The Apartment (1960)
A:      C. C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon)

A:      On November 1st, 1959, the population of New York City was 8,042,783.  If you laid all these people end to end, figuring an average height of five feet six and a half inches, they would reach from Times Square to the outskirts of Karachi, Pakistan.  I know facts like this because I work for an insurance company - Consolidated Life of New York.  We're one of the top five companies in the country. Our home office has 31,259 employees, which is more than the entire population of uhh... Natchez, Mississippi.  I work on the 19th floor. Ordinary Policy Department, Premium Accounting Division, Section W, desk number 861.  My name is C.C. Baxter, C for Calvin, C for Clifford.  However, most people call me Bud.  I've been with Consolidated for 3 years and 10 months and my take home pay is 94.70 a week. [sound of Baxter's calculating machine] The hours in our department are 8:50 to 5:20. [ringing to signal end of the business day] They're staggered by floors so that 16 elevators can handle the 31,259 employees without a serious traffic jam.  As for myself I very often stay on at the office and work an extra hour or two especially when the weather is bad.  It's not that I'm overly ambitious.  It's just a way... a way of killing time until it's all right for me to go home.  You see, I have this little problem with my apartment. [next scene outside his apartment] I live in the West Sixties, just a half a block from Central Park.  My rent is $85 a month.  It used to be eighty until last July when Mrs. Lieberman, the landlady, put in a second-hand air conditioning unit.  It's a real nice apartment, nothing fancy but kind of cozy, just right for a bachelor.  The only problem is I can't always get in when I want to. 

Stalag 17 (1953)
A:      Clarence Harvey 'Cookie' Cook (Gil Stratton)  

A:      I don't know about you, but it always makes me sore when I see those war pictures... all about flying leathernecks and submarine patrols and frogmen and guerillas in the Philippines.  What gets me is that there never w-was a movie about P.O.W.'s, about prisoners of war.  Now, my name is Clarence Harvey Cook.  They call me Cookie.  I was shot down over Magdeborg, Germany, back in '43.  And that's why I stammer a little once in a while, especially when I get excited.  I spent two and a half years in Stalag 17.  "Stalag" is the German word for prison camp, and number 17 was somewhere on the Danube.  There were about 40,000 P.O.W.'s there, if you bothered to count the Russians, and the Poles, and the Czechs.  In our compound, there were about 630 of us, all American airmen: radio operators, gunners, and engineers.  All sergeants. Now, you put 630 sergeants together and, oh, mother, you've got yourself a situation. There was more fireworks shooting off around that joint... take, for instance the story about the spy we had in our barracks.  It was about a week before Christmas in '44 and 2 of our guys, Manfredi and Johnson to be exact, were just getting set to blow the place. 

Sunset Boulevard (1950)
A:      Joe Gillis (William Holden)

A:      Yes, this is Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles, California.  It's about 5:00 in the morning.  That's the homicide squad, complete with detectives and newspapermen.  A murder has been reported from one of those great big houses in the 10000 block.  You'll read about it in the late editions, I'm sure.  You'll get it over your radio and see it on television because an old-time star is involved, one of the biggest, but before you hear it all distorted and blown out of proportion, before those Hollywood columnists get their hands on it, maybe you'd like to hear the facts, the whole truth.  If so, you've come to the right party.  You see, the body of a young man was found floating in the pool of her mansion with two shots in his back and one in his stomach.  Nobody important, really.  Just a movie writer with a couple of "B" pictures to his credit.  The poor dope-- he always wanted a pool.  Well, in the end, he got himself a pool, only the price turned out to be a little high.  Let's go back about six months and find the day when it all started.  I was living in an apartment house above Franklin and Ivar.  Things were tough at the moment.  I hadn't worked in a studio for a long time.  So I sat there, grinding out original stories, two a week, only I seemed to have lost my touch.  Maybe they weren't original enough.  Maybe they were too original.  All I know is... they didn't sell.                      

Sabrina (1954)
A:      Sabrina Fairchild (Audrey Hepburn)

A:      Once upon a time, on the north shore of Long Island, some 30 miles from New York, there lived a small girl on a large estate.  The estate was very large indeed and had many servants.  There were gardeners to take care of the gardens, and a tree surgeon on a retainer.  There was a boatman to take care of the boats: to put them in the water in the spring, and scrape their bottoms in the winter.  There were specialists to take care of the grounds: the outdoor tennis court and the indoor tennis court, the outdoor swimming pool and the indoor swimming pool.  And there was a man of no particular title who took care of a small pool in the garden for a goldfish named George.  Also on the estate, there was a chauffeur by the name of Fairchild, who had been imported from England, years ago, together with a new Rolls Royce.  Fairchild was a fine chauffeur of considerable polish, like the eight cars in his care, and he had a daughter by the name of Sabrina.  It was the eve of the annual six meter yacht races, and as had been tradition on Long Island for the past 30 years, the Larrabees were giving a party.  It never rained on the night of the Larrabee party, the Larrabees wouldn't have stood for it. There were four Larrabees in all: father, mother and two sons. Maude and Oliver Larrabee were married in nineteen hundred and six and among their many wedding presents was a townhouse in New York and this estate for weekends.  The town house has since been converted into Saks Fifth Avenue.  Linus Larrabee, the elder son, graduated from Yale, where his classmates voted him the man Most Likely to Leave his Alma Mater Fifty Million Dollars.  His brother, David, went through several of the best eastern colleges for short periods of time, and through several marriages for even shorter periods of time.  He is now a successful six-goal polo player, and is listed on Linus's tax return as a six hundred dollar deduction.  Life was pleasant among the Larrabees, for this was as close to heaven as one could get on Long Island.

The opening is not entirely original.  Below is the original version from the play, "Sabrina Fair" by Samuel Taylor. 

Once upon a time,
In a part of America called the North Shore of Long Island,
Not far from New York,
Lived a very small girl on a very large estate.
The house on the grounds had many rooms, and many servants,
And in the garage were many cars,
And out on the water were many boats.
There were gardeners in the gardens,
And a chauffeur to drive the cars,
And a boatman who hauled out the boats in the fall
And scraped their bottoms in winter
And put them back in the spring.
From the windows of her room
The girl could look out on an indoor tennis court
And an outdoor tennis court; an indoor swimming pool
And an outdoor swimming pool
And a pool in the garden for goldfish.
Life was pleasant here,
For this was about as close to heaven
As one could get on Long Island.
But then one day the girl grew up
And went beyond the walls of the grounds
And found the world.

One, Two, Three (1961)
A:      C. R. MacNamara (James Cagney)

A:      On Sunday, August 13th, 1961, the eyes of America were on the nation's capital, where Roger Maris was hitting home runs number 44 and 45 against the Senators.  On that same day, without any warning, the East German Communists sealed off the border between East and West Berlin.  I only mention this to show the kind of people we're dealing with - real shifty.  Having been stationed in Berlin and having dealt with them, I know what I'm talking about.  Let's go back to last June.  Considering the abnormal situation of a divided city, life in Berlin was more or less normal.  Traffic flowed freely through the Brandenburg Gate, and it wasn't really too much trouble to pass from one side of the Iron Curtain to the other.  Some of the East German police were rude and suspicious.  Others were suspicious and rude.  The Eastern sector, under Communist domination, was still in rubble, but the people went about their daily business... parading.  [singing of the paraders] These constant provocations failed to provoke the Western Berliners.  They were too busy rebuilding.  The Western sector, under Allied protection, was peaceful, prosperous, and enjoyed all the blessings of democracy.  Just by coincidence,  this happens to be the company I work for. 

Love in the Afternoon (1957)
A:      Claude Chavasse (Maurice Chevalier) 

A:      This is the city, Paris, France.  It is just like any other big city, London, New York, Tokyo, except for two little things.  In Paris, people eat better, and in Paris, people make love... well, perhaps not better, but certainly more often.  They do it any time, any place - on the left bank... on the right bank... and in between.  They do it by day, and they do it by night.  The butcher, the baker and the friendly undertaker.  They do it in motion... they do it sitting absolutely still.  Poodles do it...  tourists do it... generals do it.  Once in a while, even existentialists do it.  There is young love... and old love.  Married love... and illicit love.  That is where I come in.  My name is Claude Chavasse.  I am what you would call a private eye.  It was Monday, June 11, 6:15 A.M.  I had been working the night watch on the Place Vendome outside the Ritz Hotel.  In order to protect the innocent, I will call this the case of Madame X.  Of course, she was not entirely innocent.  While Monsieur X was attending a business conference in London, she was conferring nightly in Suite 14 of the Ritz.  8:45 A.M.  I arried at number 17 Rue Mallebranche.  This is where I live.  This is also where I have my office.  It is a very quiet neighborhood.  My clients prefer it this way. [greets a woman outside the building] It is a neat, normal life we have here.  There is just myself, my daughter, and her cello.

The Seven Year Itch (1955)
A:     Narrator 

A:     The island of Manhattan derives its name from its earliest inhabitants, the Manhattan Indians.  They were a peaceful tribe, setting traps, fishing, hunting.  And there was a custom among them.  Every July, when the heat and the humidity on the island became unbearable, they would send their wives and children away for the summer, up the river to the cooler highlands or, if they could afford it, to the seashore.  The husbands, of course, would remain behind on the steaming island to attend to business, setting traps, fishing, and hunting.  Actually, our story has nothing whatsoever to do with Indians.  It plays 500 years later. [train announcement] We only brought up the subject to show you that, in all that time, nothing has changed.  Manhattan husbands still send their wives and kids away for the summer, and they still remain behind in the steaming city to attend to business, setting traps, fishing, and hunting.  Now we want you to meet a typical Manhattan husband whose family is leaving for the summer.  This is Mr. Richard Sherman.  This is his wife Helen and his son Ricky.