The Shawshank Redemption

The Shawshank Redemption

The Shawshank Redemption is a 1994 film about a banker named Andy Dufresne, who is accused of double murder in the 1940s and begins a life sentence at the fictional Shawshank prison, where he be friends an older inmate named Red. During his long stretch in prison, Dufresne comes to be admired by the other inmates for his upstanding moral code and his quietly indomitable spirit.

Genre: Crime, Drama
Director(s): Frank Darabont
Year:
1994
2,421 Views

[A new group of prisoners has arrived at Shawshank, Andy Dufresne among them, and the convicts are "going fishing", taunting the new prisoners and making bets on who will break down crying first.]

Heywood:
Hey, Fat Ass. Fat Ass! Talk to me boy! I know you're there. I can hear you breathin'. Don't you listen to these nitwits, you hear me? This place ain't so bad. Tell you what, I'll introduce you around, make you feel right at home. I know a couple of big old bull queers that'd just love to make your acquaintance. Especially that big, white, mushy butt of yours.

Fat Ass:
Oh, God. I don't belong here!

Inmate:
We have a winner!

Heywood:
And it's Fat Ass, by a nose! Fresh fish! Fresh fish!

Prisoners:
[Chanting] Fresh fish! Fresh fish! Fresh fish! Fresh fish!

Fat Ass:
I wanna go home! I want my mother!

Inmate:
I had your mother, she wasn't that great!

[A door on the ground floor opens, and Captain Byron Hadley and several guards walk onto the cell block.]

Byron Hadley:
What the Christ is this happy horseshit?!

Prisoner:
You took the Lord's name in vain; I'm telling the Warden!

Byron Hadley:
You'll be telling 'im with my baton up your ass!

Fat Ass:
You gotta let me outta here! You gotta!

Byron Hadley:
What is your malfunction, you fat barrel of monkey-spunk?

Fat Ass:
Please... I ain't supposed to be here. Not me!

Byron Hadley:
I ain't gonna count to three. I'm not even gonna count to one; you will shut the f*** up or I will sing you a lullaby!

Heywood:
[now nervous, under his breath] Shut up, man. Shut up.

Fat Ass:
You've made a mistake! You don't understand, I'm not supposed to be here!

Byron Hadley:
Open that cell!

Inmate:
Me neither! They run this place like a f***ing prison!

[The cell door is opened, and Captain Hadley grabs Fat Ass and drags him out into the middle of the first floor of the cell block. Taking out his baton, Hadley savagely beats the new inmate.]

Byron Hadley:
Son of a b*tch.

Inmate:
Cap, take it easy.

[Finally, Fat Ass is beaten into unconsciousness. The inmates, who had been shouting and cheering when the guards first arrived, are now silent.]

Byron Hadley:
[Putting away his baton] If I hear so much as a mouse fart in here the rest of the night, I swear by God and sonny Jesus you will all visit the infirmary. Every last motherf***er in here! [To his men] Call the trustees, take that tub of sh*t down to the infirmary.

[Captain Hadley and the guards leave the cell block, and the lights go off again.]

Red:
His first night in Shawshank Prison, Andy Dufresne cost me two packs of cigarettes. He never made a sound.

Norton:
I want every man on this cellblock questioned. - Start with that friend of his.

Haig:
Open 237.

Norton:
What do you mean he just wasn't here? Don't say that to me, Haig. Don't say that to me again.

Haig:
But, sir, he wasn't.

Norton:
[yelling] I can see that, Haig! Think I'm blind? That's what you say? Am I blind, Haig?

Haig:
No, sir!

Norton:
What about you? [turning to Byron] Are you blind? Tell me what this is.

Byron:
Last night's count.

Norton:
[pointing at the clipboard] You see Dufresne's name there? I sure do. See right there. Dufresne! [walks around] He was in the cell at lights out. Stands to reason he'd still be here in the morning! I want him found NOW! Not tomorrow, not after breakfast, NOW!

Haig:
Yes, sir! [walks out of the cell] Come on. Move your butts. MOVE IT!

Byron:
[shows Red to enter] Stand.

Norton:
[talking to Red] Well?

Red:
[confused] Well what?

Norton:
I see you together all the time. Thick as thieves, you were. He must have said something.

Red:
No, Mr. Warden. Not a word.

Norton:
Lord, it's a miracle! Man up and vanished like a fart in the wind! Nothing left but [grabs Andy's stone figures] damn rocks on the windowsill. And that cupcake on the wall [points at the poster] . Let's ask her. Maybe she knows. What say there, fuzzy britches? Feel like talking? Aw, guess not. Why should she be any different? [talking quietly] This is a conspiracy. That's what this is. [louder] ONE - BIG - DAMN CONSPIRACY [Norton throws stone figures at Red, Byron and other guards]! AND EVERYONE'S IN ON IT! Including her! [throws a stone figure at a poster, which goes through; Norton, surprised, pushes his finger, then his entire arm through the hole in the poster, tears it off the wall, and gasps as he sees the tunnel dug in the wall]

[Opening lines, during Andy's trial]

District Attorney:
Mr. Dufresne, describe the confrontation you had with your wife the night that she was murdered.

Andy:
It was very bitter. She said she was glad I knew, that she hated all the sneaking around. And she said that she wanted a divorce in Reno.

District Attorney:
What was your response?

Andy:
I told her I would not grant one.

District Attorney:
"I'll see you in hell before I see you in Reno." Those were the words you used, Mr. Dufresne, according to the testimony of your neighbors.

Andy:
If they say so. I really don't remember; I was upset.

District Attorney:
What happened after you argued with your wife?

Andy:
She packed a bag... she packed a bag to go stay with Mr. Quentin.

District Attorney:
Glenn Quentin, golf pro at the Snowden Hills Country Club, the man who you had recently discovered was your wife's lover. Did you follow her?

Andy:
I went to a few bars first. Later, I drove to his house to confront them. They weren't home, so I parked in the turnout, and waited.

District Attorney:
With what intention?

Andy:
I'm not sure. I was confused... drunk. I think, mostly I wanted to scare them.

District Attorney:
When they arrived, you went up to the house and murdered them.

Andy:
No, I was sobering up. I went back in the car, and I drove home to sleep it off. Along the way, I stopped and I threw my gun into the Royal River; I feel I've been very clear on this point.

District Attorney:
Well, where I get hazy is where the cleaning woman shows up the following morning and finds your wife in bed with her lover, riddled with .38 caliber bullets. Now, does that strike you as a fantastic coincidence, Mr. Dufresne, or is it just me?

Andy:
Yes, it does.

District Attorney:
Yet you still maintain that you threw your gun into the river, before the murders took place. That's very convenient.

Andy:
It's the truth.

District Attorney:
The police dragged that river for three days, and nary a gun was found. So there can be no comparison made between your gun, and the bullets taken from the bloodstained corpses of the victims. And that also, is very convenient. Isn't it, Mr. Dufresne?

Andy:
Since I am innocent of this crime, sir, I find it decidedly inconvenient that the gun was never found.

District Attorney:
[addressing the court] Ladies and gentlemen, you've heard all the evidence, you know all the facts. We have the accused at the scene of the crime, we have tire tracks, we have bullets strewn on the ground that bear his fingerprints. A broken bourbon bottle, likewise with fingerprints, and most of all, we have a beautiful young woman and her lover, lying dead in each other's arms. They had sinned. But was their crime so great as to merit a death sentence? Now while you think about that, consider this: a revolver holds six bullets, not eight. I submit that this was not a hot-blooded crime of passion; that at least could be understood if not condoned. No. This was revenge of a much more brutal, cold-blooded nature. Consider this: four bullets per victim. Not six shots fired, but eight. That means that he fired the gun empty, and then stopped to reload, so that he could shoot each of them again... an extra bullet per lover, right in the head.

Judge:
You strike me as a particularly icy and remorseless man, Mr. Dufresne. It chills my blood to look at you. By the power vested in me by the State of Maine, I hereby order you to serve two life sentences back-to-back, one for each of your victims. So be it. [bangs gavel]

Andy:
I'm Andy Dufresne.

Red:
Wife-killing banker. Why'd you do it?

Andy:
I didn't, since you ask.

Red:
[chuckles] You're gonna fit right in. Everybody in here's innocent. Didn't you know that? [calling out to Heywood] Heywood, what you in here for?

Heywood:
Didn't do it. Lawyer f***ed me.

Red:
Rumor has it you're a real cold fish. You think your sh*t smells sweeter than most. Is that right?

Andy:
What do you think?

Red:
To tell you the truth, I haven't made up my mind.

Andy:
I understand you're a man that knows how to get things.

Red:
I'm known to locate certain things from time to time.

Andy:
I wonder if you might get me a rock hammer.

Red:
A what?

Andy:
A rock hammer.

Red:
What is it and why?

Andy:
What do you care?

Red:
Well, if it was a toothbrush, I wouldn't ask questions, I'd just quote a price. But then a toothbrush is a non-lethal object, isn't it?

Andy:
Fair enough. A rock hammer is about six or seven inches long, looks like a miniature pickax.

Red:
Pickax?

Andy:
For rocks.

Red:
Rocks? [Andy hands him a rock] Quartz?

Andy:
Quartz. [stoops down to pick up some more rocks] And some mica, shale, limestone.

Red:
So?

Andy:
So I'm a rock hound. At least I was in my old life. I'd like to be again on a limited basis.

Red:
Or maybe you'd like to sink your toy into somebody's skull.

Andy:
No, sir. No, I have no enemies here.

Red:
No? Wait a while. Word gets around. The Sisters have taken quite a liking to you. Especially Bogs. [indicates Bogs, who is watching Andy from the bleachers]

Andy:
Don't suppose it would help any if I explained to them I'm not homosexual.

Red:
Neither are they. You'd have to be human first. They don't qualify. Bull queers take by force. That's all they want or understand. But if I were you, I'd grow eyes in the back of my head.

Andy:
Thanks for the advice.

Red:
Well, that's free. You understand my concern.

Andy:
Well, if there's any trouble, I won't use the rock hammer. Okay?

Red:
Then I'd guess you want to escape. Tunnel under the wall, maybe. [Andy chuckles] Did I miss something here? What's so funny?

Andy:
You'll understand when you see the rock hammer.

Red:
What's an item like this usually go for?

Andy:
Seven dollars in any rock and gem shop.

Red:
My normal markup's 20%. But this is a specialty item. Risk goes up, price goes up. Let's make it an even ten bucks.

Andy:
Ten it is.

Red:
Waste of money, if you ask me.

Andy:
Why's that?

Red:
Folks around here love surprise inspections. They find it, you're gonna lose it. If they do catch you with it, you don't know me. You mention my name, we never do business again. Not for shoelaces or a stick of gum; now you got that?

Andy:
I understand. Thank you, Mr...?

Red:
Red. Name's Red.

Andy:
Red. Why do they call you that?

Red:
Maybe it's because I'm Irish.

[Inmates are working on the roof of the prison plate factory spreading tar; as they are, Byron Hadley is talking to some of the other guards]

Byron Hadley:
So, this big-shot lawyer calls me long-distance from Texas. I say, "Yeah?" He says, "Sorry to inform you, but your brother just died."

Youngblood:
Oh, damn. Byron, I'm sorry to hear that.

Byron Hadley:
I'm not. He was an a**hole. Ran off years ago. Figured him for dead anyway. So anyway, this lawyer fellow says to me, "Your brother died a rich man. Oil wells and sh*t. Close to a million bucks.

Trout:
A million bucks?

Byron Hadley:
Yeah, f***in' incredible how lucky some a**holes get.

Trout:
Jeez-Louise, you gonna see any of that?

Byron Hadley:
Thirty-five thousand. That's what he left me.

Trout:
Dollars?

Byron Hadley:
Yup.

Trout:
Holy sh*t! That's great! That's like winning the sweepstakes! Isn't it?

Byron Hadley:
Dumb sh*t, what you think the government's gonna do to me? Take a big, wet bite out of my ass is what.

Heywood:
Poor Byron. Terrible f***in' luck, huh?

Red:
Crying shame. Some people really got it awful. [Red glances over to see Andy looking in the guards' direction, listening to them talk] Andy, are you nuts? Keep your eyes on your mop, man!

Trout:
[continues talking to Hadley] Well, all right. You're gonna pay some tax, but you'll still end up...

Byron Hadley:
Oh, yeah, yeah. Maybe enough to buy a new car, and then what? I gotta pay tax on the car. Repair, maintenance, goddamn kids pestering you to take them for a ride all the time. Then at the end of the year, you figure the tax wrong, you gotta pay 'em out of your own pocket. I tell you, Uncle Sam. He puts his hand in your shirt and squeezes your tit till it's purple.

[Andy, still listening, starts walking in Hadley's direction.]

Red:
Andy. Andy!

Floyd:
Gettin' himself killed.

Heywood:
Keep tarrin'.

Byron Hadley:
Some brother. Sh*t.

Youngblood:
[sees Andy approaching, points and c*cks his rifle] Hey!

Andy:
Mr. Hadley, do you trust your wife?

Byron Hadley:
[pulls out his baton] Oh, that's funny. You're gonna look funnier suckin' my dick with no teeth.

Andy:
What I mean is, do you think she'd go behind your back, try to hamstring you?

Byron Hadley:
That's it. Step aside, Mert, this f***er's having himself an accident!

[Hadley grabs Andy by the collar of his shirt and begins dragging him towards the edge of the roof.]

Heywood:
He'll push him off the roof!

Andy:
Because if you do trust her, there's no reason you can't keep that thirty-five thousand!

Byron Hadley:
[stops, holding Andy over the edge of the roof] What did you say?

Andy:
Thirty-five thousand.

Byron Hadley:
Thirty-five thousand?

Andy:
All of it.

Byron Hadley:
All of it?!

Andy:
Every penny.

Byron Hadley:
You better start making sense.

Andy:
If you want to keep all that money, give it to your wife. The IRS allows a one-time-only gift to your spouse for up to sixty-thousand.

Byron Hadley:
Bullshit! Tax free?

Andy:
Tax free. IRS can't touch one cent.

Byron Hadley:
You're that smart banker what killed his wife, aren't you? Why should I believe a smart banker like you? So I can wind up in here with you?

Andy:
It's perfectly legal, go ask the IRS; they'll say the same thing. Actually, I feel stupid telling you this. I'm sure you would've investigated the matter yourself.

Byron Hadley:
Yeah, f***in' A'! I don't need no smart, wife-killin' banker to tell me where the bear sh*t in the buckwheat!

Andy:
Of course not. But you do need someone to set up the tax-free gift for you. That'll cost you. A lawyer, for example.

Byron Hadley:
Bunch of ball-washing bastards!

Andy:
Right. I suppose I could set it up for you. That would save you some money. If you get the forms, I'll prepare them for you, nearly free of charge. I'd only ask three beers apiece for each of my co-workers.

Trout:
[chuckles] "Co-workers"! Get him! That's rich, ain't it?

Andy:
I think a man working outdoors feels more like a man if he can have a bottle of suds. That's only my opinion... sir.

Byron Hadley:
[turns to the other inmates] What are you jimmies starin' at?! Back to work!

Heywood:
Let's go, work!

[The inmates resume their work. Hadley glares back at Andy but says nothing and releases his grip on him and pushes him back towards the others.]

Red:
[about Norton] He's got his fingers in a lot of pies, from what I hear.

Andy:
What you hear isn't half of it. He's got scams you haven't even dreamed of. Kickbacks on his kickbacks. There's a river of dirty money running through this place.

Red:
Yeah, but the problem with having all that money is sooner or later, you're gonna have to explain where it came from.

Andy:
Well, that's where I come in. I channel it, filter it, funnel it. Stocks, securities, tax free municipals. I send that money out into the real world and when it comes back...

Red:
Clean as a virgin's honeypot, huh?

Andy:
Cleaner. By the time Norton retires, I'll have made him a millionaire.

Red:
If they ever catch on, though, he'll wind up in here wearing a number himself.

Andy:
Oh, Red, I thought you had more faith in me than that.

Red:
I know you're good, Andy, but all that paper leaves a trail. Now, anybody gets curious, FBI, IRS, whatever, it's gonna lead to somebody.

Andy:
Sure it is, but not to me, and certainly not to the Warden.

Red:
All right, who?

Andy:
Randall Stevens.

Red:
Who?

Andy:
The "silent" silent partner. He's the guilty one, Your Honor, the man with the bank accounts. It's where the filtering process starts. They trace anything, it's just gonna lead to him.

Red:
But who is he?

Andy:
He's a phantom, an apparition. Second cousin to Harvey the Rabbit. I conjured him, out of thin air. He doesn't exist, except on paper.

Red:
Andy, you just can't make a person up.

Andy:
Sure you can, if you know how the system works, where the cracks are. It's amazing what you can accomplish by mail. Mr. Stevens has a birth certificate, driver's license, Social Security number.

Red:
You're shitting me.

Andy:
If they ever trace any of those accounts, they're gonna wind up chasing a figment of my imagination.

Red:
[smiles] Well, I'll be damned. Did I say you were good? Sh*t, you are Rembrandt.

Andy:
You know, the funny thing is, on the outside, I was an honest man, straight as an arrow. I had to come to prison to be a crook.

Norton:
[after Andy tells him Tommy could prove Andy's innocence] I have to say, that's the most amazing story I ever heard. What amazes me most is that you were taken in by it.

Andy:
Sir?

Norton:
Well, it's obvious this fellow Williams is impressed with you. He hears your tale of woe and quite naturally, wants to cheer you up. He's young, not terribly bright. Not surprising he wouldn't know what a state he put you in.

Andy:
Sir, he's telling the truth.

Norton:
Well, let's say for the moment this Blatch does exist. You think he'd just fall to his knees and cry "Yes, I did it, I confess! Oh, and by the way, add a life term to my sentence."

Andy:
You know that wouldn't matter. With Tommy's testimony I can get a new trial.

Norton:
Well, that's assuming Blatch is still there. Chances are excellent he'd be released by now.

Andy:
Well they'd have his last known address, names of relatives. It's a chance, isn't it? [Norton shakes his head] How can you be so obtuse?

Norton:
What? What did you call me?

Andy:
Obtuse. Is it deliberate?

Norton:
Son, you're forgetting yourself.

Andy:
The country club will have his old time cards. Records, W-2s with his name on them.

Norton:
Dufresne, if you want to indulge this fantasy, that's your business. Don't make it mine. This meeting is over.

Andy:
Sir, if I ever get out, I'd never mention what happens here. I'd be just as indictable as you for laundering that money.

Norton:
[slams his fist on the table, stands angrily] Don't you ever mention money to me again, you sorry son of a b*tch; not in this office, not anywhere! [presses buzzer on his desk] Get in here!

Andy:
I was just trying to set your mind at ease, that's all. Sir, I didn't--

Norton:
[as guards enter] Solitary. A month!

Guard:
Yes, sir. [grabs Andy] Come on!

[The guards start to drag Andy out of the office]

Andy:
What's the matter with you?

Norton:
Get him out of here.

Andy:
This is my chance to get out! Don't you see that?! It's my life! Don't you understand?! My life!

Norton:
Get him out! GET HIM OUT!

Andy:
My wife used to say I'm a hard man to know. Like a closed book. Complained about it all the time. She was beautiful. God, I loved her. I just didn't know how to show it, that's all. I killed her, Red. I didn't pull the trigger. But I drove her away. And that's why she died, because of me. The way I am.

Red:
[sits next to Andy] That don't make you a murderer. A bad husband, maybe. Feel bad about it if you want to, but you didn't pull the trigger.

Andy:
No, I didn't. Somebody else did. And I wound up in here. [scoffs] Bad luck, I guess.

Red:
[sighs] Yeah.

Andy:
It floats around. It's got to land on somebody. It was my turn, that's all. I was in the path of the tornado. [sighs] I just didn't expect the storm would last as long as it has. Think you'll ever get out of here?

Red:
Me? [sighs] Yeah, one day when I got a long, white beard and two or three marbles rolling around upstairs, they'll let me out.

Andy:
I tell you where I'd go. Zihuatanejo.

Red:
Say what?

Andy:
Zihuatanejo. It's in Mexico. A little place on the Pacific Ocean. You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific?

Red:
No.

Andy:
They say it has no memory. That's where I want to live the rest of my life. A warm place with no memory. Open up a little hotel, right on the beach, buy some worthless old boat, and fix it up new. Take my guests out charter fishing.

Red:
Zihuatanejo.

Andy:
In a place like that, I could use a man that knows how to get things.

Red:
I don't think I could make it on the outside, Andy. I been in here most of my life. I'm an institutional man now. Just like Brooks was.

Andy:
Well, you underestimate yourself.

Red:
I don't think so. In here, I'm the guy who can get things for you, sure, but outside all you need is the Yellow Pages. Hell, I wouldn't know where to begin. Pacific Ocean? Sh*t. Might scare me to death, something that big.

Andy:
Not me. I didn't shoot my wife, and I didn't shoot her lover. Whatever mistakes I made, I've paid for them and then some. That hotel, that boat, I don't think that's too much to ask.

Red:
I don't think you ought to be doing this to yourself, Andy. This is just shitty pipe dreams. I mean, Mexico is way the hell down there and you're in here, and that's the way it is.

Andy:
Yeah, right. That's the way it is. It's down there and I'm in here. I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy livin' or get busy dyin'. [stands to leave]

Red:
Andy.

Andy:
Red. If you ever get out of here, do me a favor.

Red:
Sure, Andy. Anything.

Andy:
There's a big hayfield up near Buxton. You know where Buxton is?

Red:
Well, there's... there's a lot of hayfields up there.

Andy:
One in particular. It's got a long rock wall with a big oak tree at the north end. It's like something out of a Robert Frost poem. It's where I asked my wife to marry me. We went there for a picnic and made love under that oak and I asked and she said yes. Promise me, Red. If you ever get out... find that spot. At the base of that wall, you'll find a rock that has no earthly business in a Maine hayfield. Piece of black, volcanic glass. There's something buried under it I want you to have.

Red:
What, Andy? What's buried under there?

Andy:
You'll have to pry it up... to see.


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