123
pages
English
Documents
1996
Le téléchargement nécessite un accès à la bibliothèque YouScribe Tout savoir sur nos offres
123
pages
English
Ebook
1996
Le téléchargement nécessite un accès à la bibliothèque YouScribe Tout savoir sur nos offres
Publié par
Publié le
01 janvier 1996
Nombre de lectures
7
Licence :
Langue
English
Publié par
Publié le
01 janvier 1996
Nombre de lectures
7
Licence :
Langue
English
by
Shane Black
REVISED DRAFT
February 24, 1995
A WINDOWPANE
Assaulted from without by SNOWFLAKES. Wind tossed.
INSIDE, a bed, dappled with moon shadow. A LITTLE GIRL, fast asleep. The wind whistles and sighs outside. She DREAMS... Eyelids closed, eyes roving beneath... then suddenly they SNAP open. A stifled cry. She thrashes for her STUFFED BEAR, as a soft voice says:
Shhhhh.
And there's MOM, kneeling beside her. Vague shape in the dimness. The full moon throws light across one sparkling eye.
Mommy, the men on the mountain...!
Shhhh. Gone, all gone now. (strokes her hair) I'm here. Mommy's always here and no one can ever hurt you. Safe now... safe and warm... snug as a bug in a rug. (beat) I'll sit with you, think you can sleep?
Turn on the nightlight.
The mother nods. Passes her left hand gently over the girl's forehead.
Close your eyes now. I love you.
The child subsides, breathing steady. Eyes closed. The mother rises. Regards her through the dimness. Slowly turns, heads for the door. Flicks on a Winnie the Pooh NIGHTLIGHT --
Her entire right forearm is slicked with blood. More blood on her Czech-made MP-5 machine gun.
She staggers just a little... barely noticeable. Passes out on the light. Into darkness. Sits beside her daughter's bed. The child sleeps peacefully. Outside snow slithers at the glass.
FADE OUT. Pause. Blackness.
FADE IN:
It's snowing in southwestern Ohio. Before us, nestled in the rolling hills: a postcard slice of suburbia. SUPER the legend:
Three Weeks Earlier.
Peaceful. Serene. It's the town in the glass bubble, the one God shakes to watch it snow...
EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - DAY
CHILDREN, dozens of them, bursting from houses. Slapping of screen doors. A HORSE-DRIVEN SLEIGH is rattling down Main Street. Flanked by kids. Christmas carols, droning from loudspeakers.
HAPPY, LAUGHING SANTA waves howdy, chortling his "Ho's" in groups of three, meanwhile he's really a grizzled old fire marshall named EARL, freezing his nuts off.
Beside him sits MRS. CLAUS, about whom we notice two things: First, she's the June in this June/December pair -- and second, she's to kill for, an effortlessly beautiful woman. For the record, meet SAMANTHA CAINE.
How you holdin' up?
Freezing my nuts off.
Santa produces a bottle of Seagrams. Starts to open it.
*Put that away*.
Earl complies, grumbling. Some teenage burnouts howl from a street corner:
Ow! Mrs. Claus is HOT!
Samantha squirms in her seat, scowling.
I can't take it, Earl, this dumb costume is giving me a wedgie. Driving me crazy, but there's these *kids* here --
Right, you don't wanna be rootin' --
In front of little Billy, age four, yeah. "Look, Mommy, Mrs. Claus chooses to go butt-mining."
This is little Billy talking?
Age four, kid's unbelievable. (sighs) I'm too old for this, Earl.
Yeah, yeah. Spare me, I got a prostate the size of a melon.
Samantha stares at him.
Seriously, half my life's a doctor's hand up my ass, I should marry the fucker.
Say that a little louder, there's a kid in back didn't catch it.
It's not that fucking little Billy again, is it?
SERIES OF SHOTS:
Throughout the following NARRATION, we watch Sam: 1) Rallying the varsity CHEERLEADERS; 2) Showing off a GERBIL to her seventh graders; 3) Kneeling in church with her HUSBAND, blessing herself; 4) Absently fingering a silver KEY which she wears round her neck; and finally 5) Probing at a tiny ridged SCAR under her hairline.
Eight years. I keep hiring detectives, but they never find anything. (beat) I was born 3000 days ago on the beach in New Jersey. I entered the world fully grown, wearing clothes I don't remember buying. Nothing in the pockets but a single key, filed smooth. (beat) I'm married now. Nice guy, early forties. I stand naked in the mirror and try to guess my age. Thirty-five, maybe. I have lots of scars.
EXT. SNOWY SUBURBAN STREET - AFTERNOON
Samantha walks with her husband HAL. Late thirties. Balding. Coming out of St. Paul's Episcopal Church.
Hal, I gotta tell you, of all the Christmas pageants I've seen, this was by far the most recent.
Aw, honey, I had teenage girls playing the wise men, what'd you expect?
Teenage boys?
Well, I thought they did fine.
Just fine? Come on, it was ground breaking stuff. The first Nativity where Joseph stares at the wise men's tits all night.
She hugs him good-naturedly. As they near their house, an eight year-old GIRL drops from a TREEHOUSE and comes running, leaps into Mommy's arms --
Hey, you!
The kid leaps into her arms, as we HEAR:
Her name is Caitlin. She's my daughter and when I woke up on that long-ago day, she was two months grown in my belly. I don't know who put her there. I may never. I just know she's mine, and she's about to turn eight.
The family troops up the driveway to their SUBURBAN HOME. Chipper little A-frame. Christmas lights abound. Behind the house, a vast frozen POND. It is idyllic.
INT. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL - NIGHT
PARTY in progress. Laughter. Mingling. In the corner, CAITLIN puts pipe cleaner antlers on the gerbil. Samantha shepherds her home room class past the punchbowl. She is radiant. EARL surreptitiously nips from a silver flask.
3000 days. I teach now, fifth grade. I have the key, I wear it around my neck for luck. Except for that, and my name, all traces of my prior life are lost. (beat) Was I in love ever...? Did someone look in my eyes, did I say, "Darling, I'll never forget you...?" (beat) Because fuck me, darling, I managed.
ACROSS THE ROOM -- Her daughter CAITLIN hangs with two young girls. Shows off a plush TEDDY BEAR, says:
His name is Mr. Perkins, my Mom named him for me.
GIRL #1 points, whispers excitedly:
GIRL #1 That's her?
Caitlin nods. Kid #2:
GIRL #2 That's who?
GIRL #1 (excitedly) Her Mom, she's got amnesia.
GIRL #2 Swear?
Swear.
GIRL #2 Too weird.
A voice interrupts their reverie:
Excuse me.
The girls whirl around, startled -- Samantha is leaning on the desk behind them. Busted. She smiles amiably:
Hello, girls. Caitlin, I'm going to help Dad with the refreshments. (leans in, whispers) Which one's Dad? I forget.
The girls look at her like she's grown a tail.
*Kidding*.
CUT TO:
A DOOR KICKED OPEN, WHAM-! Splintered. Lock shattered.
INT. MOTEL ROOM - AKRON, OHIO - NIGHT
A NUDE COUPLE on the bed. They look up, startled -- as three men burst through the door. The LEADER: a haggard-looking man sporting a soup-stain on his tie, whoops, that's the design, sorry. MITCH HENESSEY, private investigator and con man extraordinaire. He flashes a phony badge:
POLICE. DON'T MOVE.
What the hell is this...?!!
Don't give me an attitude, sir. You're assuming I won't shoot your sorry ass, and everyone knows when you make an assumption, you make an ass out of u and mption. I'm Sergeant Madigan, Vice, and if you cop a 'tude, jerkoff, I will see to it you spend the next ten years in prison getting ass-fucked, and if the case is thrown out because my arrest is too violent, then I will personally HIRE men to ass-fuck you for ten years. So if you're an ass-fucking fan, go ahead and mouth off, but meanwhile you're under arrest for the crime of prostitution, now shut the fuck up before I cut out your kneecaps and use 'em as ashtrays. (beat) Officer Donleavy, read him his rights.
Donleavy looks pale, pasty. He stutters a few words. Loses interest. Wanders away across the room.
(a trifle confused)
Please, this is my first, I... I've never done this before, I'll do anything...!
Sir, listen to me. I understand you're not a wealthy man, but in light of the damage this arrest will cause you, we might be able to make an arrangement --
Donleavy plops in a chair. Belches. Grins foolishly. The man in bed points to him:
Is he all right...?
THE REMAINING COP is swaying on his feet. Like a tree in a hurricane. Donleavy pukes all over the floor. We CUT TO:
INT. BARREN GREY OFFICE - NIGHT
THERE'S THE GIRL. The one in bed moments ago. She and Henessey are dividing a wad of bills.
We gotta stop using bums.
(lights a smoke)
Forget it. They looked like cops. We pulled it off, didn't we?
It was embarrassing.
You want I should hire actors, for Chrissake? These guys are cheap, they work for food.
Uh-huh. So, when they puke all over you is that, like, a refund?
Trin, I'm pissin' myself over here, you're so funny. What's this?
He indicates an envelope earmarked for him. Labeled in magic marker: SAMANTHA CAINE.
New case, honest to God chick with amnesia. You want the job?
Henessey opens the envelope. Extracts a black and white HEAD SHOT of Samantha, says immediately:
Yep. Yep, yep, yep.
Stares, mesmerized. Trin peers over his shoulder:
Wasn't there a lady on TV named Samantha? Had a magic nose or something.
'Bewitched', yeah. Good show. Chick lived with a faggy guy, then in the last season it was a different faggy guy. Okay. Here's what we do; get on the horn to amnesia chick, tell her yes. Then tell her in 1967 she promised to give me a blow job. Worth a try, right?
EXT. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL - NIGHT
SAMANTHA and HAL bid goodnight to their friends and neighbors. Hal steers her away from a middle-aged teacher.
Christ, guy's all over you like a cheap suit.
That's funny, there's a cheap suit all over him like a cheap suit.
She notices EARL sitting in the bushes by the side of the building. He is speaking intently to the gerbil.
Oh, boy. Someone's gotta take my father home. I'm plowed.
Samantha takes the keys from him. Breathes deeply of the chill night air. Smiling. Surveys the scene... their friends. The neighborhood. Sighs:
This is all I ever wanted.
At which point, young Caitlin says:
How would you know?
ESTABLISHING SHOT - STATE PRISON - OHIO - NIGHTTIME
Switch gears: A grim, grey building. Guarded. Patrolled.
INT. PRISON - TELEVISION VIEWING ROOM - EVENING
A tired TV set drones to an audience of one. Let's call him ONE-EYED JACK. In fact, let's give him one eye, the other replaced by a PATCH. He smokes cigarettes, stubs them out on the chair's armrest. Throws offhand glances at the TV screen.
...So much for the flame-swallowing Santa of Boone County. Meanwhile, KTVA news journeyed to Upper Sandusky, where Santa's own *Mrs*. Kringle turned out to celebrate her hubby's worldwide tour. After one look at her, I'm thinking Santa got what he wanted this Christmas.
The happy news chatter continues. Jack isn't listening. Jack isn't talking or breathing either. He's simply STARING at the TV screen, jaw slack...
Gotta be fuckin' kidding. No. No way. SHIIIT!!
He SCREAMS as we CUT TO:
EXT. WOODLANDS - WITH SAMANTHA - DRIVING
If you had to pick a night to die horribly, you'd be hard pressed to find a nicer one. A country highway. Bathed in moonlight. Crusted with snow. Pontiac Sunbird, wending its way through the wooded slopes.
INT. SUNBIRD - SAME TIME
SAMANTHA drives while Earl (the SANTA we saw earlier) reclines, still drunk.
You're married what now, five years...?
He makes a thumb circle. Jabs his finger in and out of it:
You and Hal, how often you two...?
Stick our fingers in out hands and pull them out again? Every chance we get. Shut your piehole.
Don't get all snippy...
Earl, do me a favor. Every few words say "hic" and have bubbles come out your mouth, okay?
Goddamnit, I'm not drunk. Would a drunk man have this much raw talent?
He starts playing the Hawaiian nose harp. In Sam's ear, she can't help it, snorts laughter --
THE ADULT DEER appears perfectly framed in the Sunbird's headlights. Dead ahead. Sam looks up, face etched in sudden TERROR. *No time to think*. SWERVES, no dice...! BROADSIDES the animal --
And it comes THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD. All two hundred and fifteen pounds of it. Fucks up their night altogether. Actually, it only makes it *halfway* through --
But the damn thing is ALIVE. More than alive. KICKING. Thrashing. Squawling with pain and rage. A FLAILING HOOF takes out Earl. Kills him in less than a second. Collapses his skull.
Sam rides the wheel, screaming. An antler gouges her chest. Rips. Draws blood. She SWERVES, madly -- Hits the tree doing 50.
ANOTHER ANGLE
Sam goes airborne. Explodes through the windshield, outward bound. Shower of glass, spritz of blood... And then she's flying. Slow motion, end over end... We lose all SOUND. Silence as she tumbles. Below and behind her, the Sunbird noiselessly ERUPTS. Fireball, sky high --
Sam floating. Describes a lazy arc in mid-air... Whoomph-! Disappears into the snow. Swallows her, leaves a silhouette. Around her, trees catch fire. Burn. She lies in her impromptu sarcophagus. Out of sight.
THE FLAMING DEER totters from the wreck, thrashing. Scene from a nightmare. Nightmare part two: from the snow, from the human-shaped divot -- arises a woman of blood.
She stumbles from the drift. Toward the wreck. And though it's clearly Sam Caine under all that crimson, there's something wrong about her *eyes*.
En route to the car, she kneels beside the suffering deer, its flesh scorched and torn -- and KILLS it. Puts it away with a sharp CRACK-!ing blow to the head. Stands, eyes squirming with madness...
The car's an inferno. Earl is dead. She turns away, wiping blood from her eyes -- Comes face to face with a SNOWMAN.
A jolly white fellow. Charcoal briquettes for eyes. She watches, fascinated, as he MELTS in the blast furnace heat -- With warning, she *screams*. Crumples to the ground.
The snowman's eyes fall out. He melts away and away...
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - AKRON, OHIO - TWILIGHT
Elsewhere. Tract housing, late-model cars. MITCH HENESSEY delivers a Christmas gift to his nine year-old son TODD: not just any gift, the *Midtown Saturn Orbiting Precinct*, with action figures. Henessey points to the box, engrossed:
...and here's the jail here, see...? Escape chute for the Borian, he's a dinosaur guy, Moves quick, don't take no shit neither. See, you can make him shoot the guard -- ah, hell, look, I played with it a little myself, I'm sorry.
VOICE interrupts them:
TODD, TIME FOR DINNER. NOW.
An awkward pause. Henessey scowls.
Hey, you go ahead, um... hope you like the present.
It's awesome, Dad. Mom, though, she... (sighs) She gets weird. On my birthday, when you gave me the Schwinn... she called bicycle stores to see if there'd been any robberies.
Henessey manages to control his face. Says tightly:
Tell her I don't steal them locally.
He watches, forlorn, as his son vanishes inside the house. Christmas lights, blinking feebly. We HEAR, supered:
Dear Ma: Filled out the child support stuff last week. Office got pissed, under ex-spouse I put "Spawn of Satan, Dweller in Eternal Dark." Just being honest, Ma, lady wants me to die.
As he reaches his car, his BEEPER goes off.
EXT. PHONE BOOTH - MINUTES LATER
Henessey on the phone. Dials. Waits. We HEAR: