MEET JOHN DOE



Written by Robert Riskin



based on a story by Richard Connell and Robert Presnell









Ext. Bulletin Office - Sidewalk.



Close-up: Of a time-worn plaque against

the side of a building. It reads:





THE BULLETIN



"A free press for a free people."



While we read this, a pair of hands

come in holding pneumatic chisel which

immediately attacks the sign. As the

lettering is being obliterated,



Dissolve to: Close-up: A new plaque

on which the lettering has been changed

to:



THE NEW BULLETIN



"A streamlined newspaper for a streamlined

era."



Cut to: Int. Bulletin outer office.

Full shot: Of a mid-western newspaper

office.



Med. shot: At a door at which a sign-painter

works. He is painting HENRY CONNELL's

name on the door. It opens and a flip

office boy emerges. The painter has

to wait until the door closes in order

to resume his work.



Full shot: Of the outer office. The

activity of the office seems to suddenly

cease, as all eyes are centered on the

office boy.



Med. shot—panning: With the office boy—who

has a small sheet of paper in his hand.

He walks jauntily to a desk, refers

to his paper, points his finger to a

woman, emits a short whistle through

his teeth, runs a finger across his

throat and jerks his thumb toward managing

editor's office. The woman stares starkly

at him while her immediate neighbors

look on with sympathy. The office boy

now goes through the same procedure

with several other people. All watch

him, terror written in their eyes.





Med. shot: Toward CONNELL's office door

where painter works. It opens and three

people emerge. Two men and a girl. The

girl is young and pretty. All three

look dourful. The painter again has

to wait for the door to shut before

resuming his work. The two men exit.

The girl suddenly stops.



Close shot: Of the girl. Her name is

ANN MITCHELL. She stands, thinking,

and then suddenly, impulsively, wheels

around. Camera pans with her as she

returns to CONNELL's office door, flings

it open and disappears. The painter

remains poised with his brush, waiting

for the door to swing back. There is

a slight flash of resentment in his

eyes.



Int. CONNELL's office. Full shot: CONNELL

is behind his desk on which is a tray

of sandwiches and a glass of milk, half

gone. Near him sits POP DWYER, another

veteran newspaperman. ANN crosses to

CONNELL's desk.



CONNELL



(on phone)



Yeh, D. B. Oh, just cleaning out the

dead-wood. Okay.



? 580 ?



ANN



(supplicatingly)



Look, Mr. Connell . . . I just can't

afford to be without work right now,

not even for a day. I've got a mother

and two kid sisters to . . .



Secretary enters. (Her name is Mattie.)





SECRETARY



More good luck telegrams.



ANN



Well, you know how it is, I, I've just

got to keep working. See?



CONNELL



Sorry, sister. I was sent down here

to clean house. I told yuh I can't use

your column any more. It's lavender

and old lace![1]



(flicks dictograph button)



MATTIE



(over dictograph)



Yeah?



CONNELL



Send those other people in.



MATTIE



(over dictograph)



Okay.



ANN



I'll tell you what I'll do. I get thirty

dollars a week. I'll take twenty-five,

twenty if necessary. I'll do anything

you say.



CONNELL



It isn't the money. We're after circulation.

What we need is fireworks. People who

can hit with sledge hammers—start arguments.





ANN



Oh, I can do that. I know this town

inside out. Oh, give me a chance, please.





She can get no further, for several

people enter. They are cowed and frightened.

ANN hesitates a moment, then, there

being nothing for her to do, she starts

to exit. She is stopped by CONNELL's

voice.



CONNELL



All right, come in, come in! Come in!





(to Ann)



Cashier's got your check.



(back to others)



Who are these people? Gibbs, Frowley,

Cunningham, Jiles—



(to Ann at door)



Hey, you, sister!



Ann turns.



? 581 ?



CONNELL



Don't forget to get out your last column

before you pick up your check!



ANN's eyes flash angrily as she exits.





Int. Outer Office. Med. shot: ANN storms

out. The painter again has to wait for

the door to swing back to him.



Int. ANN's office. Full shot: ANN enters

her office and paces around, furious.

A man in alpaca sleeve-bands enters.

His name is JOE.



JOE



You're a couple o' sticks[2] shy in

your column, Ann.



ANN



(ignores him, muttering . . .)



A big, rich slob like D. B. Norton buys

a paper—and forty heads are chopped

off!



JOE



Did you get it, too?



ANN



Yeah. You, too? Oh, Joe . . . oh, I'm

sorry darling . . . why don't we tear

the building down!



JOE



Before you do, Ann, perhaps you'd better

finish this column.



ANN



Yeah. Lavender and old lace!



Suddenly she stops pacing. Her eyes

widen as a fiendish idea strikes her.





ANN



Wait, Joe—wait!



She flops down in front of her typewriter.





ANN



(muttering)



Wants fireworks, huh? Okay!



She begins to pound furiously, her jaw

set.



Close-up: Of ANN. Eyes flashing as she

types.



Close-up: Of JOE, watching her. The

wild look in her eye and the unnatural

speed of her typing causes him to stare

dumbly at her.



Med. shot: ANN bangs away madly. Finally

she finishes. She whips the sheet out

of the typewriter, hands it to JOE.





ANN



Here.



As JOE takes it, ANN begins to empty

the drawers of her desk.



Close-up: Of JOE reading what ANN has

written.



? 582 ?



JOE



(reading)



"Below is a letter which reached my

desk this morning. It's a commentary

on what we laughingly call the civilized

world. 'Dear Miss Mitchell: Four years

ago I was fired out of my job. Since

then I haven't been able to get another

one. At first I was sore at the state

administration because it's on account

of the slimy politics here we have all

this unemployment. But in looking around,

it seems the whole world's going to

pot, so in protest I'm going to commit

suicide by jumping off the City Hall

roof!' Signed, A disgusted American

citizen, John Doe.'"



JOE pauses to absorb this.



JOE



(continues reading)



"Editor's note . . . If you ask this

column, the wrong people are jumping

off roofs."



JOE glances up toward ANN, in mild protest.





JOE



Hey, Ann, this is the old fakeroo, isn't

it?



Full shot: ANN has just about accumulated

all her things. JOE stares at her, knowing

it's a fake.



ANN



Never mind that, Joe. Go ahead.



JOE shrugs, shakes his head, and exits.

ANN stuffs her things under her arm

and also goes.



Int. Outer office: Med. shot: Voices

ad lib—"Awfully sorry you're not going."

"Good-bye." (Laughing)



ANN comes out. Suddenly, she stops,

gets another idea, picks up a book from

a desk, and reaches back to heave it.





Med. shot: At CONNELL's office door.

The sign-painter has just finished CONNELL's

name, and as he leans back, pleased,

wiping his brushes, the book flies in.

The painter lifts his head slowly, his

wrath too great to find utterance.





Dissolve to: Int. GOVERNOR JACKSON's

office: Close-up: Of two of GOVERNOR'S

ASSOCIATES.



MAN



(reading newspaper)



" . . . and it's because of the slimy

politics that we have all this unemployment

here."



(agitated)



There it is! That's D. B. Norton's opening

attack on the Governor!



2ND MAN



Why Jim, it's just a letter sent in

to a column.



JIM



No, no. I can smell it. That's Norton!





While he speaks, the GOVERNOR has entered.





? 583 ?



GOVERNOR



Good morning, gentlemen. You're rather

early.



MEN



'Morning. 'Morning, Governor.



GOVERNOR



You're here rather early.



JIM



(pushes paper over to him)

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TAXI DRIVER



by



Paul Schrader











































PROPERTY OF:













"The whole conviction of my life now rests upon the belief

that loneliness, far from being a rare and curious

phenomenon, is the central and inevitable fact of human

existence."



--Thomas Wolfe,

"God's Lonely Man"



TRAVIS BICKLE, age 26, lean, hard, the consummate loner. On

the surface he appears good-looking, even handsome; he has a

quiet steady look and a disarming smile which flashes from

nowhere, lighting up his whole face. But behind that smile,

around his dark eyes, in his gaunt cheeks, one can see the

ominous stains caused by a life of private fear, emptiness

and loneliness. He seems to have wandered in from a land

where it is always cold, a country where the inhabitants

seldom speak. The head moves, the expression changes, but

the eyes remain ever-fixed, unblinking, piercing empty space.



Travis is now drifting in and out of the New York City night

life, a dark shadow among darker shadows. Not noticed, no

reason to be noticed, Travis is one with his surroundings.

He wears rider jeans, cowboy boots, a plaid western shirt

and a worn beige Army jacket with a patch reading, "King

Kong Company 1968-70".



He has the smell of sex about him: Sick sex, repressed sex,

lonely sex, but sex nonetheless. He is a raw male force,

driving forward; toward what, one cannot tell. Then one

looks closer and sees the evitable. The clock sprig cannot

be wound continually tighter. As the earth moves toward the

sun, Travis Bickle moves toward violence.



FILM OPENS on EXT. of MANHATTAN CAB GARAGE. Weather-beaten

sign above driveway reads, "Taxi Enter Here". Yellow cabs

scuttle in and out. It is WINTER, snow is piled on the

curbs, the wind is howling.



INSIDE GARAGE are parked row upon row of multi-colored taxis.

Echoing SOUNDS of cabs idling, cabbies talking. Steamy

breath and exhaust fill the air.



INT. CORRIDOR of cab company offices. Lettering on ajar door

reads:



PERSONAL OFFICE



Marvis Cab Company

Blue and White Cab Co.

Acme Taxi

Dependable Taxi Services

JRB Cab Company

Speedo Taxi Service



2.





SOUND of office busywork: shuffling, typing, arguing.



PERSONAL OFFICE is a cluttered disarray. Sheets with heading

"Marvis, B&W, Acme" and so forth are tacked to crumbling

plaster wall: It is March. Desk is cluttered with forms,

reports and an old upright Royal typewriter.



Dishelved middle-aged New Yorker looks up from the desk. We

CUT IN to ongoing conversation between the middle-aged

PERSONNEL OFFICER and a YOUNG MAN standing in front on his

desk.



The young man is TRAVIS BICKLE. He wears his jeans, boots

and Army jacket. He takes a drag off his unfiltered cigarette.



The PERSONNEL OFFICER is beat and exhausted: he arrives at

work exhausted. TRAVIS is something else again. His intense

steely gaze is enough to jar even the PERSONNEL OFFICER out

of his workaday boredom.



PERSONNEL OFFICER (O.S.)

No trouble with the Hack Bureau?



TRAVIS (O.S.)

No Sir.



PERSONNEL OFFICER (O.S.)

Got your license?



TRAVIS (O.S.)

Yes.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

So why do you want to be a taxi

driver?



TRAVIS

I can't sleep nights.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

There's porno theatres for that.



TRAVIS

I know. I tried that.



The PERSONNEL OFFICER, though officious, is mildly probing

and curious. TRAVIS is a cipher, cold and distant. He

speaks as if his mind doesn't know what his mouth is saying.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

So whatja do now?



3.





TRAVIS

I ride around nights mostly.

Subways, buses. See things. Figur'd

I might as well get paid for it.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

We don't need any misfits around

here, son.



A thin smile cracks almost indiscernibly across TRAVIS' lips.



TRAVIS

You kiddin? Who else would hack

through South Bronx or Harlem at

night?



PERSONNEL OFFICER

You want to work uptown nights?



TRAVIS

I'll work anywhere, anytime. I know

I can't be choosy.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

(thinks a moment)

How's your driving record?



TRAVIS

Clean. Real clean.

(pause, thin smile)

As clean as my conscience.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

Listen, son, you gonna get smart,

you can leave right now.



TRAVIS

(apologetic)

Sorry, sir. I didn't mean that.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

Physical? Criminal?



TRAVIS

Also clean.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

Age?



PERSONNEL OFFICER

Twenty-six.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

Education?



4.





TRAVIS

Some. Here and there.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

Military record?



TRAVIS

Honorable discharge. May 1971.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

You moonlightin?



TRAVIS

No, I want long shifts.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

(casually, almost to himself)

We hire a lot of moonlighters here.



TRAVIS

So I hear.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

(looks up at Travis)

Hell, we ain't that much fussy

anyway. There's always opening on

one fleet or another.

(rummages through his

drawer, collecting

various pink, yellow

and white forms)

Fill out these forms and give them

to the girl at the desk, and leave

your phone number. You gotta phone?



TRAVIS

No.



PERSONNEL OFFICER

Well then check back tomorrow.



TRAVIS

Yes, Sir.



CUT TO:



CREDITS



CREDITS appear over scenes from MANHATTAN NIGHTLIFE. The

snow has melted, it is spring.



A rainy, slick, wet miserable night in Manhattan's theatre

district.



5.





Cabs and umbrellas are congested everywhere; well-dressed

pedestrians are pushing, running, waving down taxis. The

high-class theatre patrons crowding out of the midtown shows

are shocked to find that the same rain that falls on the

poor and common is also falling on them.



The unremitting SOUNDS of HONKING and SHOUTING play against

the dull pitter-patter of rain. The glare of yellow, red and

green lights reflects off the pavements and autos.



"When it rains, the boss of the city is the taxi driver" -

so goes the cabbie's maxim, proven true by this particular

night's activity. Only the taxis seem to rise above the

situation: They glide effortlessly through the rain and

traffic, picking up whom they choose, going where they please.



Further uptown, the crowds are neither so frantic nor so

glittering. The rain also falls on the street bums and aged

poor. Junkies still stand around on rainy street corners,

hookers still prowl rainy sidewalks. And the taxis service

them too.



All through the CREDITS the exterior sounds are muted, as if

coming from a distant room or storefront around the corner.

The listener is at a safe but privileged distance.



After examining various strata of Manhattan nightlife,

CAMERA begins to CLOSE IN on one particular taxi, and it is

assumed that this taxi is being driven by TRAVIS BICKLE.



END CREDITS



CUT TO:



Travis's yellow taxi pulls in foreground. On left rear door

are lettered the words "Dependable Taxi Service".



We are somewhere on the upper fifties on Fifth Ave. The rain

has not let up.



An ELDERLY WOMAN climbs in the right rear door, crushing her

umbrella. Travis waits a moment, then pulls away from the

curb with a start.



Later, we see Travis' taxi speeding down the rain-slicked

avenue. The action is periodically accompanied by Travis'

narration. He is reading from a haphazard personal diary.



TRAVIS (V.O.)

(monotone)

April 10, 1972. Thank God for the

rain which has helped wash the

garbage and trash off the sidewalks.



6.





TRAVIS' POV of sleazy midtown side street: Bums, hookers,

junkies.



TRAVIS (V.O.)

I'm working a single now, which

means stretch-shifts, six to six,

sometimes six to eight in the a.m.,

six days a week.



A MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT hails Travis to the curb.



TRAVIS (V.O.)

It's a hustle, but it keeps me busy.

I can take in three to three-fifty

a week, more with skims.



MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT, now seated in back seat, speaks up:



MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT

(urgent)

Is Kennedy operating, cabbie? Is it

grounded?



On seat next to TRAVIS is half-eaten cheeseburger and order

of french fries. He puts his cigarette down and gulps as he

answers:



TRAVIS

Why should it be grounded?



MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT

Listen - I mean I just saw the

needle of the Empire State Building.

You can't see it for the fog!



TRAVIS

Then it's a good guess it's grounded.



MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT

The Empire State in fog means

something, don't it? Do you know,

or don't you? What is your number,

cabbie?



TRAVIS

Have you tried the telephone?



MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT

(hostile, impatient)

There isn't time for that. In other

words, you don't know.



TRAVIS

No.



7.





MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT

Well, you should know, damn it, or

who else would know? Pull over

right here.

(points out window)

Why don't you stick your goddamn

head out of the goddamn window once

in a while and find out about the

goddamn fog!



TRAVIS pulls to the curb. The BUSINESS MAN stuffs a dollar

bill into the pay drawer and jumps out of the cab. He turns

to hail another taxi.



MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT

Taxi! Taxi!



Travis writes up his trip card and drives away.



It is LATER THAT NIGHT. The rain has turned to drizzle.

Travis drives trough another section of Manhattan.



TRAVIS (V.O.)

I work the whole city, up, down,

don't make no difference to me -

does to some.



STREETSIDE: TRAVIS' P.O.V. Black PROSTITUTE wearing white

vinyl boots, leopard-skin mini-skirt and blond wig hails

taxi. On her arm hangs half-drunk seedy EXECUTIVE TYPE.



TRAVIS pulls over.



PROSTITUTE and JOHN climb into back seat. TRAVIS checks out

the action in rear view mirror.



TRAVIS (V.O.)(CONTD)

Some won't take spooks - Hell,

don't make no difference tom me.



TRAVIS' taxi drives through Central Park.



GRUNTS, GROANS coming from back seat. HOOKER and JOHN going

at it in back seat. He's having a hard time and she's

probably trying to get him to come off manually.



JOHN (O.S.)

Oh baby, baby.



PROSTITUTE (O.S.)

(forceful)

Come on.



8.





TRAVIS stares blankly ahead.



CUT TO:



TRAVIS' APARTMENT. CAMERA PANS SILENTLY across INT. room,

indicating this is not a new scene.



TRAVIS is sitting at plain table writing. He wears shirt,

jeans, boots. An unfiltered cigarette rests in a bent

coffee can ash tray.



CLOSE UP of notebook. It is a plain lined dimestore notebook

and the words TRAVIS is writing with a stubby pencil are

those he is saying. The columns are straight, disciplined.

Some of the writing is in pencil, some in ink. The

handwriting is jagged.



CAMERA continues to PAN, examining TRAVIS' apartment. It is

unusual, to say the least:



A ratty old mattress is thrown against one wall. The floor

is littered with old newspapers, worn and unfolded streets

maps and pornography. The pornography is of the sort that

looks cheap but costs $10 a threw - black and white photos

of naked women tied and gagged with black leather straps and

clothesline. There is no furniture other than the rickety

chair and table. A beat-up portable TV rests on an upright

melon crate. The red silk mass in another corner looks like

a Vietnamese flag. Indecipherable words, figures, numbers

are scribbled on the plain plaster walls. Ragged black wires

dangle from the wall where the telephone once hung.



TRAVIS (V.O.)

They're all animals anyway. All the

animals come out at night: Whores,

skunk pussies, buggers, queens,

fairies, dopers, junkies, sick,

venal.

(a beat)

Someday a real rain will come and

wash all this scum off the streets.



It's EARLY MORNING: 6 a.m. The air is clean and fresh and

the streets nearly deserted.



EXT. of TAXI GARAGE. TRAVIS' taxi pulls into the driveway.



TRAVIS (V.O.)(CONTD)

Each night when I return the cab to

the garage I have to clean the come

off the back seat. Some nights I

clean off the blood.



9.





INT. of TAXI GARAGE. TRAVIS pulls his taxi into garage

stall. TRAVIS reaches across the cab and extracts a small

vial of bennies from the glove compartment.



TRAVIS stands next to the cab, straightens his back, and

tucks the bottle of pills into his jacket pocket. He lowers

his head, looks into back seat, opens rear door and bends

inside.



He shakes a cigarette out of his pack of camels and lights it.



SLIGHT TIMECUT: TRAVIS books it at garage office. Old,

rotting slabs of wood are screwed to a grey crumbling

concrete wall. Each available space is covered with hand-

lettered signs, time schedules, check-out sheets, memos. The

signs read:



BE ALERT!!

THE SAFE DRIVER

IS ALWAYS READY

FOR THE UNEXPECTED



SLOW DOWN

AND GAUGE SPEED TO

ROAD CONDITIONS

YOU CAN'T STOP

ON A DIME!



ALL NIGHT DRIVERS

HAVING PERSONAL INJURY

ACCIDENTS

MUST PHONE IN AT ONCE TO

JUDSON 2-3410

AND MUST FILE A REPORT Promptly

AT 9 AM THE FOLLOWING MORNING AT

43 W. 61st.



A half dozen haggard cabbies hang around the office. Their

shirts are wrinkle, their heads dropping, the mouths

incessantly chattering. We pick up snatches of cabbie small

talk:



1ST CABBIE

... hadda piss like a bull steer,

so I pull over on 10th Ave, yank up

the hood and do the engine job.

(gestures as if

taking a piss into

the hood)

There I am with my dong in my hand

when a guy come up and asks if I

need any help. Just checking the

battery, I says, and, meanwhile...

(MORE)



10.





1ST CABBIE (CONT'D)

(takes imaginary piss)





2ND CABBIE

If he thinks I'm going up into The

Jungle this time of night, he can

shove it.



3RD CABBIE

(talking into pay phone)

Fuck that Violets First. Fucking

saddle horse. No, no, the OTB. Fuck

them. No, it was TKR. TCR and I'da

made seven fucking grand. Fuck them

too. Alright, what about the second

race?



4TH CABBIE

Over at Love, this hooker took on

the whole garage. Blew the whole

fucki

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"THE SEARCHERS"



Revised Final Screenplay by



Frank Nugent







FADE IN



Behind the main title and the credits:



EXT. PLAINS COUNTRY - CLOSE SHOT - MOVING JUST ABOVE GROUND

LEVEL - A STUDY OF HOOFPRINTS - LATE AFTERNOON



The hoofprints are deeply etched in the ground, picking their

way through scrubby desert growth. An occasional tumbleweed

drifts with the light breeze across the pattern of prints;

and lightly-blown soil and sand begin the work of erasing

them. The CAMERA FOLLOWING the hoofprints



RAISES SLOWLY TO:



EXT. PLAINS COUNTRY - LONG SHOT - LATE AFTERNOON



We see the rider now. BACK TO CAMERA, jogging slowly along --

heading down a long valley toward a still-distant ranch house

with its outlying barn and corrals.



EXT. PLAINS COUNTRY - MED. SHOT - MOVING - LATE AFTERNOON



The CAMERA FRAMES and MOVES with the lone horseman. He is

ETHAN EDWARDS, a man as hard as the country he is crossing.



Ethan is in his forties, with a three-day stubble of beard.



Dust is caked in the lines of his face and powders his

clothing. He wears a long Confederate overcoat, torn at one

pocket, patched and clumsily stitched at the elbows.



His trousers are a faded blue with an off-color stripe down

the legs where once there had been the yellow stripes of the

Yankee cavalry. His saddle is Mexican and across it he carries

a folded serape in place of the Texas poncho...



Rider and horse have come a long way. The CAMERA HOLDS and

PANS the rider past and we see another detail; strapped onto

his saddle roll is a sabre and scabbard with a gray silk

sash wrapped around it... Horse and rider pass, moving closer

to the ranch as a little girl and a small dog come tearing

around the corner of the house.



EXT. THE YARD OF THE EDWARDS RANCH - MED. SHOT - DEBBIE -

LATE AFTERNOON



She is staring wide-eyed at the distant horseman o.s.



Her little dog has seen him too and is barking excitedly.



DEBBIE quickly reaches to grab the dog by the scruff of the

neck, crouching over him. Debbie is 11 years old with a

piquant, memorable face.



EXT. THE YARD - CLOSE SHOT - DEBBIE



Here we must establish and dramatize what it is about her

face that is memorable, so that if we were to see her again

five or six years later, we would know it is she -- perhaps

the eye color or the slant of eyebrow, or a trick of

scratching bridge of nose with crooked forefinger.



EXT. THE EDWARDS HOUSE - MED. SHOT - AARON - LATE AFTERNOON



The ranch house is of adobe, solidly built, with a sod and

cross-timbered roof, deep windows. A small gallery or porch

extends across the front. AARON EDWARDS comes through the

door, attracted by the dog's barking -- and then he, too,

sees the approaching horseman and comes farther out -- curious

but not at all apprehensive. Aaron is a lean, weathered and

tired man, with a down-swept mustache; a gentler-looking man

than Ethan and possibly a few years older.



As he squints off, studying the rider, his older daughter,

LUCY, comes out to stand behind him. Lucy is from 16 to 18 --

a pleasant, feminine girl. She is carrying a mixing bowl

with some sort of batter in it, which she now completely

forgets to whip in her interest in the approaching stranger.



In the next instant MARTHA EDWARDS follows the daughter onto

the porch. Martha is a still-lovely woman, although the years

have etched fine wrinkles about her eyes and mouth, and work

has worn and coarsened her hands. Those hands will never be

idle when Martha is on scene... And now, while she shares

the family's interest in the approaching horseman, she

automatically notes that Lucy has forgotten her task -- and

she takes the mixing bowl from her and stirs the batter.



EXT. YARD OF THE EDWARDS HOUSE - FULL SHOT - LATE AFTERNOON



Along the side of the house comes BEN EDWARDS, 14, with a

man-sized armload of chunkwood clutched to his chest. He,

too, has spotted the stranger and is all attention. So much

so that he trips, but recovers his footing. He pauses to

dump the wood into a woodbox by the door -- his eyes always

riveted on the oncoming rider -- and then he moves toward

the others, biting a splinter out of a finger. Beyond Ben,

MARTIN PAULEY emerges from the barn and crosses the open

ground heading toward CAMERA. Martin is somewhat under 20, a

lithe, perfectly coordinated male animal, with Indian-straight

hair and a white man's eyes. He is carrying bridle or other

horse-gear. He looks to the family on the porch -- to see if

they recognize the stranger -- then out again. He continues,

followed by Ben, toward where



Debbie crouches over her dog.



EXT. PLAINS COUNTRY - LONG SHOT - ETHAN - LATE AFTERNOON



As he rides downslope toward the house.



THE CREDITS END.



EXT. THE EDWARDS RANCH - MED. CLOSE SHOT - MARTHA, LUCY, AND

AARON - LATE AFTERNOON



Suddenly, Martha's eyes widen as she -- even before Aaron --

recognizes the distant rider. Her hand goes to her mouth to

check the name that trembles on her lips... An instant later

Aaron, too, identifies the oncoming horseman.



AARON

(incredulous)

Ethan?



He looks at her, frowning, then slowly steps out onto the

hard ground. Martha hands the bowl back to Lucy and follows

Aaron.



EXT. THE YARD OF THE EDWARDS HOUSE - FULL SHOT - THE GROUP



as Ethan rides in and sits his horse, looking down at them.

There is a noticeable constraint on all of them. Finally:



ETHAN

Hello, Aaron...



His eyes shift to Martha and hold. Ethan is, and always has

been, in love with his brother's wife and she with him.



ETHAN

Martha...



MARTHA

(a bit shakily)

Hello, Ethan.



Ethan slowly, stiffly swings out of the saddle. Aaron and

Martha exchange quick glances... troubled, puzzled. Aaron

pastes on an uncertain smile as Ethan comes around his horse

toward their side.



AARON

How's California?



ETHAN

How should I know?



AARON

But Mose Harper said...



ETHAN

That old goat still creakin'

around?... Whyn't someone bury him?



He goes to his saddle pack, begins unlacing it. Ben and Debbie

have inched closer -- half-shy, half-curious.



Debbie's dog begins sniffing at his heels. Ethan looks down

at them - not unfriendly, just a man not used to children.



ETHAN

Ben, ain't you?



Ben nods.



ETHAN

(frowning at Debbie)

Lucy, you ain't much bigger than

when I saw you last.



DEBBIE

I'm Deborah!

(pointing)

She's Lucy.



Ethan looks in the direction of the pointing finger.



EXT. YARD - ANOTHER ANGLE



as Lucy steps down from the porch and approaches.



MARTHA

Lucy's going on seventeen now...



BEN

An' she's got a beau! Kisses him,

too!



MARTHA

That's enough... Go on inside and

help Lucy set the table... You, too,

Deborah!



EXT. YARD - FULL SHOT - ANOTHER ANGLE



as Martin -- with slightly averted face -- crosses to take

the bridle of Ethan's horse and lead him away.



ETHAN

(wheeling on him)

MOMENTO!



Martin checks his stride, stares in surprise.



MARTHA

(contritely)

Martin!... Here we've been standing...

Ethan, you haven't forgotten Martin?



ETHAN

Oh... Mistook you for a half-breed.



MARTIN

(levelly)

Not quite... Quarter Cherokee. The

rest is Welsh... So they tell me.



ETHAN

You've done a lot of growin'...



AARON

It was Ethan found you squallin' in

a sage clump after your folks was

massacred...



ETHAN

(bluntly)

It just happened to be me... No need

to make any more of it...



MARTIN

I'll take care of your horse for

you, Uncle Ethan.



Again, he starts to lead away.



ETHAN

Hold on!



Martin stops again.



ETHAN

I'll take this...



He completes unlacing the pack and takes it -- treating it

as though it contained something of value. Martin watches

with a touch of resentment: Ethan doesn't trust him.



Ethan turns and sees the look. He doesn't care what Martin

thinks, nor does he explain. Martin leads the horse off.



MARTHA

Supper'll be ready by the time you

wash up... Let me take your coat for

you, Ethan.



He hesitates, then grudgingly surrenders it -- conscious of

its sorry condition.



MARTHA

(smiling faintly)

And... welcome home.



He just nods, then turns to follow Aaron around the side of

the house toward the wash-up.



EXT. THE EDWARDS HOUSE - CLOSE SHOT - MARTHA



She stands alone, looking after Ethan -- his coat in her

arms. She holds it against her breast for just a moment and

her eyes are tender.



DISSOLVE TO:



INT. EDWARDS HOUSE - FULL SHOT - NIGHT



The family is finishing dinner -- and the scene is not quite,

but almost, a still-life. Loud in the room is the pendulum

tick of a Seth-Thomas clock on the mantel above the fireplace --

in which logs are burning briskly. Ben crouches near the

fireplace, fascinatedly examining the scabbard and sabre

Ethan has brought home from the wars.



He tries to ease the blade just a bit out of its scabbard.



Aaron sits at one end of the hand-hewn table, Martha at the

other. At her right is Ethan, his fork scraping the last

crumb off his plate. Lucy sits at her father's right and

Martin at his left. Next to Martin is Debbie. In the center

of the table is the sorry remnant of what was once a meal.

Lucy and Martin have finished eating. Aaron is sipping his

coffee, and Martha -- her own plate largely untasted -- is

watching Ethan.



Ethan has shaved, changed his shirt. He straightens

contentedly and every eye is on him, expectantly.



ETHAN

Good.



The clock rattles alarmingly -- the usual preliminary to its

striking; and then it bangs out the strokes like a fire-alarm

gong. Eight fast clangs.



AARON

Ben! Deborah! Bed!



DEBBIE

But I've got to help with the dishes.



MARTHA

Not tonight... Ben, put that sword

back.



BEN

It's not a sword, ma... it's a saber!

(moving to Ethan)

Did you kill many damYankees with

this sabre, Uncle Ethan?



ETHAN

(matter-of-factly)

Some...



BEN

How many damYankees, Uncle Ethan?



MARTHA

Ben!... Martin, he'll sleep in the

bunkhouse with you tonight.



Martin nods and crosses to kiss Martha good night.



MARTIN

Good night, Aunt Martha... Uncle

Aaron...

(he hesitates)

Good night, Uncle Ethan.



Ethan doesn't like being called Uncle -- as we must know

from the quick look he shoots at Martin. But he acknowledges

it.



ETHAN

Night.



Ben reluctantly puts the scabbard away, turns to Ethan.



BEN

Will you tell me tomorrow about the

war?



AARON

The war ended three years ago, boy!



BEN

It did?... Then whyn't you come home

before now?



MARTHA

BEN!... Go 'long with Martin. MARCH!



As Ben reluctantly heads out with Martin, Deborah crosses to

Ethan's side and studies him gravely.



DEBBIE

Lucy's wearing the gold locket you

gave her when she was a little girl...



ETHAN

Oh?



DEBBIE

She don't wear it much account of it

makes her neck green.



LUCY

(aghast)

Deborah!



DEBBIE

(defensively)

Well, it does... But I wouldn't care

if you gave me a gold locket if it

made my neck green or not.



Ethan looks at her gravely.



ETHAN

'Fraid I...

(then he remembers

something, rises)

Wait.



He crosses to where his pack is -- a side table or something --

and burrows into it. Debbie is at his side.



ETHAN

How about this?



It is a gold medal or medallion -- something appropriate to

Maximilian of Mexico -- suspended by a long multi-colored

satin ribbon.



DEBBIE

Oh! LOOK! My gold locket!



She holds it high for mother -- and all -- to see. Martha

takes it and reacts at its weight.



MARTHA

It's solid gold... Ethan, I don't

think she's old enough...



ETHAN

Let her keep it... Just something I

picked up in Mexico.



Martha reluctantly surrenders it to Debbie's eager hand.



Aaron hasn't missed the word "Mexico" and looks sharply at

Ethan.



DEBBIE

Oh, thank you, Uncle Ethan...



LUCY

(to Debbie)

Come along...



The two girls leave the main room. Martha a

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M U L H O L L A N D



D R I V E

























1/5/1999











M U L H 0 L L A N D D R I V E





EXT. NIGHT - HOLLYWOOD HILLS, LOS ANGELES



Darkness. Distant sounds of freeway traffic. Then the closer

sound of a car - its headlights illumine an oleander bush and

the limbs of an Eucalyptus tree. Then the headlights turn - a

street sign is suddenly brightly lit. The words on the sign

read... "Mulholland Drive." The car moves under the sign as

it turns and the words fall once again into darkness.



CUT TO:



EXT. NIGHT - MULHOLLAND DRIVE



Gliding we follow the car - an older black Cadillac limousine

- as it winds its way up Mulholland Drive through the

darkness of the Hollywood Hills. There is no one else on the

road. As we drift closer to the car...



CUT TO:



INT. BLACK CADILLAC LIMOUSINE - NIGHT



Two men in dark suits are sitting in the front seat. A

beautiful, younger, dark-haired woman sits in back. She sits

close up against the door and stares out into the darkness.

She seems to be thinking about something. Suddenly she turns

and looks ahead. The car is slowing and moving off to the

side of the road.



DARK-HAIRED WOMAN

What are you doing? You don't stop

here ...



The car stops - half on, half off the road at a dark, blind

curve. Both men turn to the woman.



DRIVER

Get out of the car.



CUT TO:



EXT. FURTHER UP MULHOLLAND DRIVE - NIGHT



Two cars - a convertible and a late model sedan are drag

racing toward the blind curve blocking the view of the

Cadillac limousine. The cars are filled with crazed

teenagers. Two girls are standing up through the sunroof of

the sedan screaming as their hair is whipped straight back.







The cars are travelling so fast that they seem to almost

float as they fly with psychotic speed down both lanes of

Mulholland Drive.



CUT TO:



INT. EXT. - CADILLAC LIMOUSINE



The driver, still in his seat, has a pistol with a silencer

attached pointing at the woman. The other man is getting out

of the car. The woman is clutching the seat and the door

handle as if trying to anchor herself. She is visibly afraid.

The man who got out of the car tries the woman's door, but it

is locked. He smiles as he reaches in through the front door

and unlocks her door. He opens her door. As he reaches for

her, the woman's face becomes flooded with light. Her eyes

dart to the front windshield. The driver, flooded with light,

turns just as the late model sedan slams into the Cadillac

limousine. There is an explosion of metal and glass amidst

thunderous tearing sounds as the two cars become one in

death. The convertible screams past with hardly a notice.

The driver of the limousine dies instantly as his body is

jettisoned through the windshield. The other man is torn as

the cars screech over him. The woman is brutally thrown into

the back of the front seats as a cloud of dust and flying

rocks engulfs her. The disastrous moving sculpture of the two

cars wants to climb up the hill, then stops and slides back

toward the road The Cadillac tips onto its side. Then all is

silent. A fire erupts in the sedan and as the dust clears we

see the woman appear, then crawl out of the Cadillac to the

road. Her face is vacant. There is a bleeding cut just above

her forehead. She stands for a moment clutching her purse -

lost , then begins to walk as if in a trance across

Mulholland down through the bushes and into darkness.



DISSOLVE TO:



EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS - LATER - NIGHT



The woman slides down a hill through tangles of hostile

desert plants. Sirens can be heard in the distance. She

crosses through some trees and is suddenly confronted by a

coyote which snarls and leaps at her. She screams and strikes

out with her purse in self defense. The coyote backs away -

snarling. The woman then loses control and runs at the coyote

and it races off. She falls to the ground. We can hear the

thunder of her heartbeat as the sirens grow louder. She gets

up and stumbles through the trees. When she clears them she

is standing overlooking all of Los Angeles glowing down

below. She clumsily starts down toward it.



DISSOLVE TO:



HOLLYWOOD STREETS - LATER - NIGHT



The woman slides down a dusty hill and finds herself at

Franklin Avenue. A car races by and its headlights flare on

her face. Her expression shows fear and panic. She doesn't

know where she is or where to go. She runs frantically across

the street. She moves quickly to a sidewalk which takes her

into a residential area.



DISSOLVE TO:



EXT. HOLLYWOOD STREETS - LATER - NIGHT



The woman crosses Sunset Boulevard. Coming up Sunset in the

distance is a police car with its sirens and lights going.

She hurries into the darkness of another residential area. A

car turns onto the street and comes toward her. She

instinctively moves behind a tree until it passes.



DISSOLVE TO:



EXT. HOLLYWOOD STREETS - LATER - NIGHT



As if being hunted in a foreign land the woman moves

desperately down another residential street. A drunken couple

round the corner up ahead and start up the sidewalk toward

her. She runs off the sidewalk and into the bushes in front

of an apartment building. The couple passes by without

noticing her. Feeling safe in these bushes her exhaustion

overtakes her and she lays her head down to sleep.



DISSOLVE TO:



EXT. MULHOLLAND DRIVE - NIGHT



Police, paramedics surround the wreckage. Two detectives,

HARRY MCKNIGHT and NEAL DOMGAARD (both mid 40's to 50), stare

at the remains of the two cars glowing white hot under the

crime scene lights. A coroner's van pulls out just after an

ambulance. The ambulance's siren begins to wail as it speeds

off. The coroner's van cruises slowly. Detective Harry

McKnight and Detective Neal Domgaard continue staring. They

do not look at each other. They are each motionless for a

long moment.



DETECTIVE HARRY MCKNIGHT

You feel it?



DETECTIVE NEAL DOMGAARD

Yeah.



They continue to stare.





DETECTIVE NEAL DOMGAARD

Sammy thinks the Caddy had stopped along

the shoulder ... man up the road said he

saw two cars drag racin'...then you got

that blind corner.



DETECTIVE HARRY MCKNIGHT

Two men... two guns in the Caddy.



DETECTIVE NEAL DOMGAARD

The boys found this on the floor in back

of the Caddy.



Neal holds up a plastic bag holding a pearl earring.



DETECTIVE HARRY MCKNIGHT

Yeah, they showed me



DETECTIVE NEAL DOMGAARD

Could be unrelated.



DETECTIVE HARRY MCKNIGHT

Could be...any of those dead kids wearin'

pearl earrings?



DETECTIVE NEAL DOMGAARD

No. Could be someone's missin' maybe.



DETECTIVE HARRY MCKNIGHT

That's what I'm thinkin'.



Detective Harry McKnight turns and crosses Mulholland. His

eyes move over each blade of grass at the shoulder - each

desert bush just beyond. He slowly raises his gaze to the

shining lights of Hollywood laying far below like a galaxy.

He looks out and wonders.



CUT TO:



EXT. HOLLYWOOD STREETS - EARLY DAWN



The clang of a metal gate wakes the woman. It is just getting

light and she sees an older red-headed woman carrying a

suitcase to the curb where a cab stands waiting with its

trunk open. The cab driver appears with two suitcases which

he sets down next to the car. The red-headed woman and the

cab driver both go back through the iron gate. The woman in

the bushes pulls herself to the gate where she can peer into

the courtyard of this apartment building. She sees the red-

headed woman and the cab driver go into an apartment and come

back out with more luggage.





They leave the apartment door open. When the red-headed woman

and the cab driver reach the cab they both begin loading the

bags into the trunk and backseat. Their backs are to the

woman in the bushes who takes this opportunity to go quickly

into the courtyard and through the open apartment door.



CUT TO:



INT. APARTMENT - EARLY DAWN



The woman comes into a living room where a single trunk

remains. She goes further into the apartment and crouches

down in a back corner of the kitchen. She listens as

footsteps come across the courtyard. She hears the red-headed

woman and the cab driver get the trunk. She hears them set it

down once they have it in the courtyard. She hears the steps

of the red-headed woman come back inside the apartment. She

hears the footsteps go all around the apartment and then she

hears the footsteps come toward the kitchen. Remaining

frozen, the dark-haired woman's eyes look up as the red-

headed woman walks right past her, grabs a set of keys off

the kitchen counter, then leaves the apartment. The woman can

hear the door being locked. She lets go, slides to the

kitchen floor, and passes out.



CUT TO:



INT. DENNY'S RESTAURANT , HOLLYWOOD - MORNING



Two well-dressed men HERB and DAN (mid 30's) are sitting at a

table drinking coffee. Herb has finished eating his

breakfast, but Dan hasn't touched his bacon and eggs - he

appears too nervous to eat. A blonde waitress with a

nameplate saying "DIANE" lays the check on their table

smiles, then walks off.



HERB

Why did you want to go to breakfast if

you're not hungry?



DAN

I just wanted to come here.



HERB

To Denny's? I wasn't going to say

anything, but why Denny's?



DAN

This Denny's.



HERB

Okay. Why this Denny's?





DAN

It's kind of embarrassing but,



HERB

Go ahead.



DAN

I had a dream about this place.



HERB

Oh boy.



DAN

You see what I mean...



HERB

Okay, so you had a dream about this

place. Tell me.



DAN

Well ... it's the second one I've had, but

they were both the same......they start

out that I'm in here but it's not day or

night. It's kinda half night, but it

looks just like this except for the

light, but I'm scared like I can't tell

ya. Of all people you're standing right

over there by that counter. You're in

both dreams and you're scared. I get

even more frightened when I see how

afraid you are and then I realize what it

is - there's a man...in back of this

place. He's the one ... he's the one

that's doing it. I can see him through

the wall. I can see his face and I hope

I never see that face ever outside a

dream.



Herb stares at Dan to see if he will continue. Dan looks

around nervously, then stares at his uneaten food.



DAN (cont'd)

That's it.



HERB

So, you came to see if he's out there?



DAN

To get rid of this god-awful feeling.



HERB

Right then.





Herb gets up, picks up the bill and goes to the cashier to

pay. Dan just sits.



As Herb is paying the bill he looks over at Dan just as Dan

is turning to look at him. From Dan's point of view Herb is

standing in exactly the same spot as he stood in the dream.

Herb gets a strange feeling, turns back and finishes up with

the cashier. He motions for Dan to follow him. Dan rises

reluctantly and he and Herb make their way outside.



CUT TO:



EXT. DENNY'S



Now Herb waits for Dan to lead the way.



DAN

Around here.



Dan takes Herb across the front of Denny's to a narrow

sidewalk that leads down the side toward the back.



They begin walking down the narrow sidewalk - past a

payphone. Dan begins to sweat the nearer he gets to the rear

corner of the building. Red bricks glide by slowly.



CLOSER ON DAN



Beads of sweat cover his face. He finds it difficult to

breathe. Herb is just behind him unable to see the fear

overtaking his friend, but Herb can feel something himself.



The red bricks moving by now are coming to an end - the

corner is coming closer - the corner is now very close.



Suddenly a man - a face ... a face dark and bum-like- moves

quickly out from behind the corner and stops - freezes -

staring into Dan's eyes.



Dan lurches back. All his breath is suddenly gone. He falls

back into Herb who tries to catch him as he's falling. Dan

hits the ground unable to breathe - his eyes wide with

horror.



Herb looks up - the man is gone. He looks down to Dan.



HERB

Dan! ... Dan! You all right? ... Dan!



He kneels down and studies his friend. He feels for a pulse

in the neck. He listens for breathing. His friend is dead.







HERB (cont'd)

My God!



DISSOLVE TO:



EXT. LAX AIRPORT - DAY



The airport sits in blinding sunlight and veiled with smog.

A big jet lands.



CUT TO:



INT. LAX AIRPORT



A blonde girl walking with an old woman approaches us. As the

blonde's face fills the screen we move with her and stay with

her as she goes. Her face is bright and her eyes move here

and there taking in everything. She can hardly believe she's

in Los Angeles - the City of Dreams. She and the old woman

pass under a sign which reads "WELCOME TO LOS ANGELES."

The girl smiles and looks around excited by every detail.



CUT TO:



EXT. LAX AIRPORT



The girl and the old lady exit the terminal with their bags.

An older gentleman has joined the old lady. They stop at the

taxicab stand. The old lady takes the blonde girl's hand.



OLD LADY

It's time to say goodbye, Betty. It's

been so nice travelling with you.



BETTY

Thank you, Irene. I was so excited and

nervous. It was sure great to have you

to talk to.



IRENE

Now, remember I'll be watching for you on

the big screen.



BETTY

(smiling)

Okay Irene. Won't that be the day.



IRENE

The best of luck to you, Betty. Take

care of yourself and be careful.





BETTY

Okay I will. Thanks again.



Betty and Irene give each other a hug. The old gentleman nods

to Betty and takes Irene off. Betty smiles after them.

Suddenly someone is grabbing her bags. She turns abruptly to

find she is next in line and her cab is waiting. She turns

once more and waves at Irene as her bags are loaded into the

trunk of the cab.



CAB DRIVER

Where to?



BETTY

(smiling excitedly)

1612 Havenhurst.



CAB DRIVER

Got it!



They get into the cab and close their doors. The cab pulls

away.



CUT TO:



EXT. STREETS - LOS ANGELES - DAY



Betty goes from the right side of the cab to the left side of

the cab looking at every building, tree and sign. Each street

sign seems to be magical to her and she says the names to

herself as they pass by. She sees La Tijera, La Cienega,

Venice Boulevard, Pico Boulevard, Olympic Boulevard, Wilshire

Boulevard, etc., etc. until they reach Fountain and turn

right. Betty's heart is pounding when she sees Havenhurst

and the cab turns left. In the middle of the block on the

right the cab pulls over and stops. Betty sees her new

home ... an ancient, gorgeous courtyard apartment building,

built during the golden age of cinema.



CUT TO:



EXT. 1612 HAVENHURST



The cab driver puts Betty's bags down on the sidewalk next to

her. She can barely stop looking at the building long enough

to pay the cab driver who then goes off and drives away.

Betty picks up her bags and enters, as if in a dream, through

an ornate iron gate to a courtyard with a beautiful working

fountain at its center. A sign on a door to her right reads

Manager and she rings the bell.





An older, once very beautiful, woman wearing heavy make-up

and smoking a cigarette in a silver holder opens the door.

An unbelievable raspy voice comes out through the dark screen

of the still closed screen door.



MANAGER

Hi there...ten bucks says you're Betty.



BETTY

I am, Mrs. Lanois. It is Mrs. Lanois

isn't it?



MRS. LANOIS

In all my living glory, baby.



BETTY

Pleased to meet you.



MRS. LANOIS

You can call me Coco ... everybody does.

Stay there, I'll get the key.



BETTY

Okay, Coco.



Coco returns with the key and opens the screen door inhaling

a huge drag off her cigarette. She starts off into the

courtyard and Betty picks up her bags and follows. As Coco

speaks smoke comes out of her with every word.



COCO

I guess it was your grandfather, was

it ... he called me to check in, said you

were on your way and for you to call when

you get in. Nice man... farmer I hear.



BETTY

Yes, he is. He raises corn.



COCO

Damn lot of corn raised in Hollywood

these days too.



BETTY

Well, I ...



COCO

You don't have to tell me. It's written

all over that pretty face of yours.. You

came here to be an actress. I just hope

you'll remember there's never been a

great poem called "tits and ass."





BETTY

I...



COCO

You probably don't remember her, but

Louise Bonner lives right over there in

number 29. When she isn't drunk she runs

a damn good acting class.



BETTY

Have many famous actors and actresses

lived here? I was meaning to ask you

that.



COCO

Honey, all the great ones came through

here at one time or another.



A haunting music begins to swell.



COCO (cont'd)



People say in the springtime when the

wind blows the smell of the jasmine you

can still feel the presence of everyone

of them.



BETTY

I guess I've come to quite a place.



COCO

Sweetheart, you don't know the half of

it.



The music fades.



Coco looks down suddenly. On the cobblestone courtyard in

front of her she sees a fresh product of waste from a dog.

She angrily turns up to an apartment on the second level.



COCO (cont'd)

(yelling up)

WILKINS! ... (no answer) ... THAT DOG CRAPS

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A P O C A L Y P S E N O W







Original screenplay by John Milius.



Inspired by Joseph Conrad's "HEART OF DARKNESS".



This draft by Francis Ford Coppola.



December 3, 1975.







1 PRIMEVAL SWAMP - EARLY DAWN



It is very early in the dawn - blue light filters through

the jungle and across a foul swamp. A mist clings to the

trees. This could be the jungle of a million years ago.



Our VIEW MOVES CLOSER, through the mist, TILTING DOWN to

the tepid water. A small bubble rises to the surface;

then another. Suddenly, but quietly, a form begins to

emerge; a helmet. Water and mud pour off revealing a set

of beady eyes just above the mud. Printed on a helmet,

in a psychedelic hand, are the words: "Gook Killer."

The head emerges revealing that the tough-looking soldier

beneath has exceptionally long hair and beard; he has no

shirt on, only bandoliers of ammunition - his body is

painted in an odd camouflage pattern. He looks to the

right; he looks to the left; he looks INTO CAMERA, and

slowly sinks back into the swamp, disapperaring completely.



Our VIEW HOLDS, We begin to HEAR natural, though

unrecognizable JUNGLE SOUNDS, far off in the distance.

We PAN TO REVEAL a clump of logs half submerged in the

swamp; and part of what seems to be a Falstaff beer can

in the mud. A hand reaches out, and the beer can disappears.

As we TILT UP, we NOTICE that the log is hollow

and houses the rear of a M-60 machine gun, hand painted

in a paisley design.



Now the VIEW MOVES AWAY, ACROSS the ancient growth, PAST

the glimmer of what seems to be another soldier hiding in

ambush, wearing an exotic hat made from birds and bushes.

ACROSS to a dark trail where the legs of those in black

pajamas move silently across our ever TIGHTENING VIEW.

Their feet, boots and sandals leave no impression; make

no sound. A slight flicker of light reveals a pair of

eyes in the foliage across the path, waiting and watching.



The VIEW PUSHES ALONG WITH the Vietnamese, MOVING FASTER

AND FASTER WITH them, until suddenly, directly in front

about ten feet away, an enormous AMERICAN clad in rags

and bushes and holding a 12 gauge automatic shotgun

casually at his side, steps in front of them. He smiles

laconically, and BLASTS OUT FIVE SHOTS that rip THROUGH

US. By the second shot, the whole jungle blazes out

with AUTOMATIC FIRE.



Out VIEW TURNS as the men around us are thrown and torn,

screaming and scattering into the jungle. More AMERICANS

appear; unexplainably, out of the growth. It is now that

we fully SEE the bizarre manner in which they are dressed.

Some wear helmets, others wear strange hats made from

feathers and parts of animals. Some of them have long

savage-looking hair; other crew-cut or completely shaved;

they wear bandoliers, flak jackets, shorts and little else.

They wear Montagnard sandals or no shoes at all, and their

bodies and faces are painted in bizarre camouflage patterns.

They appear one with the jungle and mist, FIRING INTO US

as they move.



The soldier we saw earlier emerges from the swamp, dripping

mud, his MACHINE GUN BLASTING FIRE.



We begin to move quickly with one Vietnamese, breathlessly

running for his life; we MOVE INTO the jungle with him,

only to be impaled on a large spear of a smiling AMERICAN

painted and wearing feathers like an Indian. OUR VIEW

FALLS WITH him to the ground, STARING UPWARDS, as FLAME

and EXPLODING MUD scatter above us. Men scream and die

around us. The screams amid the GUNFIRE and EXPLOSIONS

are piercing and terrible, as though the jungle itself is

frightened.



An AMERICAN wearing a jungle hat with a large Peace Sign

on it, wearing war paint, bends TOWARD US, reaching down

TOWARD US with a large knife, preparing to scalp the

dead.



OUR VIEW MOVES AWAY, along with the running sandals of a

Vietnamese soldier, MOVING FASTER AND FASTER, only to be

stopped by still another of the savage-looking AMERICANS

with primitive ornamentation, wearing only a loin-cloth

and green beret. He opens his flame-thrower directly ON US

and the NVA soldier and we are incinerated in flame,

bright psychedelic orange-red flame. Outrageous, loud,

electric ROCK MUSIC OVERWHELMS the SOUNDTRACK :





MAIN TITLE : APOCALYPSE NOW





2 TITLE SEQUENCE



The CREDIT TITLES proceed as the FLANE CONSUME US,

growing more intense, brighter, more vivid, purifying;

transforming into an intense white heat that we can barely

look at, like the sun itself.



Then it EXPLODES, breking apart, and shattering once

again. It begins to cool, as the TITLES CONTINUE. It

is as though WE ARE MOVING through the white center of

cooling flame, forming a spinning web, and becoming more

distant. The TITLES CONTINUE.



We are MOVING TOWARD planetary nebulae; MOVING through the

stars; MOVING closer to the Earth. We can BARELY HEAR the

MUSIC now.



We MOVE CLOSER to the earth; beautiful, covered in clouds,

as though SEEN from a satellite. The TITLES CONTINUE.



We are MOVING CLOSER to the earth; through the soft clouds,

close enough that we can MAKE OUT the Western Hemisphere;

CLOSER to North America; CLOSER, to America, then California;

Los Angeles, STILL CLOSER to the odd, finger-like

shapes of :





3 EXT. MARINA DEL REY



The VIEW finally SETTLES ON a partically luxury cabin

cruiser harbored at a particular dock late in the day.



It is large, pleasure boat: The people are relaxing in

bathing suits and towels and robes. They are drinking

cocktails, and snapping pictures. The boat belongs to the

head of a large American Corporation, and this is his

party. This man, CHARLIE, is sitting, his shirt off to

catch some of the late sun. Others have their faces

smeared with white suntan oil that reminds us of war

paint. Charlie is going on and on :



CHARLIE

... It's crazy -- sugar is up to

200 dollars a ton -- sugar !



LAWYER

What about oil ?



CHARLIE

Food, oil --look, let me show you

something. This is the economy of

the United States in two years --



He takes a newspaper, draws a circle.



CHARLIE

(continuing)

This is West Germany.

(he draws another,

bigger circle)

This is Japan.

(another , bigger)

This is Italy.

(a dot)

This is Iran.

(a very big circle)

And this is Saudi Arabia... In

two years ?

(a gigantic circle)

Do you understand ?



ACCOUNTANT

What's to prevent it ?



CHARLIE

Maybe nothing. But I'll tell you,

I didn't build a two-billion-dollar

company in the last twenty years

by doing nothing. We can protect

our interests.

(pause, for a drink)

We are still the most powerful

nation in the world. Militarily.



He leans to his associates, in a half-whisper.



CHARLIE

(continuing)

You know bodyguard; he was a

captain in Viet Nam. You talk to

him, except he won't talk. This

kind of man can kill you with his

pinky. A nice quiet fella, though.



The VIEW BEGINS TO PULL AWAY from this group.



CHARLIE

(continuing)

Carries a attache case at all

times. You know what's in it ?

(another sip)

An Ingram Machine pistol.



Gradually, Charlie's voice softens as we MOVE AWAY, and a

NEW VOICE, the voice of someone thinking, COMES IN OVER it :



CHARLIE WILLARD (V.O.)

I don't tahe chances, and Bullshit. You can kill

neither should this country. with the ridge of your

If we're strong, we should hand to the throat; you

protect our interests, and can crush a skull with

we should have the respect your knee... but you

of the world, even if it can't kill anybody with

takes another war. your pinky.



The VIEW MOVE ALONG the guests of this small party :

Pictures being taken, some people are swimming. It is the

good life. Now WILLARD'S VOICE TRACK DOMINATES.



WILLARD (V.O.)

The attache case has been empty

for three years, but it makes him

safe to think there's a machine

pistol in it.



I don't like automatic weapons.

They jam.



I saw a friend of mine get

ripped open because he flicked his

M-16 to automatic, and it jammed.

How much money did the contractors

make on the M-16 ?



Our VIEW IS MOVING through the people on the boat; some

reading, flirting, drinking.



WILLARD (V.O.)

(continuing)

He likes to hear stories about Nam.

I tell him I can't; they're not

cleared. The truth is he wouldn't

understand.



We can now SEE A MAN with his BACK TO US, looking the

opposite way. An attache case resting near to him. We

MOVE CLOSER.



WILLARD (V.O.)

(continuing)

There's no way I can tell them...

what really happened over there.



I wouldn't've believed it if

someone'd told me.



We are now RESTING on his back. Occasionally, he sips

from a beer, but we cannot see his face.



WILLARD (V.O.)

(continuing)

There was only one part that

mattered -- for me, anyway. I

don't even know if I remember

all of it. I can't remember

how it ended, exactly -- because

when it ended I was insane.



DISSOLVE TO :



4 EXT. A STREET IN SAIGON - DAY



A Saigon boom street in late 1968. There are bars and

shops for servicemen; the rickshaws, the motorbikes.

Our VIEW MOVES TOWARD one particular officer; B.L.

WILLARD , in uniform, a Captain of the Airborne, followed

by four or five Vietnamese kids trying to shine his

shoes and sell him things.



WILLARD (V.O.)

But I know how it started

for me -- I was on R. and R.

in Saigon; my first time south

of the DMZ in three months. I

wasn't sure, but I thought this

guy was following me.



Willard looks back.





5 HIS VIEW



an American CIVILIAN.





6 MED. VIEW



Willard ducks into a bar.





7 INT. THE SAIGON BAR - DAY



Not much in this place -- a bar, linoleum flooring, a few

tables and chairs, and a juke box. The lounge is fairly

crowded. Willard takes off his cap and walks quietly

past the soldiers at the bar. Some of them, catching

sight of his ribbons, stop talking as he moves by.



An INFANTRY CAPTAIN enters the bar, buys a couple of

drinks and approaches Willard's table.



CAPTAIN

How about a drink ?



WILLARD

Sure, thanks.



He sits down at the table with the drinks.



CAPTAIN

Winning the war by yourself.



WILLARD

(he calls for the waiter)

Part.



CAPTAIN

Which part is that ?



WILLARD

My part.

(TO THE WAITER)

Beer, with ice and water.





CAPTAIN

That's good gin.



WILLARD

I'm sure it is, but I had hepatitis.



CAPTAIN

Delta ?



WILLARD

No.



CAPTAIN

North ?



WILLARD

Yeah. Way north.



CAPTAIN

What unit were you with ?



WILLARD

None.



CAPTAIN

Rangers, eh?



WILLARD

Sort of.



The JUKE BOX starts BLARING. Annoyed , Willard looks over

his shoulder.



CAPTAIN

Were you Longe Range Recon --



WILLARD

No -- I worked too far north for

LRRP.



He reaches into his shirt pocket for a cigarette, and the

Captain leans over the table to light it for him. Willard

notices the CIVILIAN on the street has glanced in the bar,

then enters and sits down at a table by the doorway.



CAPTAIN

That's quite an array of ribbons...



WILLARD

Let's talk about you.



CAPTAIN

I was an FO for the 25th.



WILLARD

Tracks ?



CAPTAIN

Yeah.



WILLARD

Fat. That's real fat.



CAPTAIN

Sometimes.



WILLARD

At least you always have enough

water. How many gallons does

each one of those damn things

carry ?



CAPTAIN

Thirty -- sometimes fifty.



WILLARD

You know, I can remember once,

getting back below the DMZ -- and

the first Americans we ran into

were a track squadron. I just

couldn't believe how much water

they had. We'd been chewing

bamboo shoots for almost a week,

and before that, for two weeks,

we'd been drinking anything --

rain water, river shit, stuff

right out of the paddies. And

there were these guys standing

by their trucks spilling water

all over. I could've killed them.

(solemnly)

I swear to God I would have, too,

if ...



CAPTAIN

I didn't know we had units up

there in North Vietnam.



WILLARD

We do.



CAPTAIN

How long were you up there ?



WILLARD

A long time.



CAPTAIN

A year ? Waiter another beer.



WILLARD

I go up on missions. Listen

Captain, buy me all the beer

you want, but you better tell

that asshole over there you're

not going to find out anymore

about me.



Willard glances over his shoulder and indicates the

Civilian. The Civilian is given a sign by the Captain.

He rises and comes over to the bar.



WILLARD

(continuing)

What do you want ?



CIVILIAN

(indicating the Army jeep)

If you're B.L. Willard, 4th Recon

Group, we'd like you to come with

us.



WILLARD

Whose orders ?



CAPTAIN

Headquarters 11 Corps -- 405th

A.S.A Battalion -- S-2 --

Com-Sec -- Intelligence --

Nha Trang.



WILLARD

Who are you ?



CIVILIAN

The agency.



Willard looks at the Civilian a moment, and then walks

roght out toward the jeep without saying another word.

The Civilian follows.





8 EXT. HELICOPTER - DUSK



A darkly painted "HUEY" ROARS over low paddies and jungle

before emerging onto an open plain. It crosses a barbed

wire and sand-bagged perimeter and lands in a heavily

fortified, concealed compound.



WILLARD (V.O.)

They took me to some place outside

Nha Trang... Intelligence Headquarters

for all operations in South East Asia.

I'd worked for Intelligence before --



Armed men jump from the Huey -- among them Willard. A

large camouflaged cover is moved, revealing an underground

corridor -- they enter.





9 FULL SHOT - UNDERGROUND PLOTTING ROOM



A door swings wide -- Willard steps through and comes to

attention, blocking the view of the room. A strange

reddish light pervades. The room is covered with plastic

maps and filled with smoke.



The whole place has been hewn out of the ground itself

and there is a sense of the cut-back jungle growth slowly

reclaiming it.



WILLARD

Captain B.L. Willard, G-4 Headquarters,

reporting as ordered, sir.



COLONEL (O.S.)

Okay, Willard, sit down.



Willard sits in a chair that is set in a center of a

bare concrete floor. Across from him, around steel desks

and tables sit several men. The nearest one, a COLONEL

puts his cigar out on the bottom of his shoe -- behind

him sits a MAJOR and a seedy-looking CIVILIAN.



COLONEL

Have you ever seen this officer

before, Captain Willard ?



He points to the Major.



WILLARD

No, sir.



COLONEL

This gentleman or myself ?



WILLARD

No, sir.



COLONEL

I believe on your last job you

executed a tax collector in Kontum,

is that right ?



WILLARD

I am not presently disposed to

discuss that, sir.



MAJOR

Very good.



He turns to the Colonel and nods his approval. The

Colonel gets up and goes to a large plastic map.



COLONEL

You know much about about Special Forces;

Green Berets, Captain ?



WILLARD

I've worked with them on occasions

and I saw the movie , sir.



The officer smiles at this.



COLONEL

Then you can appreciate Command's

concern over their -- shall we say

'erratic' methods of operation.

(pause)

I have never favored elite units,

Captain, including your paratroopers

or whatever. Just because a man

jumps out of an airplane or wears

a silly hat doesn't give him any

priviliges in my book -- not in

this man's army.



MAJOR

We didn't need 'em in Korea --

no sir, give me an Ohio farm boy

and an M-1 Garand, none of this

fancy crap -- no sir.



CIVILIAN

(stopping him)

Major.



COLONEL

We have Special Forces A

detachments all along the

Cambodian border. Two here and

another one here -- twelve or

fourteen Americans -- pretty

much on their own; they train

and motivate Montagnard natives;

pick their own operations. If

they need something, they call

for it, and get it within

reason. What we're concerned

with is here.





10 CLOSE VIEW - ON THE MAP



COLONEL

The A detachment at Nu Mung Ba.

It was originally a larger base,

built up along the river in an

old Cambodian fortress.



The area has been relatively

quiet for the past two years --

but --





11 MED VIEW



COLONEL

... Captain, we know something's

going on up there -- Major --



The Major looks at some papers in front of him.



MAJOR

Communications naturally dwindled

with the lack of V.C. activity,

this is routine, expected ... but

six months ago communication

virtually stopped.



COLONEL

About the same time -- large numbers

of Montagnards of the M'Nong descent

began leaving the area -- this in

itself is not unusual since these

people have fought with the Rhade

Tribe that lived in the area for

centuries. But what is unusual is

that we began to find Rhade refugees

too -- in the same sampans as the

M'Nongs. These people aren't afraid

of V.C. They've put up with war

for twenty years -- but something

is driving them out.



MAJOR

We communicate with the base

infrequently. What they call for

are air strikes, immediate --

always at night. And we don't

know what or who the air strikes

are called on.



WILLARD

Who ?



MAJOR

You see,

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