IT IN HALF)

FRAN: You didn’t fire me, Danny. I quit…(SHE STALKS OFF, RETURNS)
No, you fired me. That way I can collect employment.

(VAL WALKS OVER AS FRAN GRABS HER THINGS)

VAL: All’s not lost. She still loves the earrings.

(DOTTIE’S EARS ARE STRETCHED FROM THE WEIGHT OF
THE CHANDELIERS ON HER LOBES)

FRAN: Honey, they’re to die for. (BEAT) Who cares if you end up with
lobes that hang like a Ubangi’s. (TO DANNY) Business is business, babe.
(SHE EXITS IN A HUFF)

VAL: What was that all about?
DANNY: Who know with that woman? So Val, you want some schwarma?

DISSOLVE TO:

ACT ONE – SCENE ONE

INT. TOWNHOUSE – SHURFELD LIBRARY
(MAXWELL SHURFELD IS A DASHINGLY HANDSOME 40ISH
BROADWAY PRODUCER. HE’S ALSO A WASP, AND WORSE YET, AN
ENGLISHMAN. SOMEWHAT OF A CONTROL FREAK, HE’S ALWAYS
MORE COMFORTABLE WHEN THINGS ARE GOING ACCORDING TO
PLAN. UNFORTUNATELY, SINCE THE SUDDEN DEATH OF HIS WIFE
LAST YEAR, HIS WORLD HAS BEEN TURNED UPSIDE DOWN. HE
STANDS IN THE LIBRARY OF HIS TOWNHOUSE ON THE UPPER EAST
SIDE OF MANHATTAN. HIS LADY FRIEND, C.C. BABCOCK, IS
PERCHED ON THE EDGE OF THE DESK READING ‘TOWN AND
COUNTRY.’ C.C.’S IN HER EARLY 40’S, A SMART ELEGANT
DIVORCEE WHO TOOK HER RATHER LARGE SETTLEMENT TO
DABBLE IN THE THEATER. ACTUALLY, C.C. HAD HER EYE ON
MAXWELL EVEN BEFORE HIS WIFE PASSED AWAY, BUT NO ONE
SUSPECTS FOUL PLAY, REALLY. MAXWELL IS ENGAGED IN A
HEATED TELEPHONE CALL)

MAXWELL: Now you tell me, how does one produce a musical without a
star?…Look if you can’t get Rita, get Chita! Or Liza. Or Pia. As long as
she can sing and her legs don’t look like road maps, we’ll both be very
wealthy men. (HE HANGS UP)
MAXWELL: (CONT’D) Oh, this is ducky. Half the money people in New
York will be at our backers party and we have a star vehicle without a star.
C.C.: Just tell them we’re in negotiations for Liz Taylor’s return to the
theater.
MAXWELL: (MOCK SHOCK) Deliberately mislead our investors? C.C.!
You’ve done this before.
C.C.: (COMING ON STRONG) But I want to do it with you, Maxwell.
Again and again.

(NILES, MAXWELL’S BUTLER, APPEARS. A MAN IN HIS 50’S, WITH A
DRY, SARCASTIC HUMOR, HIS AFFECTION FOR MAXWELL HAS
RECENTLY BEEN TEMPERED BY C.C.’S ARRIVAL. BASICALLY HE
HATES HER. AS C.C. LEANS IN, HOPING TO LAND A KISS, NILES
CLEARS HIS THROAT. THE MOMENT IS BROKEN)

MAXWELL: Yes, Niles. What is it?
NILES: Sorry to interrupt, sir. I see you’re working hard as always, Miss
Babcock.
C.C.: Theater has always been a passion of mine.
NILES: Yes and I can’t wait to see what you’ll be mounting next.
MAXWELL: Niles, Miss Babcock’s generous patronage and that of her
many wealthy friends is going to make my next production possible.
NILES: Well, three cheers for her and on with the show. I just thought I’d
inform you that the new nanny’s gone.
MAXWELL: What did Brighton do this time?
NILES: The fake suicide, sir. He perched on the balcony, threatening to
jump, and when the poor woman ran to summon me, he slid down the
bannister, and arranged himself spread eagle on the marble with a bit of
ketchup trickling out of his ears.

(C.C. GASPS)

NILES: (CONT’D) Quite theatrical, really. Worthy of one of your
productions. (HE EXITS)
MAXWELL: (CAN’T HELP BUT SMILE) Well, at least we know the boy’s
creative.
C.C.: Maxwell, need I remind you of tomorrow night’s importance? The last
thing we need is those children running loose. (THEN) Not that I don’t love
them as if they were my own.
MAXWELL: They’re not bad kids. They’re just not used to having a nanny.
C.C.: They’ve had five in the last six months!
MAXWELL: No, before that. When Sarah was alive.

(C.C. LOOKS AT PICTURE OF MAXWELL, SARAH, AND TWO HAPPY
CHILDREN)
C.C.: Yes, the woman was a saint, we all miss her. (THEN, WHEN
MAXWELL’S NOT LOOKING, SHE KNOCKS IT OVER CROSSING TO
HIM…)
C.C.: (CONT’D) Oh Maxwell. Dear, dear Maxwell. You’ve done
everything you can to be both a father and a mother to those kids, but face
facts – they need more attention than you alone can give them. (BEAT)
Have you thought about boarding school?
MAXWELL: C.C., they’re my children, not a musical. You can’t just
produce them, teach them a few catchy tunes, then send them on the road
until they work out the kinks.
C.C.: Then hire someone, Maxwell. Hire someone wonderful. But most of
all hire her before tomorrow night. (SHE GLANCES AT HER WATCH) Oh,
look at the time. My concern for your children has made me late for my
comb out with Mr. Kenneth.

CUT TO:

ACT ONE, SCENE TWO

EXT. SHURFELD TOWNHOUSE – CONTINUOUS
(ITS AN IVY-COVERED TOWNHOUSE ON A LOVELY STREET WHERE
THE SOUND OF CHIRPING BIRDS IS INTERRUPTED ONLY BY THE
CLIPPITY-CLOP OF THE HANSOM CAB THAT’S DRIVING BY. FRAN
COMES UP THE STAIRS CARRYING A LARGE SALESCASE, WORKING
AT LOSING HER ACCENT)

FRAN: Hello, I’m Fran Fine, your ‘Shades of the Orient’ cosmetics
representative. (AND GIVING UP) Oh, what a loser. Danny, I hope you get
Oh, what a loser. Danny, I hope you get a disease and die. (BEAT) No, I
hope you live and suffer.

(FRAN IS ABOUT TO RING THE BELL WHEN C.C. COMES OUT)

FRAN: Hello. Are you the lady of the house?
C.C.: Soon, dear.
FRAN: Yeah, that’s what Danny told me.
C.C.: (NOT WANTING TO GET TOO CLOSE TO HER) I see. You’re not
one of those ‘will work for food’ people, are you?
FRAN: I’m Fran Fine, your Shades of the Orient cosmetics representative.
C.C.: (ICILY) I don’t think so. (AND SHE STARTS OFF)
FRAN: (CALLS AFTER HER) Oh yeah? You’d be surprised what a little
blush would do to round out that pointy chin. (SHE PICKS UP HER
SALESCASE AND WHEN SHE LOOKS UP,NILES IS STANDING IN THE
DOORWAY) Hello.
NILES: Come in. We’ve been expecting you.
FRAN: You have?

INT. THE SHURFELD FOYER – CONTINUOUS
(IT’S A STUNNING NEW YORK TOWNHOUSE)

NILES: You are here for the Nanny position?
FRAN: (SIZING UP THE PLACE) I could be… Why don’t you fill me in a
little?

(THEY HEAD INTO THE LIVING ROOM)

FRAN: (CONT’D) Wow, this place is nicer than my Uncle Jack’s condo in
Bocca and ya know he bought the model.
NILES: The late Mrs. Shurfeld was a woman of impeccable taste.
FRAN: Late Mrs. Shurfeld? Are we talking habitually tardy or an incredibly
wealthy widower looking for a breast to lay his troubled head upon?

(NILES STARES IN AMAZEMENT)

FRAN: (CONT’D) Whatsa matter? Do I have lipstick on my teeth?
NILES: No, all’s clear. May I present your resume to the troubled Mr.
Shurfeld?
FRAN: Resume? Ya know what? Why don’t you go get Mr. Shurfeld and
I’ll do the resume presenting myself.
NILES: As you wish. (HE EXITS) This ought to be good.
FRAN: Resume, resume…

(SHE OPENS MAKE-UP CASE AND SCRIBBLES ONE OUT ON THE
BACK OF AN ORDER FORM WHEN BRIGHTON, MAXWELL’S 10 YEAR
OLD, COMES UP FROM BEHIND HER. BRIGHTON IS A BRILLIANT,
BUT RATHER HOSTILE YOUNG MAN WHO, DUE TO HIS MOTHER’S
DEATH, LEARNED AT AN UNFORTUNATELY EARLY AGE THAT LIFE’S
NOT ALWAYS FAIR)

BRIGHTON: Well, at least this one’s got a pair of legs.
FRAN: (TURNS AROUND AND LOOKS HIM OVER) What were you
expecting, flippers? (SHE SMOOTHES HER SKIRT OVER AND HER
SHAPELY FIGURE)
BRIGHTON: Who are you?
FRAN: Who are you?
BRIGHTON: I asked you first.
FRAN: Tough.
Brighton: Are you here for the Nanny job?
FRAN: I don’t know. Are you the kid I’d have to play with? What are you, a
psychopath? You got ketchup in your ears.
BRIGHTON: Shut up.
FRAN: You shut up.
BRIGHTON: You can’t talk to me like that. I’ll tell father not to hire you.
FRAN: And I’ll tell him you made a pass at me.
BRIGHTON: Okay, go ahead.

(FRAN LOOKS UP TO SEE THAT NILES HAS RETURNED WITH
MAXWELL, WHO HAS BEEN WATCHING THIS. AGAIN, SHE RESORTS
TO HER LAUGH)

FRAN: Mr. Shurfeld, I presume. Just joking with the lad.
BRIGHTON: She told me to shut up.
NILES: (ON HIS WAY OUT) I’d hire her for that alone.
MAXWELL: You’re early. The agency said three o’clock.
FRAN: The agency? Yeah, well, you know, I thought I’d come early to
have some time to bond with Brighton. And I think it’s going well.
BRIGHTON: I hate her.
MAXWELL: Now Brighton, let’s not be hasty.
FRAN: Yeah, I haven’t sung ‘Climb Every Mountain’ yet.
MAXWELL: (SMILES) May I see your resume, please?

(SHE HANDS HIM SCRIBBLED RESUME)

MAXWELL: Crayon?
FRAN: Eyebrow pencil. I just jotted down the highlights. My impressive
resumes are at the printer’s.
BRIGHTON: You can’t hire us another mother.
FRAN: Ooh, you’re a bitter little person. We’re going to get along great.
MAXWELL: (LOOKING OVER RESUME) Miss Fine, you’ve listed the
Queen Mother as a reference?
FRAN: Wha? No, no, no. That’s my mother from Queens. But she’s very
particular, too. You want me to fix that, I’ll need a little cold cream.

(BRIGHTON LAUGHS)

FRAN: Oh look, he laughs. It almost makes him look like a kid.

(GRACE, MAXWELL’S SIX YEAR OLD DAUGHTER, ARRIVES AT THE
FRONT DOOR WITH CHAUFFEUR EDMOND. SHE RUNS TO
MAXWELL AND HUGS HIM)

GRACE: Hi, Daddy.
MAXWELL: Hello darling. Thank you Edmond.
EDMOND: (EXITING) You’re welcome, sir. And I’m sure the play-do will
wash right out of the Bentley.
MAXWELL: (TO GRACE) How was therapy today darling?… Any
breakthroughs?
GRACE: Dr. Bort and I did some regression. She took me back through
my childhood.
FRAN: Must have been a quick trip.
GRACE: Oh you have no idea how complicated I am…
FRAN: You got your kids in therapy?
BRIGHTON: It was easier than talking to us directly.
MAXWELL: That’s enough, Brighton.
BRIGHTON: Yes, it was disrespectful of me. Perhaps I should go to my
room and think about how sorry I am while I sharpen my Nintendo skills.
Come on, Gracie. Let’s leave Father alone to interview another caretaker
for his problem children.

(THEY EXIT)

FRAN: Oy, do you have your hands full, mister!
MAXWELL: (STUNG) I’m sorry you had to see that. Niles will show you
out. (HE GETS UP TO LEAVE)
FRAN: What, that’s it? The interview’s over? One smart ass remark from
the kid and I don’t get the job? That’s not fair.
MAXWELL: Miss Fine, I don’t know how you got in here, but you can see
for yourself I need more help than can be provided by a door to door
cosmetics girl.
FRAN: Me? A cosmetics girl? Whatever gave you that idea? (RE: BAG)
This just says cosmetics. It’s actually a portable library of sophisticated
child-rearing manuals. Three on regression therapy alone.
MAXWELL: Please. Never try to con a con. I’m a theatrical producer.
(HE STARTS TO LEAVE)
FRAN: Well, Mr. Producer, I’m talking to you, sir. How many so called
experts have you had in here already?

(MAXWELL STOPS)
FRAN: (CONT’D) Me, I grew up in Queens. There’s nothing these kids
can throw at me I haven’t seen before.

(NILES ENTERS)

NILES: I’m terribly sorry, sir. There’s been some confusion. There’s a
woman at the door who actually is from the Nanny Institute.
FRAN: The Institute, very nice. I’m sure she’s the expert you’re looking
for.

(SHE PICKS UP HER BAG AND STARTS TO GO. SUDDENLY
FROM THE HALLWAY WE HEAR A BLOODCURDLING SCREAM AND
THE FRONT DOOR SLAMS. BRIGHTON WALKS BY WITH A NOOSE
AROUND HIS NECK)

BRIGHTON: I’m afraid she had to leave.
FRAN: (PUTS HER BAG DOWN) On the other hand…
MAXWELL: (DEFEATED) Do you have any experience with children?
FRAN: Are you kidding? I practically raised my sister’s kids when she was
suing her chiropodist.
NILES: You do need someone by tomorrow night, sir. Ms. Babcock was
rather explicit.
MAXWELL: This is highly irregular.
FRAN: So’s my Uncle Myron, but you know if we just give him a chance,
eventually everything comes out okay.
MAXWELL: All right, Ms. Fine. You’re hired. But only on a trial basis.
FRAN: Thank you, Mr. Shurfeld. You won’t regret it.

(SHE HUGS HIM THEN, REALIZING WHAT SHE’S DOING, BACKS OFF
AND SHAKES HIS HAND)

MAXWELL: Somehow I’m rather sure I will. Niles will show you to your
room. (MAXWELL EXITS)
FRAN: My room? The nanny lives here:?!
NILES: Is that a problem?
FRAN: Well, I am going to miss being twenty-nine years old and still living
with my parents, but hey, if it’s best for the children –
NILES: Twenty-nine?
FRAN: Don’t start with me, Niles.

(THEY HEAD OFF)

FADE OUT

END OF ACT ONE

ACT TWO, SCENE ONE

INT. SHURFELD DINING ROOM – BREAKFAST
THE NEXT MORNING

(MAXWELL AND THE CHILDREN ARE SEDATELY SEATED AT
TABLE EATING BREAKFAST. NILES POURS TEA. FRAN SWEEPS IN
IN HOUSECOAT AND SLIPPERS)

FRAN: Good morning everyone. Boy that jacuzzi tub really know how to
perk a girl up in the morning…(THEN, NOTICING THEY’RE ALL FULLY
DRESSED AND COIFED) Do you people sleep like that?
MAXWELL: We make it a habit to dress for breakfast.
FRAN: I see. Niles, you have to tell me these things.
NILES: I simply assumed…
FRAN: I’m from Flushing. Don’t assume anything. (SHE LOOKS
AROUND THE TABLE, SET WITH FINE CHINA, LITTLE SILVER TOAST
SERVERS, FRESH BUTTER CURLS AND DAINTY JARS OF
MARMALADE) So, where’s the bagels?
NILES: (SOTTO) Ixnay on the agelsbay.
FRAN: Thank you.

(NILES EXITS. FRAN WATCHES IN DISGUST AS MAXWELL DEFTLY
DE-CAPITATES HIS SOFT BOILED EGG WITH A STERLING SILVER
EGG DECAPITATOR, THEN SCOOPS OUT THE YELLOW,
GELATINOUS YOLK)

FRAN: (CONT’D) Umm, looks delish. So kids, what’s on for today? A
walk in the park, or should we just kick back and hang around the
mansion?
MAXWELL: Actually, an outing is a splendid idea. The caterers will need
the run of the house to prepare for this evenings gala.
FRAN: We’re having a gala? (TO GRACIE) I love a good gala. So what
are we wearing?
GRACE: (SADLY) We’re not invited.
BRIGHTON: And neither are you.
FRAN: Oh, come on. It’s your father’s party.

(O.S. A PHONE RINGS)
MAXWELL: Really, it’s more of a business thing.

(NILES ENTERS WITH PORTABLE PHONE)

NILES: Ms. Babcock for you…
MAXWELL: Hello? … CC darling, hold on. Let me take you in the library.
(TO THE OTHERS) I’m taking C.C. in the library. (AND HE EXITS)
GRACE: See, I told you. We never get to go to Daddy’s parties.
FRAN: We’ll see about that. Excuse me a minute. (SHE HEADS OUT)
NILES: He really hates to be disturbed when he’s taking C.C. in the library.

CUT TO:

ACT TWO. SCENE TWO

INT. LIBRARY – CONTINUOUS

MAXWELL: (ON THE PHONE) Oh, and better than good news, I hired a
Nanny. She’s a bit unusual, but I think she may be just what the children
need.

(FRAN POKES HER HEAD IN)

FRAN: Hi, it’s me. Could we have a word?
MAXWELL: I’m still on the phone.
FRAN: Good. Tell her to order more eggrolls.
MAXWELL: What are you talking about?
FRAN: Shiksas are notorious for not ordering enough food. Booze, yeah.
Food they don’t know from.
MAXWELL: C.C., let me put you on hold. Did you want something, Miss
Fine?
FRAN: Please, call me Fran. We’re living together. Look, I don’t want to
overstep my bounderies the first day, but then I figure why wait ‘til
tomorrow? The little pishers want to come to your party.
MAXWELL: I beg your pardon.
FRAN: Your kids. They’re feeling left out.
MAXWELL: I told you, it’s business. I’m trying to woo backers for my next
show.
FRAN: Oh, I see, it’s a wooing thing. Well, as you might imagine, I’ve had
my share of wooers. And the first thing I want to know is, who the hell is
this guy? Do I trust him? Now I ask you, who’s not going to trust a Dad
who brings his kids to the party?
MAXWELL: I don’t think C.C. would like it.
FRAN: We’ll get to her later. Come on, they show up
for five minutes in freshly pressed pajamas, make a little ‘my he’s so bright,
he’s only ten’ small talk, maybe get a scrap of pastry and I whisk them off
to bed. Your investors see you’re a family man and your kids get to be a
part of your life.
MAXWELL: I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm.
FRAN: You won’t be sorry. (SHE STARTS OUT) Are you coming?
MAXWELL: Let me finish this call.

(HE PICKS UP RECEIVER. SHE PUTS IT DOWN.)

FRAN: That’s another thing. Where I come from meal time is family time.
You sit around the table, you yell and scream and throw things. That way
everyone knows they love each other.
MAXWELL: You’re right. You are overstepping your boundaries.
FRAN: Okay, maybe. (SHE DOESN’T LEAVE)
MAXWELL: Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming on?
FRAN: No ‘buts.’ However… you hired me to tell you
what the children need. A father’s a good starter.
MAXWELL: I’ll be right in. (TO PHONE) I’ve got to get back. I’ll see you
tonight. (HE HANGS UP AND EXITS BACK INSIDE)
FRAN: Yeah, C.C., see ya! (AND SHE FOLLOWS)

CUT TO:

ACT TWO. SCENE THREE

EXT. DANNY’S 4 BRIDES – ESTABLISHING

INT. BRIDAL BOUTIQUE – CONTINUOUS

(VAL IS HANGING UP SOME DRESSES WHEN FRAN ENTERS WITH
THE KIDS)

FRAN: Val –
VAL: Fran, what are you doing here?
FRAN: Where’s Danny?
VAL: I don’t know. I think he’s getting his back waxed.
GRACE: Look at all the dresses! They’re just so incredibly tacky.
BRIGHTON: Hey, are these dummies anatomically correct?
FRAN: What do you care, you’re ten years old? Now do me a favor, be
normal. (TO VAL) I need something for tonight. (SHE STARTS RIFLING
THROUGH THE RACKS) I’ve got a little gala to go to.
VAL: So this new job is great, huh?
FRAN: It’s like livin’ at Caesar’s Palace.
VAL: So that’s great.
FRAN: Yea. (HOLDING UP DRESS, LOOKING IN MIRROR)
What do you think?
VAL: I think it’s great you’re great. This way you won’t be upset if Danny
starts going out with someone else.
FRAN: Whadda ya know?
VAL: Whadda ya mean?
FRAN: You know what I mean. I want her name.
VAL: It’s only a rumor. Forget it.
FRAN: (TO GRACE) What do you think?
GRACE: She’s holding out on you.
BRIGHTON: I’m hungry. Aren’t nannies supposed to feed you when
you’re hungry?
FRAN: Here’s a Tic-Tac. (BACK TO VAL) So who the hell is this tramp?
VAL: Who cares? You’re better off without him. I mean look, you got this
great new job.
FRAN: I know her, don’t I?
VAL: You got a great boss.
FRAN: I’ll kill her, won’t I?
VAL: And tonight you’ve got a great party. This whole break up thing’s like
a mitzvah in disguise.
FRAN: You’re right.
VAL: So who cares if Danny’s taking her to Puerto Rico?

(OFF FRAN’S REACTION, WE…)

DISSOLVE TO:

ACT TWO. SCENE FOUR

EXT. SHURFELD TOWNHOUSE – THAT NIGHT

INT. SHURFELD TOWNHOUSE – CONTINUOUS

MUSIC: SONDHEIM’S ‘HI-HO THE GLAMORUS LIFE’ FROM ‘A
LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC’

(A GALA PARTY IS IN PROGRESS. THE MEN ARE IN TUXEDOS.
THE WOMEN ALL IN LITTLE BLACK DRESSES AND PEARLS. THE
MUSIC IS BEING SUNG BY AN A CAPPELLA TRIO OF ATTRACTIVE
BROADWAY CHORUS PEOPLE. C.C. SUCKS UP TO THE
VANDENBERGS, AN ELDERLY, VERY WEALTHY LOOKING COUPLE.
SHE’S A WARM, GRANDMOTHERLY TYPE. HE’S A MISER.)

C.C.: Mr. And Mrs. Vandenberg. How nice to see you.
MRS. VANDENBERG: Hello, C.C. dear.
MR. VANDENBERG: You don’t have to kiss her, she just wants our
money.
C.C.: Oh, Edgar, you’re tighter than bark on a tree.
MR. VANDENBERG: Not tight, dear. Just careful. How much do we really
know about this Shurfeld chap?
C.C.: Just that he’s a brilliant theatrical producer with a string of hits
reaching back to his beginnings in the West End of London. But I’ll let the
Tony’s speak for themselves.

(C.C. SCANS THE ROOM FOR HER NEXT VICTIM. MAXWELL COMES
UP FROM BEHIND)

MAXWELL: Has anyone told you how handsome you look this evening?
C.C.: Oh Maxwell, you’re such a flirt? It’s going rather well, don’t you
think?
MAXWELL: It’s perfect. The food is exquisite, the music divine, and the
guests obscenely wealthy. Oh, and by the by, I must thank you for your
incessant insistence that I hire a new nanny.
C.C.: (HER EYES STILL SCANNING THE PARTY) I’m always here for
you, Maxwell. Doesn’t Mrs. Frigand look marvelous? My surgeon, of
course.
MAXWELL: I think it’s good to broaden the children’s horizons. Did you
know this afternoon Gracie braised me a brisket?
C.C.: A brisket? What on earth are you babbling about?
MAXWELL: The new nanny.
C.C.: Yes, she’s doing a wonderful job. I haven’t seen the children all
evening.
MAXWELL: They’re getting dressed. They’ll be down in a minute.
C.C.: What?
MAXWELL: Fran thought it would be nice to include them.
C.C.: Who’s Fran?
MAXWELL: The new nanny. Haven’t you been listening?

(NILES COMES OVER)

NILES: The children are ready.
MAXWELL: Thank you, Niles. (TO THE ROOM) Friends, friends, may I
have your attention?

(THE PARTY BUZZ QUIETS DOWN)

MAXWELL: (CONT’D) I’d like to thank you all for coming here this evening.
I hope you’ll make yourselves at home, enjoy the food and champagne and
take this opportunity to get to know more about me and my theatrical
history. I’m certainly looking forward to knowing more about you and your
checkbooks. (POLITE LAUGHTER) Now before the evening gets any later
I’d like to introduce the two greatest productions of my life… my dear
children.

(THE CHILDREN APPEAR AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS AND START
COMING DOWN. AS PROMISED, THEY’RE ADORABLE IN THEIR
FRESHLY PRESSED PAJAMAS. THE PARTY AW’S APPRECIATIVELY.
C.C. IS MORTIFIED)

C.C.: (THROUGH CLENCHED TEETH) Are you out of your mind?
MAXWELL: Don’t worry, the nanny’s right behind.

(FRAN APPEARS AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS. HER OFF THE
SHOULDER BRIDESMAID’S DRESS FROM THE ROSENBERG-
HOROWITZ WEDDING IS A LITTLE OUT OF PLACE, BUT YOU’VE GOT
TO ADMIT IT DOES SET OFF HER CLEAVAGE NICELY. THE PARTY
MURMURS IT’S SHOCKED REACTION)

C.C.: That’s not a nanny. It’s the Avon lady. (SHE SHIFTS INTO
DAMAGE CONTROL, PUSHING A NEARBY WAITER) Pour. (THEN, TO
THE TRIO) Sing.

(THE TRIO SINGS, ‘BROADWAY BABY’ AS FRAN DESCENDS THE
STAIRS. C.C. AND MAXWELL COME OVER. GRACE JUMPS IN
MAXWELL’S ARMS AND GIVES HIM A BIG KISS)

GRACE: Daddy!

(SHE LOOKS VERY HAPPY TO BE HERE. EVEN BRIGHTON HAS
LOST SOME OF HIS SURLINESS)

BRIGHTON: Not a bad crowd, Dad. Where’d you get All the Tony
awards?
MAXWELL: Some are mine, some I borrowed. The ones in back are
bowling trophies.
BRIGHTON: Nice touch.
C.C.: Okay, this was a lovely family moment. Now, off to bed.
FRAN: Oh, it’s you. Hello, again. (THEN, SOTTO) The chin looks great.

(C.C. TURNS HER BACK ON FRAN)

C.C.: (SOTTO TO MAXWELL) Get rid of her. (AND SHE STORMS OFF)
MAXWELL: C.C. – (HE PUTS GRACIE DOWN AND TURNS TO FRAN)
Just get them a cookie and keep a low profile.
FRAN: I’m sure I’ll blend right in. Come on kids, lets find a little nosh.

(THEY HEAD OFF. MAXWELL FINDS C.C. FUMING)

C.C.: Maxwell, how could you? She’s going to ruin this party.
MAXWELL: Okay, I’ll admit I should have checked her wardrobe. But you
know, on her, it works.

(FRAN LEANS OVER THE BUFFET TABLE)

MAXWELL: (CONT’D) My God, that dress defies the laws of physics.
C.C.: I can’t believe I’m hearing this.
MAXWELL: (REALIZING HOW DEEP HE’S IN) And your dress is nice,
too. I said that.
C.C.: Handsome. You said min was handsome.

ACROSS THE ROOM

(VANDENBERG IS PEERING AT THE TONYS OVER THE TOP OF HIS
BIFOCALS)

MR. VANDENBERG: Very impressive. And what are these back here?

(BRIGHTON SCOOTS OVER TO DIRECT HIS ATTENTION TO THE
ARTWORK. FRAN FOLLOWS WITH A PLATE OF COOKIES AND
GRACE.)

BRIGHTON: Have you noticed my father’s collection of primitive art? This
one is early Mesopotamian. The so-called cradle of civilization.
MRS. VANDENBERG: My, he’s only ten, how bright he is.
BRIGHTON: (PICKING UP ANOTHER OBJECT) Whereas these
distinctive markings clearly indicate it’s Mayan.
FRAN: (TO MR. VANDENBERG) Well, you know what they say – what’s
Mayan is yours.

(HER DISTINCTIVE LAUGH RESOUNDS THROUGH THE ROOM. C.C.
BLANCHES)

C.C.: Maxwell, she’s talking to the Vandenbergs.
MAXWELL: So?
C.C.: So, stop her.

BACK TO:

FRAN: No kidding. Your entire family came over on the Mayflower? I’ve
wanted to trace my family tree, but my Grandmother said when we landed
on Ellis Island they changed everybody’s last name and now we don’t know
who the hell we are.
MAXWELL: Ms. Fine?
FRAN: He’s lost without me. (SHE TURNS TO MAXWELL) You needed
something?
MAXWELL: (TRYING TO PUT A GOOD FACE ON IT) I think maybe it is
time we went to bed.
FRAN: Okay, Mr. S., but I’m going to have to charge you extra. (SHE
WINKS AT VANDENBERG, WHO LAUGHS. MAXWELL IS FLUSTERED)
MAXWELL: No, I meant –
FRAN: (TO VANDENBERG) You can always trust you money with a man
who blushes. Come on kids, shluffy time.

(THEY HEAD OFF)

MAXWELL: Mr. Vandenberg, I can explain. (THEN, WITH A LITTLE
LAUGH) No, actually, I can’t –

(C.C. SCURRIES OVER)

C.C.: She’s a temporary nanny. The regular girl had to…have an
operation. (GRASPING AT STRAWS) It was… her kidneys. She didn’t
have any.

(VANDENBERG HASN’T BEEN LISTENING. HE’S BEEN WATCHING
FRAN CROSS THE ROOM)

MR. VANDENBERG: I like her. (TO MAXWELL) If your casting choices are
half as creative as your selection of a nanny, you can count on my support.
(THEN TO HIS WIFE) Let’s eat.

(THEY HEAD OFF. MAXWELL GIVES C.C.A VICTORIOUS SMILE.)

MAXWELL: And you were worried.
C.C.: She’s not up the stairs yet.

(SUDDENLY VAL BURSTS IN THE FRONT DOOR, VERY UPSET)

VAL: Where’s Fran?… Fran? (SHE SPOTS HER) I just gotta tell ya the
truth or I’m gonna die. I’m the one who’s been dating Danny.
FRAN: And you thought if you didn’t tell me you were gonna die? How
could you be so two-faced?
VAL: Well, you two already broke up. So I figured…Fran, I’m sorry. I
haven’t had sex in three years!

(THE PARTY HAS COME TO A GRINDING HALT. EVERYONE IS
STARING AT THEM)

C.C.: I hate to say I told you so.
MAXWELL: (QUITE TENSE) Then why are you always doing it?

(MAXWELL WALKS OVER TO FRAN AND VAL)

MAXWELL: Ladies, um… could you continue this in the library?
FRAN: Ya see Val, you’re disturbing our party guests. (TO MAXWELL)
She’s got no polish. (TO VAL) Come on, move your ass.

(FRAN SLAMS THE LIBRARY DOOR. THE FIGHT CONTINUES
IN THE LIBRARY WHICH IS SEPARATED FROM THE LIVING
ROOM BY LARGE GLASS DOORS. WE CAN SEE EVERYTHING
THAT IS GOING ON BUT CAN’T HEAR A WORD. IT’S TURNING
INTO A SERIOUS CATFIGHT AND A CROWD IS BEGINNING TO
GATHER)

C.C.: Maxwell, do something.
MAXWELL: What do you suggest?
C.C.: Shoot them.

(MAXWELL OPENS THE DOOR AND WE CATCH A WORD OF THE
ARGUMENT)

FRAN: BITCH!

(HE QUICKLY SHUTS IT)

C.C.: Maxwell, this party is the crowning achievement of a lifetime of social
climbing. I will not let that woman ruin it. Either she goes or I do.
NILES: (PASSING BY) Do I get a vote?

(MAXWELL STANDS THERE A BEAT, THEN WITH DETERMINATION,
OPENS THE DOOR)

MAXWELL: Ladies!!

(THEY STOP IN MIDDLE THROTTLE AND LOOK AT HIM)

MAXWELL: (CONT’D) You’ll have to leave now.
FRAN: Yeah, Val. You’re not welcome here.

(MAXWELL JUST STARES AT HER)

FRAN: (CONT’D) Wha--? Me, too?
MAXWELL: I’m afraid this isn’t working out.

(NEARBY, C.C. ALLOWS HERSELF A LITTLE SMILE. MAXWELL
CONTINUES QUIETLY, THIS ISN’T EASY FOR HIM) You’re fired.
FRAN: That’s alright, you don’t have to fire me. I ruined your party, I’ll quit.
(SHE GIVES MAXWELL A LONG LOOK AND EXITS. BEAT. SHE
RETURNS.) No, you fire me. This way I can collect unemployment.

(SHE EXITS, LEAVING MAXWELL ALONE IN THE LIBRARY DOOR.
C.C. SIGNALS THE TRIO TO SING)

MUSIC: ‘I’VE GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO HER FACE’

DISSOLVE TO:

ACT TWO/SCENE FIVE

EXT. AN APARTMENT BUILDING IN QUEENS –

NIGHT – ESTABLISHING

INT. SYLVIA AND MORTY’S APARTMENT –

(FRAN IS WATCHING T.V. IN A PLASTIC-COVERED RECLINER,
SERIOUSLY DEPRESSED. SYLVIA, HER MOTHER, A ZAFTIG WOMAN
IN HER MID 50’S, ENTERS WEARING A HOUSE DRESS AND
SLIPPERS. HER HAIR IS WRAPPED WITH TOILET PAPER)

SYLVIA: Do you need a Mallomar Fran?
FRAN: No Ma, food’s not the answer to everything.
SYLVIA: Meanwhile your father and I have based our entire relationship
around food. Passion goes,, sex goes, communication we never had, but
food is forever. (SHE YELLS INTO THE BACK BEDROOM) Morty? You
want some more Mallomars?
FRAN: Ma, Daddy can’t hear you. He’s watching the game… Why can’t I
find a guy like him? Deaf and on a pension!
SYLVIA: You will.
FRAN: Oh Ma, I’m so humiliated. I can’t believe I was fired.
SYLVIA: Twice!
FRAN: What’d you do, take sadist pills today? I already feel like a loser.

SFX: DOORBELL

(FRAN GOES TO ANSWER IT)

SYLVIA: Nobody’s a loser… except all your father’s second cousins…

(FRAN OPENS THE DOOR TO REVEAL BRIGHTON)

FRAN: Brighton, what are you doing here?
BRIGHTON: (STRANGELY CASUAL) It seems I’ve run away from home.
FRAN: What’d you do that for?
BRIGHTON: You know me. Just another desperate plea for attention.
(RE: MALLOMARS) Mmm, those look good.
SYLVIA: Help yourself.

(FRAN SHOOTS HER A LOOK. SHE SHRUGS)

FRAN: I’m calling your father. He must be worried sick.
BRIGHTON: Don’t bother. I imagine he’s on his way.
FRAN: What, you run away and leave a forwarding address?
SYLVIA: I thought you said the girl was cute, the boy was smart.
FRAN: He is smart. (TO BRIGHTON) What are you up to?
BRIGHTON: What makes you think I’m up to something? (HE PLOPS
DOWN ON THE SOFA, STRETCHES OUT CASUALLY THEN…)
BRIGHTON: (CONT’D) Why do you have plastic on your furniture?
FRAN: It’s a cultural thing.. Now get your feet off the table and tell me
what’s going on in that warped little head of yours.
BRIGHTON: Look, me personally, I’m too old to have a nanny. But Gracie
seemed to enjoy the whole brisket experience and I think you’re good for
father. As you would say, his life needs a swift kick in the tuchkas.
SYLVIA: What kind of family is this you’re working for?
FRAN: So what? You think your father’s going to walk in here, beg me to
come back and we’re all going to live happily ever after?

SFX: DOORBELL

BRIGHTON: I got him here. The rest is up to you.

(SYLVIA GOES TO ANSWER DOOR)

FRAN: (TO BRIGHTON) Don’t get your hopes up. Your Father and
I come from very different worlds. I mean if I were him, and I hired me…
Ah, I’d be thrilled, who’s kiddin’ who?

(SYLVIA OPENS DOOR TO REVEAL MAXWELL)

SYLVIA: (TURNS BACK TO FRAN) Ooh, he’s cute.
MAXWELL: I’m terribly sorry to disturb you.
SYLVIA: No one’s disturbing anyone. Come on in, I’ll make some
Ovaltine. (SCREAMS) Morty, you want some Ovaltine? Morty, Morty?! Ah,
forget it.
MAXWELL: Brighton you had me worried sick.
SYLVIA: Kids, nothing but tsuris. This one, such
heartburn she gave me. What do you need? Donatol? Tagamint? Gas X?
FRAN: Ma, do me a favor. Take Brighton in the kitchen.
SYLVIA: All right, come on. I’ll introduce you to the next love of your life --
Entemann’s nonfat streusel swirl. (THEY HEAD OUT. AS SHE PASSES
FRAN, SHE WHISPERS…) Put on some blush.
FRAN: Look the kid shouldn’t have run away but this gives me a chance to
apologize for ruining your party. I did ruin it, didn’t I?
MAXWELL: Let’s just say you broke it up before we ran out of eggrolls.
FRAN: What can I say, sometimes I get emotional. You know what
emotions are, those things you feel inside that aren’t your kishkas.
MAXWELL: I have emotions. Right now I’m very distraught.
FRAN: Well, break out the Kleenex. My life falls apart, I get a little crazy. I
come from a long line of screamers. You, your wife dies, your kids are
a mess and for the life of me, I can’t find a hair out of place.
MAXWELL: (ANGRY, BUT HEARTFELT) Would you feel better if I broke
down and sobbed? Is that what you want to see? Tears in my tea because
the light in my life went out the day Sarah died? Shall I cry in my crumpets
at the terror I feel as my children withdraw further and further into
themselves? I’m sorry, Miss Fine, I come from a long line of stiff upper lips.
We just don’t express those things publicly.
FRAN: (GENTLY) You just did.
MAXWELL: Yes, but in a round-about way.
FRAN: It still counts.

(THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER A BEAT)

MAXWELL: Well, that’s that then, isn’t it? (CALLS) Come along, Brighton,
time to go.

(BRIGHTON AND SYLVIA RETURN FROM KITCHEN. BRIGHTON
LOOKS AT FRAN, SHE SHRUGS, SADLY, BRIGHTON HEADS OUT.
MAXWELL FOLLOWS, THEN STOPS AT THE DOOR)

MAXWELL: Are you going to get your things or what?

(FRAN LOOKS AT HIM AND SMILES. THEN, BACK TO NAGGING)

FRAN: That’s it? No fanfare? No I need you? The kid’s not even going to
hug me? (SHE THINK ABOUT IT A BEAT) All right. (SHE GRABS HER
SUITCASE AND THEY EXIT)
SYLVIA: Morty, he took her back. Morty, Morty! Ah, forget it.

FADE OUT

END ACT TWO

*Webmaster's note: As you can see, this script went through a lot of changes before the final version. Some of which were, Shurfeld became Sheffield. The actor they cast for Niles, was younger than they had pictured in the beginning. And they added another child, Margaret.